#because A) it's not clear to me and B) Carter never gives a fuck so why should i

[edierone]

Antes de la Guerra

From a fic request by @emceecapitalc, who wondered - based on this piece of the trailer, made giffy by @tatianagmaslany- how the hell a couple of 50-somethings could fight assassins on no notice after years out of the game ...

It started out as just exercise — a joyless 30-minute pre-dawn burst of cardio at the zero-frills gym one sketchy block from the hospital, three days a week. Kept her weight down and her heart healthy, even if it was broken.  

But later, when she and Mulder fell into spending weekdays at the place she kept in town, he started accompanying her there, and as they regained fitness, the old competitiveness kicked in — they gradually got up a little earlier, stayed a little longer, started adding some weights to the routine.

They never spoke to anyone else there, never looked into any of the gym’s other offerings, just pushed themselves, a team of two again.

Then one frigid spring evening, she has to help subdue a psychotic patient and despite her old skills kicking in, he almost gets the better of her. That’s when she starts asking around (among certain women) for a trainer — who materializes one morning at the gym, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Eduardo doesn’t offer any personal details, not even a last name; his accent (in what few words he does say) is similar to that of Irina, Scully’s best surgical nurse, so they think of him as Honduran, whether or not that’s the case. He’s somewhere around 30, and has two inches and 25 muscled pounds on Mulder — lithe, ripped, and with the wingspan of an NBA center.

He makes them for law enforcement immediately, despite the years since they’ve been in the field, but he asks no questions about their service — or why they need his — and they pay him in cash.

Under Eduardo’s tutelage, four brutally early mornings a week, they both get leaner, harder, more flexible. Mulder quietly gives up his teenage junk-food diet — it won’t support this kind of training — and when Scully finishes the last of the bottles she picked up during BevMo’s most recent 5-cent wine sale, she doesn’t restock. They sleep better, they fuck more, they both stop needing their occasional anti-anxiety meds.

They don’t tell Eduardo when they’re back at the Bureau, but one steaming marshy 5:15 a.m. that summer, he straddles Scully as she bench-presses her last heavy rep and says in his calm but deadly-serious way: “You ready for fight?”

Mulder, who’s right there spotting for her, guides the bar from her shaking arms into the rests before he grabs a fistful of Eduardo’s painted-on tank top. “What the fuck did you just say to my wife?”

The next few seconds are a blur, at the end of which Mulder finds himself on the floor with the other man’s knee on his chest, and Scully held in a chokehold with Eduardo’s free arm.

“I say, you ready for to learn fight? I can teach you.”

He releases them and stands, as unruffled as if he’s just offered them tea and scones.

The things that have been bothering them lately, the feathery edges of paranoia about what lies in the shadows and what they might have to face now that they’re officially back in the mix — it takes but a second for their minds to connect in the old way, one live-wire glance between them, for both to heave out a yes.

Not here, he says; he’ll come to them. He warns them that they’ll get bruises, scratches, headaches, “make your whole house a mess” — they understand, they agree.

Eduardo may be a man of few words, but he delivers on every one of them.

It’s the oddest working partnership they’ve ever had, Mulder reflects one morning as she’s helping him get his arm into the sling that had been necessary after Sunday’s session: “We pay a guy money to come into our home twice a week and kick our asses — a guy whose real name and origin story we do. not. know, I might add — and then we’re so pumped, we have more sex than a couple of horny teenagers. Not that I’m complaining about that last part.” She laughs, agreeing, then scrapes her nails over his newly-chiseled abs — and once again, they’re almost late to work.

A week later, Scully hobbles gamely into the Hoover with a boot cast on her right leg and a yarn about jumping into a too-shallow pool; the fact that she actually sprained her ankle vaulting a stair rail in her apartment building with Eduardo in pursuit seems somehow implausible as an explanation. She’s not sure why neither of them are telling anyone about their increasingly-rough combat and evasion lessons, but they’ve apparently decided to keep it to themselves and pretend they’re just regular middle-aged agents with a normal level of field readiness. It’s that old instinct for cover, she supposes; better to let your enemies underestimate you, no matter how nebulous those enemies are.

She’s forced to explain herself at the hospital, though, when the department head stops her after a meeting for a little chat about how “ever since you’ve moved back in with your husband, Dr. Scully, I’ve been noticing … things that concern me. Now, I’m not judging, or implying — and of course this is off the record — but as your friend and a fellow medical professional, I have to ask: This contusion on your face — can you tell me how you got it?” She’s not sure Dr. Parekh buys the krav maga explanation, but it’s all she’s willing to say.

That evening, out at the house, is the first time she manages to fend off both Mulder and Eduardo, teamed up against her in an exercise Eduardo called “you get attack by two big motherfuckers, they gonna take you and put you in the trunk.” Her feral scream of victory as she stands astride Eduardo’s “dead” body leaves her voice raw; by the next morning, having traded control back and forth all night in bed with Mulder, she can barely speak at all.

The situation gets weirder, but so gradually that they barely notice: Eduardo stops texting in advance of showing up, and sometimes just accosts them — even in public places — with no warning. He turns off the power to the house, makes them fight in the dark, all three against each other. He handicaps them in various ways — handcuffs, zip ties, one of them dragging the faux-unconscious other. They switch from toy-store blasters to their real pieces — unloaded, of course, with safeties on and fingers nowhere near the trigger.

And then one day, they realize it’s been a week since they’ve seen Eduardo. Figuring they should keep in fighting trim, they turn off all the lights, pursue each other in the dark, end up fucking their brains out on the hardwood floor of Mulder’s office.

A week becomes two, then almost three. They improvise workouts, but start to worry that whatever brought Eduardo to them in the first place has found him.

Just when Mulder is about to start putting out feelers, they get a text from an unknown number: tonight 11 Go to the place I find you argue about if that girl isa good actor or no

The parking garage underneath the AMC Bayview 20 Theatres is deserted at that hour on a Monday. They go, expecting to engage — nerves alight, muscles tensed, adrenaline high. But there he is at the farthest, darkest end — not leaping at them from the shadows, but leaning against a ’70s Mercedes in $300 jeans and an ancient wool overcoat, looking like the scion of an old and wealthy family. He holds his arms up, palms toward them in a gesture of harmlessness, as they approach warily.

He gifts them with a rare smile, and they respond in kind, glad to see him unharmed. “I have to go now,” he says. “You not finishing you training yet, but you gonna be ok.”

“Where — why are you leaving?” Scully asks, half-aware of the bad form of asking that kind of question of a person who obviously wouldn’t or couldn’t answer truthfully. Eduardo just smiles again, shaking his finger at her.

“Best you not know. Come here.” He holds his arms out to them both for a hug. Pressed close to them, he murmurs quickly, with some urgency, “You know I am not Eduardo. I am not Adrian either but — is who I am for now. Entiende? I see those scars at the gym, I see how you together against everybody, all the world, is why I teach you fighting. I don’t know who you fighting, but you ready when they come, yes?”

Then he pulls back a little, turns to Mulder, and kisses him deeply, one arm slung low with the palm flat between Mulder’s shoulder blades — though he hardly needs the leverage — and the other caressing the back of his neck. When Eduardo breaks the kiss, he pivots immediately to Scully, brings her in like a dance partner and lifts her almost off her feet as he dips low to kiss her — a soldier going off to war.

His smile when he lets her go is brilliant but profoundly sad. The two of them stand there, blinking and stunned, as he backs away, opening the car door and shaking his head at them. “You should both have kick my ass for that,” he says with a rueful laugh. Then, soberly, he adds, “Buena suerte, my friends.”

“Buena suerte,” they mumble uselessly as he drives off, their hands finding each other without so much as a downward glance; he’s right, it’s the two of them against the world, and in that moment they’re conscious of just how much better prepared they are for whatever might come — will come.

They’ve never been this sharp, not even with the advantages of youth. And a few weeks later, when strange headlights come bouncing up their private road, they find that Eduardo was right: They are ready.

-------------------------------- @today-in-fic

[monsteronth3hill]

Get yourself a coffee or tea babes…this is going to be a long one.

Don’t get me wrong…Sharon Carter is so much more than a love interest for Steve, and the whole “cap virgin” shaming in She-Hulk is really gross to me for several reasons.

HOWEVER…the fact that Sharon wasn’t even presented as an option or mentioned by either Bruce or Jen in relation to Steve is infuriating to me, because it just goes to show that Marvel is actively burying her character and original place in the MCU.

Let’s be clear, I know this sounds hypocritical; I would probably be pissed if she was mentioned as a potential “conquest” for Cap because

A.) Knowing marvel, she would probably be made into the butt of a joke and

B.) Again, Sharon is more than just a love interest!!

BUT it just irks me endlessly that once again, Sharon is being erased from Steve’s story in favor of Pe*gy. For anyone wondering why I’m dragging Granny’s old dusty ass into this, just watch the She-Hulk credits. There is an illustration where Jen is presenting potential sexual partners that Steve might’ve had, and there’s a big picture of Pe*gy on her board.

I guess you could argue that the top right picture is supposed to be Sharon, but like…they didn’t even give her a face, when both of the other women have clear features. And if that IS the case……genuinely wtf. Are you so scared of tarnishing the oh-so precious Steggy that you can’t even show Pe*gy and Sharon in the same context?

And you can’t say “Well, no one knew about Sharon and Cap’s kiss, so how would Jen and Bruce even know about her?” because at this point, everyone in the MCU just magically knows everything about everyone because: writing (Was the battle against Thanos televised?! Somehow Carol and the Guardians have entire fandoms despite never publicly being superheroes?? Did Stephen go public with his decision to give up the time stone?).

This whole post is probably pointless, and I’m sure some will see it as a reach. But I’m tired of the MCU retroactively shitting on Sharon to prop up another character, and I’m just tired of the MCU in general. I think we need a break tbh.

Bonus: Tbh, I’m surprised (and grateful) that the She-Hulk writers didn’t have Bruce admit Steve somehow magically did have sex with Pe*gy in the main timeline in a blatant attempt to legitimize that crappy ship…because let’s be real, they would totally do that.

Bonus Bonus: what the fuck is Steve’s status in the MCU? Is he dead? Is he faking his death? Not that I want Endgame “Steve” to come back anytime soon, but the murkiness of his current whereabouts are very annoying as a viewer. She-Hulk and Spider-Man: FFH confirm that he is dead (at least to the public), whereas TFATWS sullied the waters and cast doubt on that?

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[selinakidreams]

Ship your moots!!!

👁y’all done it now, I was WAITING for this one OO I’m gonna spoil my moots SO bad ! I love you guys 👁

this is gonna be long I’m so sorry

@keishinslove - carter,,,, I love you and I love you w me mister keishin ukai- NOT just because that’s your ✨mans✨ but because I fuckin see it with my eyes. mister man is out here smoking a cig while he waits for you to get off of work. everyone is out here looking at him like “who dat b he’s sexy” and then you walk out and he drops the smoke on the floor, steps on it, and smiles as you make eye contact. You smile too, finally allowing exhaustion take over as you slump in the welcoming hug he pulls you into. He’s like, “I know baby, let’s go home and I can make us some ramen and tea.” The rest of the night is full of terribly sung songs, heavy MAKEOUT sessions (maybe more) and feathered touches along your skin. He’ll take good care of you (in every means) and that’s all I want for you <3

@alto-march-of-death al I ship you with tsukki- now let me tell you why. I see you with someone who’s very reserved with who they show their emotions to,, now because you deal with youngsters,,,,,,,,, that’s a lot of energy put towards you all at once. Tall blond dino dude will be there for you but in ways that make you feel special and the lack of energy he shows is almost calming to you. like like I just see on a day where zoom has been a bit too much and parents were DUMb- you slink over to your couch- after class is over- to find tsukki there, watching animal planet, and bam you plop down and curl up in his side- no words needed. His eyes don’t leave the screen but a long fingered hand lands on your thigh, his thumb doing that thing that makes butterflies flutter in your rib cage. It’s peaceful. Nice.

@kmorgzz ENERGY. POSITIVITY. COMPASSION. All things you and hinata share <3 OOOOOO KAR YOURE ALWAYS THE SWEETEST AND LET ME TELL YOU !!!! YOU DESERVE THAT SAME SWEETNESS. sorry I’m yelling but hear me out !!! You guys are always doing SOMETHING. he’s restless and you take on the energy he gives off. You guys tend to do stuff that you wanna do because whatever you want, he wants !! Normally, it’s outside (cause he’s the sun and he makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine !!) ; could be walks that lead into picnics or something super sweet!! Always wants to make sure you’re smiling !!!!!! ALWAYS. oh also he’s such a big himbo that he just—— yk what I’m gonna shut my trap just,, oh MAN he just loves you SO much and will never run out of ways to show you

@introloves Jax... FR fr I ship you and bokuto SO hard. like this man is and deserves sunshine— that is exactly what you are. TWO SUNSHINE BEINGS. I just SEE it. wholly. he’s just so open to everything and anything !!! Sometimes a bit.. daft... but you definitely talk him through things and he heavily appreciates that & everything you do for him. you know what,, y’all would soak in lavender baths together. Your back against his front, your eyes closed and body relaxed in the warm water; the sent of lavender following the steam that rises from the bath. He likes to play with your soft hair and whisper about how much he loves you and how you are one of the best people in his life. How did he ever get so lucky?

@novvabeam jackieeee,,, miss ma’am.. I ship you with daichi. lemme explain. This man is like a horse- not many can ride him but for those who do, it’s a lifelong partnership. Dude is so !! Into you it’s CRAZY. He is obsessed with how soft and kind you are one minute, and the next his head is spinning by how powerful and strong you can be. Mad respect™️. First date (idea suggested by you) was at this really cute local ice cream shop where you two bonded over how absolutely different your flavors were. I see it.

@pinkoushi ellen + Suga; clear as day. soft cuddles and every day fikas. very chaotic neutral energy but constant attention and praise is given. (Me trying not to make something based off my memories in Sweden but is gonna do it anyways) like I could see him being so excited to move to Sweden for the education system lowkey- but before he started the school year, you just wanted to take him around the country and visit all the “popular places” before settling down. Lots and lots of train rides. you would be sitting across from each other- you’re semi asleep, head pressed against the window and he’s just watching as the fleeting golden light hits you, making you all glowy. he feels so warm, so content.

@chaotickatts katts ;) I hear sakusa is calling your name. loud and clear. man puts up with NO bullshit and neither do you. Your communication skills are off the charts; calm cool, collected- that’s you two. But I also think that you add a lot more fun in his life- like he loves every second with you- he shows that he appreciates it in your guys’ shared love language, more often than not. And he adds this grounding element to your relationship that makes you feel capable of anything- and you make sure to tell him every day. I hc that people call you the parents of the group. Your guys’ bathroom is very clean, well organized, and used quite often. he loves seeing you in his jersey when you’re brushing your teeth, on your way to heading to bed, makes him feel all fuzzy,, a feeling that was quite foreign to him until you came along.

@spikesbimbo valentine... is that even a question- Aran. duh. Pretty lady, both of you are CRAZY for each other except he shows you in little ways (in public) that make your heart spin. You know those pictures of Vanessa hudgens and Austin butler?? the one where she’s twirling around and he’s just smiling? that’s the vibe I get in the relationship; you’re fun, loud, and outwardly fun while he’s just happy to be in your presence!! you make him laugh... a lot. It’s really refreshing to most of his friends. You and you’re cute goofy ass are just so important to him. I see it now- you guys are shopping at an outdoor mall, drinks in your hand and he’s carrying most of your guys’ purchases in one hand while the other is being swung by you. You’ve got big doe eyes as you look at every store, until you turn around, and flash him the biggest smile. “Want some? I’m almost out!” You’d say as you thrust him the drink. He’ll smile, a flash of pearly whites greeted you as he nodded and said a small “yeah,” before wrapping his lips around the straw.

@hajimeshon-ee menace, baby. it’s obviously gonna be iwa for you. big beefy to help you fight people who are being assholes. those same beefy arms that pull you in from behind- your back against his front. LOTS OF FUCKING FOREHEAD KISSES. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOURE POUTING TO HIM. sorry I don’t make the rules. He honestly thinks you’re the cutest thing, your fire matches his and sometimes actually stumps him to where he has no retorts. He likes to help you with your work sometimes, like when he sees it’s a bit too overwhelming for you, he’ll wordlessly sit down and take some of the papers that have been scattered across the table. Later you take the time to show him how grateful you are, wether it’s through a night where he gets to choose what both of you will watch or.. other things... he’ll appreciate every single second.

@kuroosusagichan meeeellll <3 business man kuroo is summoning you on his lap, he can’t focus unless you’re with him!! Oh GOD the dynamic Between you two makes me lightheaded!! Okay so idk is this is obvious but like dude has a size kink- not just sexually though. It’s like a cute AND sexy thing for him. Dude just loves how tiny and soft you are. But don’t get it twisted, he’s not completely fooled by your innocent act- you’re a clever little minx sometimes, but most of the time youre just the sweetest person. You’re like the angel that holds him back from being an asshole. He likes himself better when you’re around. Oh but he’ll also call you chibi-chan. Period. OH YEA! loves it when you show up to his place of work- no matter how swamped he is, he’ll always make time for his little sweetheart. You like to visit when you saw he was visibly stressed in the mornings, you bring him little things taht make him smile like his favorite iced tea or your a sweet lil cookie. He’ll make you stay with him for the rest of the day, doing your own separate things but also being in each other’s company relaxes the both of you.

@scorpiomoonslutt hey bitch, you needy lil whore <3 it’s gotta be Ushijima for me. Your size kink is just.................... thrown in his face and my god he’s living. You make him realize things he didn’t even think were possible- but anything is possible with you, apparently. The way his eyes go WIDE when he hears you SNAP at people. He had no idea that someone so small.. could shut someone up that fast... especially when it’s someone almost twice her size. He actually doesn’t even know how to react when the other person leaves, there’s wayyyy too many things going on in his head. He’s proud, impressed, turned on, curious, but most of all- speechless. He kinda... wants to see you do that again.

@dymphnasprose dymphna !! kyoutani!!! It just makes sense!! big angri boy needs parts on the head from a saint, such as yourself. He knows you’re not looking to fix him- which is why he allowed himself to open up to you. You love him just the way he is and it almost drove him a lil nuts. I could see the breaking point now- just before you two would get together. He would be yelling at you, screaming things like “how could you possibly like me ?” At first he wouldn’t let you get close to him but after several steps that never budged when he neared you, he gradually let you touch his heated skin. He was breathing heavy, trying to put together how someone so wonderful could be interested in someone who was so angry. I just feel that you would cup his face and whisper, “I like you because you’re you- it doesn’t matter who I am in comparison to you. I like you, taro.” There would be no need for gushy details, that alone opened a small part of his heart to love- throughout the years, the opening continued to grow and grow. He would be someone who just!! Loves you!!! And hates the rest of the world <3 idk I just love it jdbsjnd

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter,  word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off. 

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be. 

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number. 

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek. 

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you. 

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he? 

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day. 

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out. 

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.” 

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away. 

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand. 

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.” 

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads. 

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?” 

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter. 

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

 “Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones. 

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great! 

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no. 

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate. 

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and  from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along. 

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. 

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest. 

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.  

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school. 

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled. 

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam! 

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up. 

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself? 

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.” 

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating. 

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself. 

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[zandracourt]

Steve’s Playlist

Written for @the-sad-hatter’s Weird and Wonderful Challenge. This is the first fic I’ve written with a first person narrator. I tried to write it fully as an inserted reader, but that was just too weird for me, so I tried to make the first person as neutral as I could.

Prompt 26: I Put a Spell on You, Nina Simone

Steve’s Playlist

 Rated T/PG

It’s a few minutes before 1700 and Director Fury shouts my name as I turn off the light in my cubicle. 

“Agent, before you leave, can you take this to Rogers?”

I swallow hard, trying to play it cool. “Captain Rogers?” As if there is another one. Well, there is a Rogers down in accounting but I’m pretty sure the Director has no idea he even exists. He barely knows I exist. Though he did call me by name, so maybe it’s not a good idea to underestimate the Director’s pulse on the plebes of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Yes, that one.” Bingo “Do you know where his office is, on the 3rd floor?” Everyone knew the Captain had chosen an office across from the hanger bay. It faced the interior of the Triskelion, meaning its window looked out mostly on the walls of the other two buildings; nothing but concrete and glass. It was the kind of office some middle manager would have, not the leader of the Avengers. But the Captain liked being close to the hanger, often eating lunch in the Machinists Lounge with the ground crew. 

“I do. Just that then?” I held out my hand towards him.

He passed me a 11”x 17” Manila envelope, about an inch thick. “That’s all. Good night.” He turns away before I can wish him a good night back. 

As I get off the elevator, I can hear the steep trumpet crescendo of the opening stanzas of Sir Duke playing. Normally, the halls are quiet, but someone must be using the after-hours nature of their work to play music. S.H.I.E.L.D. rules prohibit connecting to any streaming services on company computers, so whoever it is has brought in speakers and must be playing it off their personal phone.  Turning down the hall brings the music even louder. 

Music is a world within itself, it’s a language we all understand, with an equal opportunity to sing and dance and clap your hands.

Stevie Wonder’s distinctive rhythm filled my ears, getting louder as I walked.  My mom used to play this song on her Hits of the ‘70’s CD. You can feel it all over. You can feel it all over, people!

By the time I round the corner to the inverted half-circle that makes up the interior of the uniquely shaped office complex, the source of the the music becomes obvious. It’s pretty loud now and I can see him standing at his elevated computer desk, his feet stepping in time to the music as he types that is rather adorable, but I tamp such thoughts down hard. This is Captain America for fucks sake. My knock clearly gives him a slight startle and I feel bad.

“Oh, hey.” He reaches over quickly and taps pause on his phone.

“You don’t have to stop on my account. I was told to bring you this.” I hold the envelope out for him, still standing just outside the doorway like a dumb-ass. It’s just an office, but it’s an Avenger office, which feels more sacred. 

Steve chuckles, “There’s no magic force field there you know. You can come in.”

Crossing the threshold, I can’t help but look around. He keeps his office pretty sparse. There’s a whiteboard on one wall and to the left of his desk, a framed picture of what looks like Benjamin Franklin holding a large balance scale with an old-time baseball player standing on half. Over the top of the players’ images are the words “Brooklyn Dodgers” on the left and “New York Yankees” on the right. Looking closer, you can see it’s from the 1941 World Series.

“Whoa, is that original?” 

He raises his eyebrows and whistles slightly. “Man, I wish. No, it’s a replica poster. But I had the playbook from that series. Went to every game and managed to get signatures on it from everyone but Riggs and Frank. I’d left it at my mom’s place when I enlisted but now it’s lost to time. If it survived, I’m sure it’s in some collector’s wall safe by now. You follow baseball?”

I shrug. “Not like that. I’m always up for a Nationals game if I get a chance. There is an energy watching live games that I enjoy, especially with good friends. But I don’t ever watch on TV.”

He nods. “TV wasn’t an option when I was a kid, just radio. But I agree with you. I still listen to games sometimes, but I don’t like watching them on TV. ‘Course, they aren’t in Brooklyn anymore, so they aren’t my Dodgers anyway.”

I looked down at the only picture on his desk. It’s a plain, pine framed image of three people sitting in what might be a large restaurant booth, but it’s hard to tell. They look happy, and maybe a little drunk. The woman I recognize immediately because her portrait hangs in the main foyer. Margaret Carter, one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D., though she’s much younger in his picture. The other two men I don’t know, though one is kind of familiar. “That’s Director Carter, right?” I ask, pointing at it.

Steve picks it up and hands it to me for a closer look. “Yeah. Spring 1944. Peggy. Howard. Bucky.” He points to each face. “That was taken at this restaurant Howard knew. No matter where we were, he knew the best places to go that hadn’t been bombed or raided and every waitress knew him by name.”

Now I knew why the man in the middle was familiar. His picture hung downstairs next to Director Carter’s, but he looks so good this picture. Now that I’ve made the connection, I can see the Stark resemblance.  

“Woah, Mr. Stark didn’t age real well.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and I wanted desperately to take them back. “I’m so sorry. That was...sorry.” 

My stomach clenches and temples throb with embarrassment. Who the fuck am I to criticize his friends? These people are portraits on a wall to me, but to him, they were drinking buddies. Best friends. The heat of my emotions races under my skin and I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye.

“It’s OK.” He takes the photo back, looking at it as he speaks. “Howard was so full of life and playful energy when I knew him. From what I understand, that changed as he got older. This is my memory of him though. And I’m glad I have it.”

His words shift my embarrassment to shame. “I’m glad you have it too. Can I ask...” He places the picture down and looks at me with such kind eyes I continue. “Where did you find it? I mean, it’s more personal than any S.H.I.E.L.D. photo I’ve seen and you said your stuff didn’t seem to stick around.” I was trying to cover my embarrassment with curiosity, seeking some neutral ground again.

“Tony gave it to me. I shot the photo, but I’d never seen how it turned out.” 

I’d heard that he and Iron Man didn’t always get along. Mostly gossip about how they bicker and would annoy the agents waiting to deploy on an op, so the Director had stopped sending them to the same places if he could help it. In this moment though, it was clear that Tony was a strong conduit to Steve’s past and it was hard to ignore the wave of loneliness that rolled off him. “It’s a great one. They look so happy.” He nods, continuing to look at it. I don’t want to step on his reminiscence so I turn to leave him to his thoughts. 

“Agent?” I stop and pivot just a little towards him. “The envelope?” I realize it’s still tucked under my arm and I look towards the ceiling in a desperate plea for The Powers of All to save me from any more stupid moves in front of this man ever again. 

“Right, sorry.” I say, hoping some old-time stage hook will just come drag me away.

“Thanks. And you don’t need to apologize all the time. You work here, same as me. You have as much right to be in this office as I do.”

O, Captain, that is not at all true. Thankfully, my brain stops my running mouth before I straight up contradict a superior, though I appreciate that he wants that to be true. “Good night, Captain.”

“Good night.” As I leave the office, the music starts again; this time playing playing Earth, Wind, and Fire’s September.

******

In any other context, I might object to being tasked as Director Fury’s delivery person with ever increasing regularity, since I’m an analyst, not a messenger. However, the only person he sends me to is Captain Rogers, so how can I complain? Yeah, he’s the 8th level of Dante’s Inferno kind of hot, but these end-of-work assignments have let me see Steve Rogers for who he is, not just a magazine cover story. Most of our conversations only last 4 or 5 minutes, but they are the best part of any day they happen. He’ll ask about my work and genuinely seems interested the data analysis I do. I don’t ask him about the rumors of missions he goes on because my security clearance is slightly above the kid who delivers our sandwiches at lunch time so I stick to topics of life outside of work. Surprisingly, he never seems to hold back personal stories. Especially ones of his past. Something extremely rare in this building. 

Every time the elevator doors open on the third floor after 1700, I can hear the music play. Marvin Gaye, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Aretha Franklin, Al Green, Otis Redding, Stevie Wonder, ...he definitely has a specific taste for 60′s & 70’s R&B. Today as I approach, the song plays slow and melancholy. 

You know I can’t stand it. Your running around. You know better, daddy. I can’t stand it, ‘cause you put me down. Yeah, yeah. I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

Something made me stop just outside his office this time, listening. I can see him sitting with his arm resting on his desk, playing with a metal coin of some kind while looking out the window. The coin is bigger than any currency I’ve seen, and thicker, like a medal or medallion. He idly flips it through his fingers, lost in thought as the trumpet plays a jazz rift.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you anyhow. And I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours anyhow. I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

A deep, mournful scatting ends the song so I knock lightly, knowing I’m interrupting something. He turns his head a little and nods, so I enter. As I get closer, I see wetness in his eyes. Not falling, just holding a firm tension at the edge of his lids.

“You OK, Sir?”

He sits up a little and shifts his chair so he’s fully turned towards me from behind his desk. “No need to call me Sir. And yeah, I’m fine.” He taps the coin on the desk and lays it down as he reaches over and pauses the playlist, which had shuffled to Bring It on Home to Me by Sam Cooke. 

“Please. Sit and talk to me for bit.”

This is the first time he’s asked me to sit during one of these after-work deliveries, making me wonder if he really is OK. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just needed to bring you this.” I slid the folder with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the front towards him. This one wasn’t classified, or I never would have been asked to bring it in an open file folder.

“You really gotta stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault or responsibility. You’re here because you were ordered to by Fury.”

“I don’t mind, really.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly in your job description to bring me files. It’s probably my fault you keep getting asked. After the first time, I was talking to Nick about the information you’d given me and I told him that I enjoyed talking to you.”

My ears feel warm at the compliment. “I enjoy talking to you too.” This feels so awkwardly intimate that I have to shift gears to ease my nervousness. “What is that?” I point to the coin.

He hands it over. It’s about an inch and half in diameter; punched brass in deep relief. The edges are slightly worn down but readable. The words “107th Infantry” along run along the outer edge with two crossed rifles in the center. 

“It’s a Challenge Coin. They became a thing with the OSS during the war, but after all they’d been through with Hydra, the 107th felt they deserved them too. So the junior officers had their own made.”

“Was that your unit?” I wished I recalled more from 10th grade history class.

“Not exactly. I was kind of my own unit, but I ran missions with the 107th and a few others once the Howling Commandos came together. That,” he gestures to the coin in my hand, “was Bucky’s.” 

I glance at the photo on the desk. After our first encounter, I’d Googled Bucky Barnes so I wouldn’t make any more asshole remarks about his friends and learned he’d been a Sergeant in the 107th. “Wasn’t he enlisted though?”

Steve raised an eyebrow.”You’ve been researching. Yeah, but he was also very good at placing bets he knew he wouldn’t lose. Won it off an LT we both didn’t like very much.”

Remembering his other stories of items lost to the past, I ask, “However did you find it?”

“Never lost it. The night before the mission where...” He paused and took a breath, “before he died, Buck had given it to me. It was still in my uniform pocket when they thawed me out.”

The question floated in the silence and I wasn’t sure if it was one he wanted me to ask or not. In all our conversations, he was profoundly honest, and he’d brought it up, so that seemed like a green light.

“Why did he give it to you?”

“I’ve thought about that over and over since the day he fell. At first, I thought maybe he knew somehow...that he wouldn’t make it back. In the years since... it seems more of a promise. Not sure what he was promising exactly, but that feels more right to me. Bucky never believed a mission would fail, so it makes no sense for him to give to me as a goodbye.”

“And that song? The one playing before I came in? I know it’s an oldie, but I didn’t think it went back to the ‘40s.”

He chuckled. “What’re talking about? To me, Nina Simone’s a baby.”

“That was a woman singing?” I’d heard of Nina Simone, but realized I didn’t know which songs she was famous for. 

“Yeah. Don’t you just love her voice?”

“She’s amazing.” I agree. “You listen to the blues a lot, I’ve noticed. Doesn’t that make you sad?”

“You think my music is sad?” He asks, not accusing, but with genuine interest. 

“Well, isn’t that what the Blues are? Songs for when you’re feeling down?”

“I read a quote once by Etta James, ‘When I’m singing blues, I’m singing life.’ I know a lot of folks around here think my life is sad; ‘cause of what I lost. And there are times I am. But when I listen to the blues, I don’t even think about the time since I woke up. I think about times before. Brooklyn. My mom. Breadlines around the block. Not enough coal to keep the room warm. Bucky. The War.  These songs, they feel like mine, even if it’s music from a later generation. Ya gotta listen to them with your heart. They aren’t sad at all really, just honest. The blues is life. Thanks for this.” He slid the folder over and placed it in his in-box. 

I hand the coin back to him and he places it in the front pocket of his cargo pants. “You’re welcome. Thanks for sharing. I always learn something when we talk.” I stand up to leave. 

“You’re easy to talk to. That’s a real gift. You ever thought of field work?”

I shake my head firmly. “No way. I learned real fast in academy that I’m as likely to shoot you or the wall as any target. I suck at firearms.” He laughs and bestows on me smile that reminds me why everyone loves him. “I like the work I do and I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Gotta love someone who knows their strengths and weaknesses. You don’t have to limit your visits to delivering Nick’s paperwork, y’know. Come by anytime.”

I nod. “G’night Captain.”

“Good-night.” He’d touched the music back on before I’d even turned around. 

If you ever change your mind about leaving, leaving me behind, Oh baby, bring it to me 

The lyrics followed me out the door and down the hall as I pulled out my phone to start making a new Spotify list. 

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (7/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,491

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing

masterlist

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long, guys.  Let me know what you think!

“Peter!” You groaned as you tried to get the webs out of your hair.  The sticky substance was difficult, and for a moment you were worried that you were going to have to treat it like gum.

To be fair, the boy who caused it was looking mighty ashamed, his cheeks red and shoulders tense. “S-Sorry, Y/N,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

The two of you had been playing around with his suit for about two hours, since he’d never really gotten to before Tony died.  He’d also turned off the training wheels protocol that was supposed to teach him about each function slowly, which is why he had no idea what would happen when he turned on ‘Rapid Fire.’

But then again, what the hell did he expect from a name like that?

“Agent L/N, you have a guest waiting for you in the communal area,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, startling the both of you.

“Were you expecting anyone?” The fifteen-year-old asked curiously.

Your brows furrowed as you continued to pick at the webs in your hair, heading for the door.  “No.”  The rest of the team wouldn’t be announced as a guest, and they’d just find you.  They wouldn’t wait in the communal area.  But then again, it’s not like you really knew anyone that wasn’t a part of the team.  “Peter, stay here.”

“Absolutely not,” he retorted, running after you.  “What if it’s a bad guy?  I can’t leave you alone!”  He must’ve caught the look in your eyes, because he added, “N-Not that you can’t take care of yourself!  I just… I wanna make sure you’re safe.”

Sighing, you motioned for him to follow you, knowing there was no way he would leave you alone now. In the two weeks since the Fourth of July barbecue from Hell, he’d been over almost every day.  He’d said that it was prep for his trip to Europe in August, but you knew better.  If it was any other teenager, you’d have found it annoying, but because it was Peter and he was so sweet and sincere, it was rather endearing.

It made you wonder if it’s how Natasha felt about you, even though she’d never gotten to see you at fifteen.  She’d gotten out of the clutches of HYDRA at that point, joining S.H.I.E.L.D. in the process.

But maybe that’s how Bucky had seen you.  After all, he’d first started training you at that age.

“Y/N, this is the Winter Soldier,” Madame B said as she stood behind you, her hands resting on your shoulders.  At just fifteen years old, you’d proven yourself to be the most promising of all the girls in the Red Room.  You were deadly with any weapon—a gun, a bow, your body—but you were exceptionally good with your knives.  Perfect, even.

Just that morning you’d sunk your knife into one of the older girl’s necks with just a flick of your wrist.

You would’ve felt bad, except she knew what she was getting into when she challenged you.  She’d been so close to graduating and had figured that choosing a girl three years younger would make her seem much better than she was.  But the fight was over the second it started. You’d simply pulled out your knife—the only weapon allowed in hand-to-hand—and threw it at her. Everyone in the room had watched as she fell to the ground, clutching at her throat while you stood there, looking pristine as ever.

The sound of her blood gurgling in her throat still rang in your ears.

The man in front of you was stunning.  It was really the only word you could think of that was appropriate.  His long chestnut hair fell in waves around his face like some kind of rogue from the fairytales the older girls whispered to the fresh arrivals when they cried into the night.  Even though his lips were chapped from the harsh Russian cold and his eyes had dark circles underneath, he was beautiful.  Ethereal. Like a God of the Dead, coming for his spoils.

“Soldat, this is Y/N,” Madame B said, shoving your forward.  “Your trainee.”

You stumbled but somehow managed to catch yourself, finding yourself almost chest-to-chest with the man.  Heart pounding, your eyes slowly traced up the black Kevlar covering his chest to lock with his.  As good as you were at hand-to-hand, you knew that this man could snap you in half without so much as blinking.  Girls had heard the stories of him from when he’d trained Natalia.

And now he was here for you.

“Hello, Soldat,” you said, voice wavering as you tried to find your courage.

“Come,” he rasped, his tone leaving no room for argument as he turned on his heel and led you through the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., you didn’t let a potential threat in, did you?”

If an A.I. could be indignant, she certainly was.  “Of course not, Agent L/N.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, though you knew it wasn’t really the time as you power-walked down the hallway.  “Sorry, Fri.”

“What are you doing here?”

You frowned as you heard Peter’s tone, rushing forward.  In your day dreaming, the boy had gotten ahead of you and had found your mysterious visitor first.  “Peter, that’s—”  You broke off as you saw her sitting there on the couch.

Peggy Carter-Rogers.

The elderly woman immediately stood, clearing her throat.  She daintily wiped her hands on her pants and it disgusted you.  “Hello, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, though you made a point to not be so aggressive as your favorite Spider-Boy.

It was a little adorable how he still insisted on standing in front of you, puffed up like a chihuahua. “Y-Yeah, what she said!”

“I just want to talk,” the Brit said, her lilting voice soothing you, even if you didn’t want it to.  There was something so relaxing about her presence and it drove you insane.  “Without my idiot of a husband mucking it all up.”

You couldn’t help but snort as you crossed your arms over your chest, but you didn’t immediately dismiss her.  “He does that a lot.”

Her lips—perfectly painted red, as usual—stretched as she tried not to grin.  “Especially when it comes to talking to women.”

Well, you had two choices. You could turn her away and go back to sitting in Tony’s lap with Peter and consistently wonder what she was going to say, or you could listen and maybe get some closure.  As fucked as it was, you really didn’t want to go with the latter.  It’d be so much easier to just go back to the lab and pretend like she’d never come.

But you knew that it wasn’t the right decision.

“Peter, you can go back to the lab.  I’ll be there soon,” you said, your eyes never leaving Peggy.

He seemed ready to protest but thought better, taking a deep breath in.  “Call if you need me,” he said, before disappearing back down the hall.

“Sorry about him,” you said as you stood in place, watching her cautiously.  “He’s—”

“Protective?”  She laughed, sounding like bells that rang a death march.  “It’s alright.  I assumed as much when he glared at Steve for the rest of the Fourth of July party after you left.”  Peggy motioned to the couch as she sat, and it struck you how odd it was that she was the one inviting you to sit in your own home.

Either way, you sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, your hands delicately placed in your lap.  You weren’t sure what to do with them, what to say. “He’s a good kid.”

She cleared her throat as the awkwardness hung in the air, the both of you trying to find where to start. “I am sorry,” she said suddenly, her brown eyes flashing over to you.  “And not just about Steve.  I was the one who told him it’d be okay to not call ahead.  I wasn’t thinking about how it might make you feel.  I just knew how badly he wanted to see everyone.”

“It’s alright, rea—”

“No,” she interrupted, reaching over to take your hands in hers.  You fought back the urge to yank them away, knowing that you were going to have to give a little.  “It was inconsiderate.”  Her eyes searched your face for a long moment.  “You remind me of myself, you know.”

Startled, you shook your head.  “What? No, I—”

“You’ve been fighting war after war for years,” she said, her voice shaking.  “You have the same look in your eyes that I’d see in every soldier back in the forties.  Steve has it. Bucky has it.”  She let out a weak laugh, looking down at your hands, young and supple against her own.  “Sometimes I forget how young we all were.  Hell, sometimes I forget how young you are when Steve tells his stories.”

Heart leaping in your chest, you tried to keep your cool even though you felt like you were going to vomit.  “He talks about me?”

“Of course, he does,” she said, sadness seeping from her pores.  It clearly distressed her that you thought he wouldn’t.  “You mean the world to him.”

“You have to forgive me for not really believing that,” you said as you took your hands from hers.

Peggy nodded, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth.  “Like I said, Steve doesn’t understand women at all.  Or how to communicate with them.  But he really does care about you.”  She smoothed down her pants slowly.  “When he… When he first came back to me and he told me about you…  I admit, I was jealous.  You were this brilliant agent, good enough to join the Avengers at just eighteen.  You had him for over eight years.”

“But he still chose you,” you reminded her, tears pricking your eyes.  Desperately blinking them away, you hoped she didn’t notice.

And she couldn’t argue against that.  “I suppose the point I’m trying to get at is that even though it might not feel like it, he loves you.  He always has.”  She swallowed thickly, her hands moving more and more as she spoke.  “He’d tell me about all the different missions you went on and how you can hold your own against him and Bucky, even though you’re not a super soldier.  How you rebelled against the United Nations and became an international criminal.”

And it hit you that she felt just like you did.  Even if she’d had years to get over it, she knew exactly how you felt.

But in her case, you were the untouchable one.

“He carries this picture of you with him,” she said, taking you by surprise once again.  “He put it in the compass that has the picture of me in it, knocked out the glass bit.  Said it’s so he has both of us close to him at all times.  It’s…”  Peggy cleared her throat and it somehow still sounded ladylike.  “It’s this photo of you in his shirt.”  The air felt thick around the two of you as she chuckled.  “When I first saw it, I wanted to rip it up.  Burn it.  Eventually, though, I understood.  At least a little bit.”

“How?” You asked, knowing how weak you must’ve sounded.  “Because I’m trying to understand, and I just… can’t.  Anytime I try, I just feel abandoned.”

“To be quite frank, sometimes I still don’t.”  The older woman’s fingers were fiddling together, and your eyes focused in on the slightly chipped red nail polish.  The one thing on Margaret Carter Roger’s exterior that wasn’t perfect.  That reflected her anxiety as she picked at the polish.  That she wasn’t as perfect as you had thought her to be.  “He says your name in his sleep sometimes.  Cries and thrashes around.”  She blew out a huff of air, not meeting your gaze.  “Sometimes it’s nightmares of you dying.  Sometimes it’s just you telling him you don’t love him, and it’s enough to cause him to panic.”

You blinked slowly, trying to take it all in.  “I…  I didn’t realize.”

She sniffled, a sad smile on her lips.  “It’s better for him to explain exactly what he was thinking, but…  I didn’t think you’d listen unless I talked to you first.”  She shook her head, turning back towards you. “Not that you have to listen to him. Lord knows that he doesn’t deserve it. But I think it might help, if you knew why he did what he did.”

“Do you…”  You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how exactly to ask your next question.  “Do you want to stay for lunch?”  You knew that this was big, this was an olive branch you were extending to her.  “We’ve both heard so many stories about each other, I think it’s only fair that we get to know each other without all the sugar coating.  We both know Steve tends to… exaggerate his stories a little.”

Peggy seemed to light up at the suggestion, standing up and following you towards the kitchen.  “That would be wonderful.”

“Y/N?” Bucky called as he walked into the lab, frowning when he only saw Peter and Bruce poring over a hologram.  Neither of them looked up when he walked in and he cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He coughed, raising his eyebrows.

Nope.

The super soldier sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Y/N’s been kidnapped.”

Both of them immediately looked up, panic written all over their faces.  Peter looked ready to take down all of New York City as he pushed his stool back with a creek and Bruce was starting to look a little green around his neck.

“What the—”

“What happened to—”

“So all I have to do to get the two of you to pay attention is to say something’s happened to Y/N,” Bucky said, tapping his temple as though to demonstrate that he was making a note of it.  “Great.”

Bruce glared at him, huffing.  “So Y/N wasn’t actually kidnapped?”

“No.”

Peter looked utterly betrayed.  “Mr. Winter Soldier, you can’t do that.”

Bucky sighed, raising his hands in surrender.  “Fine. I’m sorry.  That was a low blow of me.  But have any of you seen Y/N?”  He looked around the lab, as though he might find her playing a game of hide-and-seek that he didn’t know he was a part of.  “She told me she was gonna be in the lab.”

“Oh, M-Mr. Rogers’s wife—uh—Mrs. Peggy is here,” the teenager said, shrugging at his confused expression.

The hundred-year-old man felt his age as he stormed out of the lab.  While he didn’t think Peggy would purposefully hurt you, he also knew that her impromptu visit might not be what’s best for you.  His hands were clenched into fists at his side as he entered the communal area. There were signs of lunch being made in the kitchen, but no Peggy and no you.

He stood there for a long moment, perking up as he heard giggles from down the hallway.  He tiptoed towards the sound, surprised to find it coming from your old room, the one you had shared with Steve.

You and Peggy were sitting on the bed, giggling as you flipped through all the photos you had of the former Captain America.  You were sitting cross-legged and had on one of Bucky’s hoodies that he’d been trying to find for days.

And you were talking about Steve and not crying.

He hid behind the door so that neither of you could see him, listening in with a faint smile on his lips.

“—from the night he asked me on a date,” you said as you held out a picture of the two of you.  “We got lost while on a mission when our comms went out, and pictures ended up in the New York Times because someone recognized him.”

“Steve, I just really think we’re lost,” you said, wincing as you tried to keep up with the super soldier.  You’d twisted your ankle four blocks before and it sent a pang through your entire calf with every step you took.

It didn’t help that your captain hadn’t even thought to slow down for you, too convinced that he knew the way to stop and reevaluate.

He just grumbled, shaking his head.  Turning a corner, he stopped as he realized that going that direction would lead the two of you to a main road, and you were trying to stay out of sight.  He quickly turned on his heel to keep down the path you were originally on.  “No, we’re—”

You yelped as your foot caught on a loose brick of the cobblestone street, sending you straight to the ground.  “Fuck!  Shit! God FUCKING damn it!” You cursed, holding your ankle as tears sprung to your eyes.  It would be your luck to twist the same ankle twice in twenty minutes and you were pretty sure there was no way it wasn’t strained.

The blond was immediately on you, all furrowed brows and panicky hands.  “What the hell happened?”

“If you weren’t so busy insisting you were right, you would’ve noticed that I twisted my ankle ten minutes ago, and now it’s fucked up again, asshole,” you snapped.  You knew that it wasn’t fair of you but you were tired, you were hurt, and all you wanted was a bottle of vodka.  The kind that the Asset snuck for you, once upon a time.

God, that was the good shit.  Smooth.  Expensive. An already half-drank bottle stolen from Madame B’s office.

Steve’s teeth grinded together as he tentatively tried to move your ankle, causing you to hiss and jerk back away from him.  “I’m sorry!”

“I told you it fucking hurts!” You retorted, cheeks red.

“I was trying to make sure it wasn’t broken!”

“I could’ve told you if it was!”

“You don’t know—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I do and don’t know.  I think I know my own body.”

He stood up, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “You’re being difficult.”

“Yeah,” you said with an eye roll, grimacing as you scooted over to rest against the wall of the alley.  You could see a few people passing by the entrance he’d been trying to avoid, despite the late hour.  “Because I’m the one who was so sure of themselves that they weren’t paying attention to their partner.”

Steve scoffed as his hands went to his hips, reminding you just how much attitude America’s Golden Boy had.  “Maybe because I know what—”

“No!  You don’t!” You said, eyes squeezing shut as you started to stand up, clinging to the wall and jumping around a bit on your good ankle.  “Stop being such an ass!”

“And to think I thought about asking you on a god damn date,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled the comm out of his ear. Squinting in the darkness, he started fiddling with it, twisting the different parts this way and that.  You knew he’d probably end up breaking it, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell him and piss him off even more.

“I am not doing this right now,” you said, closing your eyes as you prayed to whatever greater being happened to be listening that the others would find you two soon.

Steve threw his comm to the ground, and you were about to yell at him for it, but he went into another rant.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Taking a step towards him, you ignored the way your ankle shouted in protest.  “It’s not like you were actually going to ask me on a date.”  You needed to make your point and that included trying to take an intimidating step towards him while poking a finger into his chest that happened to be as wide as a fucking football field.

“Yes, I—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you laughed, your heart twisting with pain.  “For the past year, you’ve done nothing but flirt with me and get close to me, only to push me away.  And you know, at first, I thought it was because I’m only nineteen.  And I would’ve understood that.  But then I heard you telling Tony that age doesn’t matter that much to you, so it can’t be that.”  You ran your fingers through your hair, wishing that you’d brought a ponytail for the umpteenth time.  “I’m not playing this stupid game of, of tug-of-war with you!”  You took another step and immediately started to crumble.

But Steve caught you before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapping around your waist.  “I’ve got ya, doll,” he said, his breath hot against your face as he helped you straight up, holding you flush against his chest.  “Let’s get you out of here.”

You nodded, already accepting the fact that he was going to ignore your little outburst, your moment of vulnerability. He turned and bent down, coaxing you up so you were riding piggyback.  He smelled like the alleyway, like sewage and trash, but you could pick out the faint scent of his aftershave underneath all of that as you wrapped your arms around him. As you closed your eyes, you were faintly aware of him heading towards the main road on the other end of the alley, but chose not to bring it up as you closed your eyes.

No use even chancing a fight.

The gentle sway of his strides was lulling you to sleep, and you didn’t even register the fact that several people had recognized the infamous Captain America and were starting to take photos.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

There was a long pause, the lights of the main street slowly fading as he carried you further and further away.  Turns out, it was much easier to find out where you were if you had street signs.  “Would you go on a date with me?”

“As long as you stop being an asshole,” you murmured, falling asleep to the deep rumble of his laughter.

“He didn’t even ask me on a date,” Peggy said with a groan, shaking her head fondly at the memory as she looked at the newspaper clipping.  Someone had managed to get a shot of you two while he was carrying you, your face half hidden in the crook of his neck.  “Even when he came back, I had to be the one to ask him out.”

You erupted into giggles, falling back on the bed, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.  Hearing you laugh and joke about your ex was a major step up.  Especially considering the disaster that was the Fourth of July party.

The older woman hummed as she flipped through more of the photos, smiling as she held up one of you and Bucky that Steve had taken.  It warmed your heart, reminding you of a time that seemed so much simpler even though it most definitely wasn’t.

“I just don’t understand it,” Steve said for what must’ve been the eighteenth time.  He finally put his cards down, choosing instead to sit back and watch.  “I’ll just watch you young whippersnappers play.”

“I’m older than you, dumb ass,” Bucky said with a smirk as he set down one of his white cards onto the pile.

Sam picked up all the white cards, shuffling them as he grumbled.  It had become a new rule that each person had to shuffle the cards before reading them, since Sam wouldn’t ever pick a card that the Winter Soldier laid down.  They were still in that weird ‘we’re friends but only because Steve is our friend’ stage.

Though, being on the run with only each other to talk to was quickly cementing their friendship.

“Alright, who the hell put down ‘the Rapture?’”

“That would be me,” Natasha said with a triumphant grin, reaching over and grabbing the card.  She then snatched a black card, reading, “I got ninety-nine problems but blank ain’t one.”  Standing, she shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie.  “You guys want anything to eat?” She asked as she headed for the hotel room’s tiny kitchenette.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Sam said as he also stood.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as he watched you and Bucky stare into each other’s eyes, mischievous smirks on your faces. It was nice, seeing how well the two of you got along.  He held up his camera—the one you’d gotten him for his birthday the year before—and snapped a picture, neither of you hearing the soft click.

“Hmmm…,” Bucky hummed as he picked through his cards. “Should I go with ‘Seventy-Two Virgins’ or ‘Erectile Dysfunction?’”

“Oh, ‘Erectile Dysfunction,’” you said as you leaned back against the couch.  You were bundled up in a giant sweatshirt—whether it was Steve or Bucky’s, none of them knew at that point—and fuzzy socks.  You looked so cozy, so warm.  Like you weren’t stuck in a cheap hotel in Norway, thousands of miles from home.

And once again, he was reminded just how lucky he was to have you.

“Steve mentioned that you two have a history,” Peggy said slowly, carefully gauging your reaction.  “From before you even met Steve.”

Bucky bit his lip, as he tried to not make any noise.

“Yeah.  He, uh…”  You trailed off, blushing a rosy pink as you looked at the photo.  You’d gotten it developed after the Snap, wanting as keep every memory of your friends that you could.  “He helped train me in the Red Room.”

The Brit smirked as she nudged you, raising her eyebrows.  “You’re blushing.”

“I…”  You picked at a loose thread in your comforter.  “I had a crush on him back then.  It was dumb.  I was seventeen, it wasn’t appropriate.”

Bucky’s heart caught in his throat as all his feelings welled up.  You were right, it wasn’t appropriate.  You’d been seventeen, about to turn eighteen, when he’d realized he had feelings for you.

And he’d immediately told his handler.  In a subtle way of course, not wanting it to be obvious.  He’d quietly asked him when the next time he would see you was, making sure to emphasize the ‘see you.’  Normally, he didn’t ask anything, but if he did, it was always ‘When am I training again?’

His handler had picked it up immediately, and he’d been wiped.  He’d protected you from himself, not wanting to be the creepy old man preying on a young girl.

Bucky took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut before walking down the hall.  He didn’t need to listen to the rest of your conversation.  His heart couldn’t take it at the moment no matter which way it went.

[raleigh-ocean]

bonnie and clyde's homebody's days | part 1 | natasha romanoff x sharon carter

words: 5,050

summary: Every day she spent by Sharon’s side, made Natasha realize how little she knew about her but at the same time how much she could actually understand about the woman. However, Sharon realized exactly the same about the Black Widow.

But now that they were together —for what it seemed a long time—, they could actually fix everything in their own weird way. Being homebodies together seemed a really good way to get to know each other better.

And Natasha liked it.

Because that was everything she wanted from a long time ago.

n/a: i had this story on my ao3 for a really long time and I thought maybe posting it here will make me want to keep writing it, because I had such good feelings about it...so here you have the first chapter while I write the third part of ashes to ashes!

part 1: homecoming

Her whole body ached from holding on the adrenaline, but she had to in order to get the job done. During the day, she had been getting every bit of intel she could get from the neighborhood people, playing the innocent soon-to-be-neighbor that wants to know a bit the whole place before finally moving in. It was good to not feel like everyone was about to jump over her back, ready to delate her and arrest her.

Running her fingers through her now short hair, she wondered if it was even a good idea. She was going to shoot her, in the best case, but she could get away from it with her natural gift of the gab. But she was going to beat her up, oh yeah, and it was going to hurt...for a day, maybe, two if she shoot her.

She looked up at the apartment block from the terrace where she was sat at. The last one was hers, she studied the whole place from her laptop when she did some research field at the station. Escaping from Berlin was the easiest thing she ever did, but as much as she wanted to not be noticed, being the worldwide-known-redhead didn’t help her a bit. With luck she had managed to reach Belarus before anyone notice her, but then a few agents from the Interpol tried to casually knock her down. The idea of dying her hair wasn’t really attractive but it was for the best. Another thing that she didn’t like at all. She really hated blonde, with every drop of her whole being, only liking it on her.

Sharon’s blonde wasn’t that light. It was way darker, caramel-like.

Hers was almost white, platinum, and she hated it even more thanks to her memories.

Gulping down the rest of her coffee, she prepared herself to climb to the top of the building. If she entered by the front door, then it would be so rookie of her. Like a mere burglar, too loud, too childish. Her backpack had only a few things she got to get before running away. Her laptop, her favorite pair of boots, a few of her toys and some clothes. She felt like a soldier, too little in her back and none to come back home to.

While climbing from the back alley, she remembered her trip. After Belarus she went to Russia right away, to clear her mind and find some old connections that would help her get some new documents and another intel she would need after parting ways with everyone she knew. For a second, around the fourth block, she had to stop. Hanging there from a balcony, thinking that she was alone now with none to care if she let herself fall from that high—she could hear Sharon already, giving her the scold of her life while she probably bleed to death, her brain all over the pavement.

But now there she was, in Finland, climbing Sharon’s apartment block to get in hers and be shoot by the same woman out of surprise. Lovely plan, she chuckled giving herself a last push in Sharon’s balcony.

The metal balcony was frozen, making her feet hurt from the cold that passed through her thin climbing shoes. Taking one of her toys out of her even thiner coat, the window lock gave in really easily. It was bloody cold out there, she hadn’t any bit of patience after being the whole day wandering around in that cold town Sharon decided to settle her safe place.

When her feet touched the carpet, she looked around to take a glimpse of the whole living room. Sharon wasn’t home, not yet at least, giving her a little time to think about what she was going to tell her.

She closed the window with care —trying to not be noisy anyway, out of habit— and when she turned around to start walking towards the lamp at the corner of the room, an iron fist met her jaw with a powerful hook.

Dizzy for a second, she managed to take a wrist and then throw a blind punch that landed right in someone’s shoulder. The attacker didn’t seem to feel it, because they threw another punch and then connected it with a side kick that she got to stop. The electricity shone for a second before her punch landed right in her attacker’s stomach, getting a shriek of pain from them. But that didn’t last much, because the attacker held her arm before kicking her ribs twice. With her last electric charge wasted, she tried to knock the attacker down with all her strength, jumping over them and encircling her legs to their neck before smash both fists in their head.

However as she was encircling her legs around their neck, the attacker put both hands in her thighs before spinning around and making her to lose her balance and land against the wall. That kicked the air out of her lungs immediately and quickly she was retained in a headlock. The attacker strength was enough to strangulate her now that she didn’t have much of hers to counterattack.

Feeling the lack of oxygen creeping into her, her hand wandered blindly around her till she got something and she smashed it in the head of her attacker, breaking free finally and rolling away from them.

In her head, every single bit of intel passed at light speed, only wondering if someone had found Sharon before her and they were going to get her right in the moment she steps in her apartment. She had to get rid off them before she came back home, she had to save her—

“Don’t you fucking dare to move,” she felt the cold bite of a gun in the middle of her forehead. The voice was twice as cold and a little click from the safety made her shiver. “Because I won’t hesitate on painting my wall with your head.”

She kept being still where she was, her brain stuck on what the attacker had said. Her voice was cold, yeah, but she could figure out a soft accent from someone that was too into getting unnoticed. And also, the remark on ‘my wall’ made her panic.

It was Sharon. Sharon was the attacker.

Before she could say something, they heard someone walking towards the front door. In the darkness, she saw Sharon put a finger over her lips to shush her. Whoever was behind the door, asked worriedly if Sharon was okay but the old lady —as she could discern perfectly- called her ‘Elisabetta’ instead of her real name. Sharon replied in loud italian, almost cheerful to match the lie that came with her words —bang her head? Against the shelf? And then knock off the wardrobe?— and waited a minute before pressing the gun a bit more against her skin. When the old lady went away after making Sharon promise that she will pass by her house next morning, to check if she was really okay, and she swore she had seen the determination to kill her in Sharon’s eyes.

Natasha never blurted out something that fast ever in her life.

“It’s me, Sharon. It’s me, please, don’t shoot,” for once she really felt her tears piling up in her eyes. “Put the safety on the loaded gun, baby. Put the safety on, damn it.”

Sharon kept the gun against her skin but her voice sounded different when she talked next.

“Natasha?” That was more warm and more like the Sharon she knew. “What are—bloody hell, Natasha.”

A weak smile rolled over Natasha’s lips but when Sharon turned on the light, the smile died. Sharon was bleeding from her head, the blood dripping over her right eye; her face had the pain painted all over it, matching with her right arm resting in her stomach; and her shoulder looked...off. Natasha was way less harm than her, only feeling a little ache in her throat and maybe she would have a bruise in her cheek from the punch.

Her dark brown hair was just an insignificant detail compared with the rest.

“When did you got this strong? Baby has some iron punches,” Natasha tried to brush the situation off, trying to play along with a smirk. “Are you going to keep pointing at me with the gun or would you like me to help you?”

Sharon’s face got even colder with the remark. Natasha knew that she didn’t let a spark of her shine for at least four or five months but now she was there, alive. When she heard the soft click from the safety, Natasha felt herself relax. But Sharon wasn’t, and her lips were pressed in a strong line before say something.

“You electrocuted me,” her hand tighten over her stomach, Natasha feeling a rush of guilty washing her from head to toe. “After barging in my apartment, four and half months without any trace of you or any of the others,” she wiped with shaking fingers some blood off her face. Natasha stood there, looking at her. “And the only thing you say is ‘baby has some iron punches’?”

“Would you be happier if I’d said ‘I’m home, my love’?” Natasha tried to sass her way out of Sharon’s building anger.

“I’d be okay without my butcher telling me there was this strange blonde woman acting all suspicious around town, creeping the shit out of everyone around the block,” Natasha hit the first strike just with her try of avoiding it. “Did you think for a second that I was myself hiding?”

“I thought you were here because the CIA wanted you here,” Natasha, don’t lie, it’s even worse if you do it. The little voice in her head was always so right in these cases. “You’re always the perfect one, babe.”

“After stealing government stuff, I was included in the same list as you all,” she tried to smile but she drop it immediately. “Not even a kiss from Captain America himself make any of this slightly better.”

Natasha felt cold, her whole body aching inside because of the confession.

“I thought you were satisfied with the Black Widow eating you out,” she felt the second strike as soon as those words left her mouth, Sharon’s eyes darting to hers menacing. “Next time I see that moron, you bet I’m going to crack his skull.”

“Your childish jealousy it’s making me dizzy, Romanoff,” she said coldly, letting the gun over the table and looking really pale at this moment. Natasha worried immediately, taking a few steps towards Sharon before she lifted her good arm to stop her. “I swear if you say something else to sass your way out from this, I’m kicking you out.”

“I smashed a crystal ashtray against your head, sweetie,” Natasha was serious now but she stopped when Sharon’s hand touch her belly. She could see her tears falling freely from her eyes and her hand gripped in Natasha’s thin coat. “I think you’ll need stitches.”

“What I need now is a glass of bourbon,” Sharon’s voice cracked as soon the words left her mouth. “And I won’t say no to a kiss, maybe.”

No third strike. Natasha kneeled in front of the other woman before pulling her into a kiss. It tasted salty but she didn’t care a single bit. She pulled away a little, letting out a soft chuckle that made Sharon flinch and let out a few more tears. With care, she wiped them with her thumbs before pressing her lips together again. This was what she loved from her girl. She could be ready to take her down one second and the next she could melt her insides, only being the big nervous ball of fluff she was under the facade of ‘agent’.

It took a couple more of minutes for Sharon to let go of her. Natasha stood up, going towards the cupboard to get a glass and pour the alcohol there. The strong drink made her grimace twist a bit, but when she saw her girl chug it as if was water she let out a muffled laugh. Her fingers ran through Sharon’s dark locks, checking the open wound before asking quietly where the first-aid kit was. Head wounds could be so scandalous, she thought while cleaning the cut placed in Sharon’s hair line. Natasha put her shoulder back after she had chug another glass of strong bourbon and, after checking the electroshock wasn’t going to make her have a heart attack, she proceeded to take care of the burnt in Sharon’s stomach.

“I like your hair,” those four words were followed by the brunette brushing with care Natasha’s short hair.

“I like yours too, silly,” a light chuckle before a kiss in her cheek. “I have to say this before I blurted it out in an inappropriate moment." Sharon tried to hold her head with her good hand. "Babe, you really look like you're her love child.”

Sharon smiled at that for a second and then she sighed deeply. The sigh gave Natasha the feeling that she didn't have to say that. There was something behind her behavior that she didn’t want to tell yet and Natasha knew it by the way she was trying to avoid eye contact. She understood, smiling warmly before making her lying down in the couch. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, but Sharon caught her hand before making her way to the kitchen. She didn’t look at her and Natasha had to be the one talking again.

“I’m starving, I thought it would be really cool if I make some supper for both,” she ran her thumb over Sharon’s back of the hand to calm her down.

“You won’t go, right?” Her voice was soft and cautious, not letting show more feeling that she already had shown. “You came here for a reason.”

Natasha leant one more time over Sharon to press a kiss in her forehead. It made her feel heavy inside when the other woman talked with that tiny voice. She had talked like that a few times in front of her, the last one in Berlin when they met briefly before everything went down hill, right after Peggy’s funeral. It was the girl behind the agent, the girl that caught her around her fingers when she didn’t notice, the girl that she was willing to give in every single time her brown eyes locked with hers.

“I thought you wanted to move in with me,” Natasha faked a hurt voice before keep talking with playfulness dripping in every word that left her mouth. Sharon’s hand slapped her thigh. “And no, I won’t go. We will have time tomorrow to talk, Bonnie, but for now let Clyde take care of you.”

Sharon chuckled something that seemed like ‘why are you always Clyde’, trying to sound more cheerful than the last interactions they had. However, from the kitchen, Natasha saw how she put her gun near her in the table. That little detail made her wonder about what the other woman had been put through during their separate time.

She didn't miss either how Sharon flinched slightly when she put the plate over the living room table.

...

Sitting cross-legged over the toilet, Natasha rubbed her temples with her fingers. It was nearly four in the morning, way after they decided that it was a really good idea to get some sleep. She took the couch for once in her life, trying to give Sharon some space to think alone. She decided not to ask for anything more than a shower, letting her desire of working in her laptop die when Sharon got pale with the mention of it.

Natasha was a nervous ball on daily basis, she couldn't stay still for five minutes without jumping into weird monologues or without start messing around with whoever was near her. It was something that came with her personality, it was Natalia trying to get out in someway. And lately these days, she felt more like Natalia than Natasha. That's why she was locked in the only bathroom of the apartment, trying to come up with something to finally stay still for what it seemed would be a long time.

She listed —helping herself with her fingers too— things that she knew already about Sharon. When she got a handful, she started to reduce the list to those she knew that drive Sharon mad. The first thing she had to do was to make the other woman comfortable before jumping on where they left it last time they saw each other.

For example, Sharon hated profusely how Natasha couldn't stop from pacing the room like a caged animal when she ran out from things to do. She couldn't stand either that her favorite hobby was both mounting and unmounting things in the apartment, with Sharon having to buy two microwaves and one hairdryer once Natasha stayed with her for a few months. The other thing was to actually help doing house chores, because after a few incidents and Sharon saying that it was okay, that she could handle it in her own, Natasha thought she could put a bit more of attention to it.

She sighed heavily, feeling her chest full of things she knew that drive Sharon mad even when they didn't talk about them. It was going to be a hard task, but she was decided to make it work. It was something she owed to Sharon, a normal life.

A normal life.

A soft chuckle got muffled against her hand before closing her eyes. It was impossible to have a 'normal' life with their profession, even more when they were being chased by federals and a few private security companies. Natasha wished to have Clint by her side, to ask him about how the fuck he managed to hide his whole family from all and maybe to have a shoulder to rely on. She trusted Steve and Sharon, but Clint was there for her always. And she missed him. She really missed him.

In the middle of the storm that was her head, someone made her come back to Earth. A quick knock in the bathroom door that made her jump in her feet and unlock the door.

Sharon was there, sleepy and puffy eyes, her —now, Natasha swallowed hard again— dark hair messier than the night before and her hand over her wounded shoulder.

"I thought you took to your heels when I fell asleep," her voice was a bit husky and she licked her lips absent minded.

“Why would I do that?” Natasha’s smirk hid her nervousness, leaning forward to kiss her nose.

“I don’t know, you always runaway in my dreams,” her hand brushed away some strands of Natasha’s hair before pulling her in a hug, taking in count not be harsh and make her own wounds worse. “I’m glad you didn’t this time.”

A soft last whisper on top her head. A warm embrace that lingered in Natasha’s body even when Sharon broke apart and passed by her to get in the shower.

...

She felt like an alien hours later, sitting by Sharon's side at her neighbor’s house. The Italian woman that had asked Sharon if she was okay the night before was making them breakfast, and Sharon didn't seem awkward by the whole situation. Natasha felt uncomfortable though, with a toddler and a young woman staring curious at her from the other side of the table.

Sharon felt familiar with the older woman around, speaking in almost perfect Italian. Another thing that Natasha found funny was the sweet coincidence. Sharon moved to Finland, to the other side of the world, just to make friends like an old Italian immigrant who married a Finnish man and now was taking care of her grand-daughter and her toddler.

However, Natasha liked how the elderly woman treat her favorite agent as if she was her grandchild too. Even though she had to muffle a giggle every time the woman callrd Sharon by 'Elisabetta'.

New identities were always fun. It was like playing a game you only knew.

And playing roles with Sharon was the best. Natasha was now Nadja Redford, proud girlfriend of Elizabeth Martinelli, which had traveled all the way to Finland because her parents kicked her out after coming out to them. Natasha let Sharon build the role for her, only talking a shade of rusty Italian when it was needed —she understands but it's a big deal to talk, Natasha was cracking up inside, knowing her Italian was way better than Sharon's. Although she was finding sexy Sharon's Brooklyn accent under all the effort she was putting into the facade.

When they were safe again behind Sharon's apartment door, Natasha finally burst into laughter after holding it up during the whole thing.

"Nadja Redford is going to be one of my favorite identities," she said, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, rubbing away the pain in her stomach due to the laughter. "You are good at coming up with ideas, but you didn't tell me a thing about yours, Miss Elizabeth Martinelli."

Sharon didn't say a thing for a few seconds, only staring at Natasha. Being with someone close to her after this long felt strange to her, but it was reassuring. It still feels unreal, even putting up all that lie to build Natasha’s persona, but with time she would find herself comfortable again. Even with Natasha talking like they were on a mission.

“Elizabeth Martinelli lost her father on a lab incident, mom tried to move on but she end up living with her Nonna, an old movie star that worked as a governmental secretary when she got too old for the scene,” Sharon let herself fall in the individual sofa, a soft smile curving her lips. “When her Nonna died, Elizabeth moved to Finland, landing a job at Stark Industries new project as a security guard. Never heard of her mom after her tenth birthday.”

“Your nonna was lit,” Natasha chuckled, walking towards her. “Stark Industries?”

“Yeah, it was. A sunshine on Earth, my grandaunt used to say,” Sharon welcomed her, feeling the burn on her stomach pulling a bit when the other woman got comfortable in her lap. “Pepper helped me, she was the only one I could contact after Berlin. We put everything together within two days, maybe, and I moved in here by the end of the week. She is the only one knowing I’m here...well, and now you too.”

“Now everything makes more sense, Tony wouldn’t let his guard down after Vanko���s fiasco. He was actually hurt by me lying and sticking my nose into his files,” another chuckle and Sharon took her hand. “I respect Pepper a lot, but she isn’t that skilled in making her files unreadable. I put some more security up after taking what I needed. We are more safe now.”

They stayed in silence for a while, only playing with their hands and Natasha kissing Sharon's knuckles from time to time. Those times when they only acted sweet towards each other were the best. But something clicked on Natasha's mind, something that needed to be ask now that she noticed. Later Sharon would ask her about how exactly she found her aside of sniffing around things that didn't concern her.

"Elizabeth's grandaunt or Sharon's grandaunt?" she mumbled, looking directly at Sharon's eyes.

"Grandaunt is the same for both," Sharon looked troubled for a second, even with a faint smile over her lips. "I'm not ready to talk about it, Natalia. I just want to know how did you find me and what do you actually want," Natasha felt out of breath with how fast everything changed in Sharon's behavior. "And I want it now. Spit it out."

Natasha fell to the floor when Sharon stood up, hitting slightly her head with the border of the couch. That was plainly rude, but she had a point. She appeared in the middle of the night, somewhere none but two persons knew about and she actually said 'yeah' when Sharon told her she knew there was a motive behind her doing all this.

When she finally stood up, Sharon was looking at her from the open plan kitchen. Her hands gripped over the counter and with nothing but her agent self showing in her eyes. She was about to joke about Sharon having her gun with her, when the other woman put her favorite one over the counter as little reminder.

"Okay, let me take a s—" Sharon raised a brow and Natasha stood still in front of her, rubbing her hand over her eyes before start talking. "After Berlin I ran away before anyone could notice. Took my laptop and a few things before sprinting towards Poland. I knew someone on Warsaw that could actually help me get some new documents, so that was my first stop. I didn't last there, two weeks later I was on my way to Belarus."

Natasha sighed heavily, scratching her scalp a bit while Sharon stayed still.

"Some agents made me recognize that having red hair wasn't really okay if you are on the run," she took a few platinum strands of her hair. "So I left too when they found me near Latvia's frontier. Saint Petersburg isn't that far from where I was, so my feet lead me home." She let out a low chuckle that made her feel her eyes start to get teary. "I met with an old friend and he kept me safe for a couple months, while I was gathering enough information about the others. I wanted to join them in Wakanda," Natasha flashed a quick smile and put her hands behind her back. "But I found you while wandering in Tony's files. And I wanted to be with you."

"Being cheesy doesn't suit you," Sharon shook her head slowly, breaking the eye contact to look at the counter.

"It's the truth, Sharon," her voice lowered more when she said the name, showing the anger that was building up on her. "Can’t you believe in me? For once?"

Okay, she hadn't need to say that. It was unnecessary, she knew it. But this game of who push the other further was tiring her after three years of playing it. However, Sharon's eyes darted again to meet Natasha's and she took away her gun to put it on a drawer.

"For once?" Her voice was showing the true anger from someone that was slowly burning inside. "I believed in you when a bunch of aliens and a Nordic god tried to kill you and you told me it was over the night after; I believed in you the night you told me what you did to my legacy, telling me you were done with this life at the moment; I believed in you when you all landed in Washington, after destroying a whole city because Stark decided to play the mad scientist; I believed in you when you told me you wanted to settle down with me after the funeral," Sharon was crying at this point and Natasha looked down at the floor. "After every time I believe in you, you run away from me. And you just asked me to believe in you for once."

"I was trying to get intel about Tony and the others in real time when I got across your file, I guess Steve pulled the old protocol to protect them all because I didn't find shit," the truth told straight away was the way Natasha had to take in order to make Sharon believe in her. "I'd turned my back on Tony to help Steve and now I'm alone like always," Natasha sighed again before daring to look at Sharon. "And I rather be alone with someone that actually likes me than simply alone," Another chuckle and it was her turn to cry. "I guess I’ll take my stuff, I shouldn’t be here if you aren’t comfortable. It seems you don’t like me either after all...”

Sharon walked around the counter to take Natasha's hands. The only thing she did was holding her hands really tight before pulling them closer to kiss her fingers. Her lips were cold when she pulled Natasha in for a kiss. Cold, salty and wet.

“I like you,” Sharon’s voice was so low that Natasha thought she didn’t say a thing. “I love Nadja, I love Natasha, I love Natalia,” she could feel the brunette’s hands going up her arms to hold her better. “I love you and I only needed you to tell me the truth,” Sharon made her look at her, placing her hands in each side of Natasha’s face. “Clyde always told Bonnie the truth, right?”

Natasha didn’t know a single fuck about what that meant for Sharon, but she nodded. She nodded and then she felt herself pushing Sharon towards the master bedroom. She felt her own hands acting with care to not touch the wounds she inflicted. Sharon was all over her senses, from muffled moans to hands that roamed around her body with knowledge.

They always made up like that. They would sort things out, loose ends to take care of when the right time arrived. Eventually, when they both find themselves comfortable around each other again to let their guard down. And that was okay to them, because they didn’t know how to fix things without landing some punches and no-meant words.

With Sharon over her, Natasha thought they would have enough time this time around. Enough time to actually address each other properly.

Enough for Natasha to feel safe.

Enough for Sharon to feel secure.

She was going to scold the taller woman about living the frat-boy life. Yeah, she was going to put some order in her life, she couldn’t live off leftovers from the old Italian woman that lived under her nor having everything as if a bomb had just exploded in the middle of the master room forever.

But first she would take care of what was going on between her legs. 

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #17 (1980)

Oh! This is the issue where we learn that the toughest motherfuckers in Estarcion are priests!

What is the statute of limitations for stealing from nuns because have I got a story for my memoir! That's as close to an anecdote as I have for a comic book cover with a priest on it. At least I think that's a Tarimite priest and I think that was an anecdote (albeit a mysterious one!). It's been awhile since I've read Cerebus and I've certainly never seen most of these covers. You know how you can tell most Christians have never read The Bible? Because they're still Christian. I swear to fucking Christ it's the most ridiculous motherfucking thing I've ever read and I've read the later Xanth novels! I don't detect any hint of animosity or marital regret in Deni's "A Note from the Publisher." That just means I didn't find anything worth discussing since I'm inherently a 7th grade gossip. Dave Sim's Swords of Cerebus essay discusses sitcom television and how important it is to keeping everybody's minds diluted to the point of inefficacy. His major point is that it's easy to watch a four hour block of sitcoms without your brain coming up with one thought of its own. Obviously that's the lure of television. But what's not so obvious to most people is that it's not the show or the writing or the sitcom that's keeping you from having your own thoughts about them (although, granted, some aren't worth any thoughts at all). It's the block of time spent sitting and watching them one after the other. If a show offers an intelligent story line commenting on the troubles of our daily lives, the viewer has not time to process what they have just seen. They simply move on to the next show dumped into their viewing trough while whatever they just watched is dumped out the back of the brain to make room for the next character slipping on a banana peel causing Mr. Roper to smile mischievously at the camera because obviously that's what a gay person would do. This way of watching television mindlessly was probably more pertinent to the last century; now we are in full control of everything we watch and have ample time to pause a show or movie and discuss important and relevant bits rather then letting them simply disappear in the flicker of afterimages. Although, we sort of live in a binge culture now and watch entire shows in one sitting so we can move on to the next one. I miss the amount of discussion to be had during the week while waiting for the next episode of Wiseguy or Twin Peaks or Three's Company. Okay, maybe not that last one. What was there to discuss about that show other than why the fuck a landlord had any say in the roommate two women choose to share their apartment with?! If you read Dave Sim's essay, right now you'd be wondering, "How the fuck did that essay cause you to write those thoughts?!" Look, a digression isn't a digression because it's pertinent to the current narrative! Lay off me!

Oh, I guess this one isn't the one with the bad-ass priest (is that even one? Who can tell anymore? My brain is Swiss porridge); it's the one with the terrible German accents.

Cerebus left Palnu with a horse and eight bags of gold. When this issue begins, it's three weeks later and he's down to just the eight bags of gold. The horse had a minor accident which left Cerebus dragging bags of gold across a landscape turned muddy from torrential rains. To get out of the rain so that this issue doesn't devolve into multiple "Gee, what stinks?!" jokes, Cerebus purchases a hovel from some peasants for four pieces of gold. That's where he's relaxing when the big dumb German guys come knocking on his door. Cerebus learns that the Germans (or T'gitans or something. I feel like they're not really ever mentioned again. Not like the Hsifans or the Pavrovians) are about to invade Palnu which piques Cerebus' interest because Lord Julius was a huge pain in the ass and it would probably be funny to see his fall from power. Or maybe Cerebus just has ADHD. The guy on the cover I thought was a priest is some guy named Commander Krull. He's grim and large and dour and he's the kind of guy I thought of as a grown man when I was a kid. I will soon be 49 and I learned years ago that I'll never think of myself as the way I used to picture grown men. That's not a bad thing! I'm just commenting on the delusions that grow within the minds of children. When I was a child, I'm sure I subconsciously categorized every grown man in my life as "Man" or "adult male." I believe there was always a bit of fear that came along with the adults whom I though of as Men. It's probably why I loved old men so much because they were somehow broken through the other side of "Man" and were back to being child-like. If you're confused by my definitions of what I thought a Man was, I'd say it would have been people like Mr. Cunningham or James Evan Sr. or Pa Ingalls or Grizzly Adams or Sgt. Carter from Gomer Pyle or Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins. Men who didn't register as "Men" were Bert from Mary Poppins (hell, just about any character Dick Van Dyke played. He was too playful to be a Man), Jack Tripper, Gene Wilder as anybody, Roddy McDowall as anybody, Lenny & Squiggy. Maybe I was just intimidated by men with broad shoulders? It's sort of sad that one of the main qualities that made a male figure in my life "manly" was if they intimidated me. And yes, for those of you who actually think about shit I just wrote that you just read, Mr. C scared the bejesus out of me.

This is the face of a man who grew up thinking, "I have to be masculine or I am nothing!"

Just to be clear: I don't give a fucking toss about masculinity. All that nonsense about what makes a man a real man is simply philosophical wanking of the most boring kind. But that doesn't mean you aren't inordinately influenced by that shit while growing up, especially when your father left at two and all of your adult male role models were on television. I may have been intimidated by Mr. C and James Evans Sr and Pa Ingalls but thank fucking Christ for them because I knew at least three adult males cared about me for a small amount of time each week! Cerebus realizes Krull, disguised as a priest, has snuck out of the town for reinforcements. Cerebus' big plan is to not let that happen! My instincts are to call him a genius even though the plan seems pretty obvious. That's probably because Cerebus is a fictional character and I can lavish praise on him without feeling jealous and petty and upset that nobody is calling me a genius. I mean, why aren't they? Have I not criticized enough comic books to be regarded as a genius? Am I misunderstanding the definition of the word?!

Cerebus uses the priest disguise against Krull. Genius!

Like when he defeated the leader of the Eye of the Pyramid in Palnu, Cerebus uses trickery instead of force to defeat Krull. I mean, both are knocked out by a rock to the head which I suppose is force but Cerebus uses tricks to get the opportunity to smash rocks into their heads. Having defeated Krull, Cerebus and the T'gitans conquer Fluroc, putting pressure on Lord Julius to raise an army quickly (since his current army is on the Onliu border which is, I suppose, super far away and stuff). I guess next issue Lord Julius and Cerebus go to war! I can't believe I don't remember this story! I mean, I remember the Krull encounter but I'd forgotten it had anything to do with Cerebus waging war against Palnu. Another excerpt of Michael Loubert's "The Aardvarkian Age" appears this issue. It's as dry as reading an Associated Press rendition of a historical event. I'm not sure why I thought these things would be entertaining when I got to them. Cerebus is funny; why isn't the history of the world of Estarcion?! Aardvark Comment isn't interesting yet. It's still people praising this little rinky-dink comic book operation for surviving over a year. I can't wait until Dave starts pissing off fans and then arguing with them! Cerebus #17 Rating: B. This story seemed incomplete. Probably because it's just the first part! But also it seemed anti-climactic or a hodge-podge of semi-related scenes. It was like a sketch show! It had some pretty solid jokes but overall I just kind of felt like I'd have been better off spending the time eating a box of Oreos.

[thirstinmore-blog]

Best Albums of 2018

BEST ALBUMS 2018

20. Noname: Room 25

19. Jeremih & Ty Dolla $ign: Mih-Ty

18. Tierra Whack: Whack World

17. Parks Burton: Pare

16. Oneohtrix Point Never: Age Of

15. Angelique Kidjo: Remain in Light

14. Shannon Shaw: Shannon in Nashville

13. Curren$y & Freddie Gibbs: Fetti

12. Ariana Grande: Sweetener

11. Vince Staples: FM!

10. DJ Koze: Knock Knock

9. Mariah Carey: Caution

8. Courtney Barnett: Tell Me How You Really Feel

7. The Carters: Everything is Love

6. Snail Mail: Lush

5. Shannon & the Clams: Onion

4. Teyana Taylor: K.T.S.E.

3. Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour

2. Blood Orange: Negro Swan

1. Dirty Projectors: Lamp Lit Prose

(Spotify playlist)

(Capsule reviews of Top 10 below) 

10. DJ Koze: Knock Knock.  The music writing trope of “a sounds like b + c” is as lazy as it is played, but sometimes you hear a record and those type of comparisons spring to mind, like when I first heard Saint Pepsi’s Hit Vibes and instantly thought of J Dilla making a disco record.  That was also my response to Knock Knock, which sounds like the Avalanches making a more patient update of Since I Left You for 2018 ears.  The record is long and lush, and draws from roughly nine billion different aesthetics, but its particular mélange still manages to sound fresh.  As with SILY, the album is best experienced as a complete piece of music (though several tracks, such as “Lord Knows” and “Scratch That” would sound great in a mix or DJ set).  Knock Knock takes the listener through ambling pathways that wrap around and revisit each other, like an evening stroll through the spacious Joshua Tree National Park depicted on its cover.  It’s nearly a two-hour journey, but it’s well worth the price of admission.

9. Mariah Carey: Caution.  Mariah got a dirty mouth and I’m here for it.  As mother, a twice-divorcée, a woman nearing 50, her work and her image are all her own; if she wants to include the word “fuck” in a bunch of songs on her new album (“GTFO,” “With You,” “The Distance”), then who the fuck are we to tell her no?   It’s a refreshing twist from someone whose public persona is often so curated, but I’m burying the lede.  The real story here is that Caution is a batch of excellent R&B songs from one of the genre’s all-time greats.  It’s not overwrought – by contrast, the album’s sultry blue cover art is indicative of the moods within.  The Ty Dolla $ign-featuring “The Distance” is laid extremely deep in the cut, assisted by some subtle production from Poo Bear, Lido and—holy shit, Skrillex?  Yup, and like Mariah herself, everyone involved uses an even hand and measured patience to let each song breathe.  

A personal highlight for me is “A No No,” which flips the Lil Kim/Lil Cease classic “Crush On You” on its head.  Here, where Biggie intones “he’s a slut, he’s a hoe, he’s a freak/got a different girl every day of the week,” there is no irony intended.  She gauges her suitors’ intent and responds simply: “that’s a no-no.”  In fact, the word “no” accounts for easily half the song’s lyrics, but it’s still a blast on subsequent listens.  But don’t get it twisted – highlights abound herein, from aforementioned singles “GTFO” and “The Distance” to the thoughtful, expansive, Dev Hynes-helmed “Giving Me Life,” which begins as a downtempo club hit and morphs into a surrealist dream.  Mariah Carey is one of the artists who’s been in my life the longest – I’m so happy she’s still killing it.

8. Courtney Barnett: Tell Me How You Really Feel.  Courtney Barnett is what I was raised to believe an indie rock star should be: an unassuming, smart slacker with regular clothes and the ability to unleash earthbound poetry and atmosphere-puncturing solos with equal aplomb.  That effortless cool permeates every facet of her work, from her casual half-singing style to her loose but proficient playing, a mighty guitar god in the body of a humble 31-year-old.  (That she recorded a collaborative record with renowned cool guy Kurt Vile should surprise no-one.)  But what’s really striking about Barnett’s work is her wryly observant lyrics; whether she’s describing the banalities of urban life (“City Looks Pretty”) or eviscerating toxic masculinity (“Nameless, Faceless”), her keen eye and incisive wit pervade every line.  Tell Me is the sound of a strong artist getting stronger.

7. The Carters: Everything is Love.  I often say that as I get older, my favorite elements of songwriting are editing and restraint.  That’s why I tend to hate double albums and love EPs.  I just believe that most double albums would be better if distilled down to one really strong record.  EPs, on the other hand, leave the listener wanting more.  Such is the case with Everything is Love, which reads like a Beyonce trap record with a number of guest verses from Jay. Regardless of speculation on who did the lion’s share of the writing on the record, both are in top form.  Bey’s signature vocal virtuosity is on display as ever, but the real delight is in her capable delivery as a rapper.  She glides effortlessly through triplets like “Poppin, I’m poppin, my bitches are poppin, we go to the dealer and cop it all.”  Big Sean could never.  Meanwhile, Jay turns in a few of my favorite bars of the year (and also a very slick Drake diss) on “Boss:”

“You not a boss, you got a boss. N*ggas gettin’ jerked, that shit hurts, I take it personaly.  N*ggas’d rather work for the man than to work for me.  Just so they can pretend they on my level, that shit is irkin’ to me.  Pride always goeth before the fall, almost certainly.  It’s disturbing what I gross.  Survey says: you not even close.  Everybody’s bosses till the time to pay for the office, till them invoices separate the men from the boys. Over here we measure success by how many people successful next to you.  Here, we say you broke if everybody is broke except for you. BAWSE.”

I don’t know if they intend to release more records as The Carters, but Everything is Love is a fun, successful experiment.

6. Snail Mail: Lush.  There’s no reason for a debut LP to be this good.  The record, from solo project-turnt-band of 19-year-old Lindsay Jordan is focused, clever, and sophisticated.  Every component of these songs appears exactly as it should.  Jordan’s songwriting is clean and incisive (“I hope whoever it is holds their breath around you/’cause I know I did,” she sings on album standout “Heat Wave”).  The arrangements are smartly simple; seldom do they deviate from the four-person rock lineup, so the embellishments that are included (the French horn on “Deep Sea,” the layered keys on “Speaking Terms”) really leap out.  The playing throughout is lovely, with Jordan’s beautiful guitar technique front and center (the finger-picking on “Let’s Find an Out” is a particular delight). Everything in its right place – only where Radiohead’s inward gaze can be mopey and self-indulgent, the core strength of Lush is its efficiency.  There’s no filler here – just the exact amount of support that each piece requires.  The drumming feels especially strong in this regard – there’s an economic directness in Ray Brown’s playing that prioritizes the backbeat over everything, including his ego. The fills that he does include are modest and workmanlike.

It’s right that the record would be released by Matador, because these songs are drenched in the influences of the 90s slacker rock of Yo La Tengo, Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney and Sebadoh.  And as with each of those bands, Snail Mail’s songs are buoyed by excellent lyrics.  Jordan doesn’t just sound wise beyond her years, she actually seems to have lived more in her 19 years than many folks twice her age.  There’s a subtext of sobriety in some of the songs (“It just feels like the same party every weekend, doesn’t it?” on “Pristine,” or “I’m so tired of moving on/spending every weekend so far gone” on “Heat Wave”).  Perhaps the self-reflection that’s required in recovery has helped to distill her worldview.  

And look, I don’t mean to be patronizing here – this album would be a major achievement from any person of any age.  But to hear an artistic vision this crystal clear and laser-focused from a 19-year-old is something truly special.  I can’t wait to hear what she does next.

5. Shannon & the Clams: Onion.  Upon first listen, Onion struck me as the best record the Clams have released to date.  Now, admittedly, I’m a sucker for keyboards, and the inclusion of organist Will Sprott is pure Patrick-bait.  But beyond my own tastes, the organ both fills out and anchors the Clams’ garage doo-wop sound.  There’s a welcome succinctness to Onion: the songwriting is tight, the guitar playing is melodic and utilitarian, and the vocal performances from both Cody and Shannon are more technically refined than in any of their previous outings.  One wonders if Shannon’s work on her own solo album (the very good, Dan Auerbach-produced Shannon in Nashville, which also came out this year) pushed her to improve her technique.  And don’t get it fucked up – this is still a Clams record.  It’s still shaggy and loud and rambunctious – but they’ve worked hard to reign in their wildest tendencies.  Some might say that it’s layered, just like-- *an oversized cane hooks around my throat and drags me offstage* ….Well…..let’s just say it’s good.

4. Teyana Taylor: KTSE.  Of all the seven-song mini-albums Kanye produced in Wyoming this year, KTSE is both the best and the least talked-about.  She arrives seemingly out of the blue, a fully-formed artist who knows her strengths exactly.  She has bars when she feels like spitting them, a beautiful husky alto when she feels like crooning, and a profound connection to multiple styles of club music that’s borne of her history as a dancer.  It’s become a bit trendy to nod to vogue & ballroom culture in the last few years, but while Drake’s Big Freedia feature on “Nice for What” feels a little forced, Taylor can walk it like she talks it.  A dancer by trade, her comfort in the ballroom is palpable. 

Ye keeps it simple, remaining comfortably in his wheelhouse and flipping excellent soul samples such as Billy Stewart’s “I Do Love You” (which he repurposes into a nostalgic 4/4 slapper on “Hold On”) and The Stylistics’ “Because I Love You, Girl” (which he expands into a melancholy mediation on the horn section of the original).  It’s a welcome return to form.

3. Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour.  In her SNL performance earlier this year, Kacey Musgraves appeared as a flat-ironed, longhair disco queen.  As she slayed Golden Hour’s catchy lead single “High Horse,” I was reminded of Dolly Parton.  I’ve been spending a lot of time with Dolly’s mid-70s and early-80s catalogue this past year, having purchased vinyl copies of All I Can Do, New Harvest…First Gathering, and Dolly, Dolly, Dolly.  Parton is one of those artists whose discographies are so gigantic as to seem practically impenetrable, so I’ve been trying to hear as much as I can.  Dolly, Dolly, Dolly is an especially interesting entry: released in 1980, it was her 23rd album, and it represents a pretty clear swing for crossover success.  A handful of the tracks are straight-up disco, and these are what Musgraves called to mind.  I was thrilled – Dolly’s disco experiments were widely panned, but I think there’s a lot of good there, maybe Golden Hour would be an attempt to vindicate Parton’s vision?

Unfortunately or not, I was incorrect.  In total, Golden Hour bears more resemblance to Dolly’s friend & frequent collaborator Emmylou Harris (Kacey’s hair should’ve tipped me off, SMH).  It’s a beautiful, understated, and thoughtful set of songs that could fit as well on a folk radio station as a country one.  Like Harris, Musgraves has an innate sense of how to let a great song be great, hanging back in both arrangement and vocal performance.  She’s emotive when she needs to be (“Rainbow”), and contemplative as needed (“Golden Hour”), always letting her writing breathe.  Also, she has the confidence to bury the lead single so deep on Side B that you almost forget it’s there (and are thrilled when it is).  As a person who prefers the full album experience to that of a shuffled playlist, this is one of my very favorite tricks.

Quite simply: great songs + great arrangements = a surprising list-topper for me.

2. Blood Orange: Negro Swan.  For years, the roles of sexuality and gender in black identity have been foci of Dev Hynes’ work as Blood Orange.  He spent time with drag queens and sex workers while writing his debut album Coastal Grooves, and has often cited transgender icon Octavia St. Laurent as one of his primary influences.  But while these interests have colored his previous albums, on Negro Swan they’re the bedrock.  In a press release preceding the album, Hynes described the album as “an exploration into my own and many types of black depression, an honest look at the corners of black existence, and the ongoing anxieties of queer/people of color.  A reach back into childhood and modern traumas, and the things we do to get through it all.  The underlying thread through each piece on the album is the idea of hope, and the lights we can try to turn on within ourselves with a hopefully positive outcome of helping others out of their darkness.”

These ideas are fundamental to the songwriting, and they’re reinforced by snippets of conversations with Janet Mock and Kai the Black Angel (who adorns the cover in a durag and angel wings) peppered throughout the album’s 49 minutes.  On “Family,” Mock defines community as “the spaces where you don’t have to shrink yourself, where you don’t have to pretend or to perform, you can fully show up and be vulnerable in silence, completely empty, and that’s completely enough.”  That search for community, the desire to be seen and loved and supported as your whole self informs each of these beautiful songs.  Already a competent producer, Hynes continues to grow, selecting beautiful flourishes like the jangly, perfectly out-of-tune guitar on “Charcoal Baby” or the soft, echoing snare drum on “Dagenham Dream” to characterize the thematic content of each piece.  Negro Swan is a powerful and complete work of art.  It sounds like he’s finally found some answers to the questions he’s been asking. 

1. Dirty Projectors: Lamp Lit Prose.  On Lamp Lit Prose, David Longstreth appears to be having more fun making music than he has in years, probably because almost 100% of his band has turned over (kudos to longtime bassist Nat Baldwin, whose playing tethers him to his own beginnings).  Beyond the new Projectors themselves, Longstreth spent the months during the writing of the album making new friends in the LA music scene, and bringing them around the studio to record various parts.  Members of Haim contribute to album standout “That’s a Lifestyle,” Syd (of The Internet) anchors the refrain in “Right Now,” and Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold and Vampire Weekend alumnus Rostam Batmanglij stack harmonies onto the swirling ballad “You’re The One.”

I see LLP as the second half of a diptych begun by the self-titled Dirty Projectors, released last year.  While that record wallowed in the pain of a broken relationship with former Projector Amber Coffman, LLP reveals a healed and newly in love protagonist.  Both records feature David Longstreth at his most vocally competent: he’s now able to truly execute the melismatic R&B runs he lovingly wrote and charmingly attempted in his earliest work, his diaphragm now supports his every leap and bound, and his croon is sweeter than ever before.  But furthermore, both albums expand on ideas that have popped up throughout his illustrious and impressive body of work.  Whether he’s reviving the Rise Above era blasts of noisy guitars on “Zombie Conqueror” or revisiting the orchestral ambitions of The Getty Address on the stunningly soulful “I Wanna Feel It All,” Longstreth sounds like a worker with a complete toolbox and a detailed blueprint.  He’s been working at honing his craft for years.

I saw the Projectors in June, at a time when only “Break-Thru” and “That’s a Lifestyle” had leaked.  I didn’t know what to expect, being among the seemingly small minority of fans who liked their previous record.  But their set was staggering.  Flanked by his group of mostly-new faces, Longstreth was bouncing all over the place, proudly showcasing each instrumentalist & vocalist (seemingly everyone had at least one moment in the spotlight), visibly excited about playing with this group of people.  And that makes sense: LLP is Longstreth relishing the fundamental glee of musical collaboration.  The joy is positively bubbling over in tracks like “Right Now,” “I Feel Energy,” and “I Found it in You.”  To see him play these songs live is to wonder if he’s talking about the act of musicmaking itself when he sings: “Ask now, I’m in love for the first time ever.”

[ninjagoat]

Note on Supergirl 4x02

This week, on the Metaphor For Xenophobia And Racism For White People:

- We return to the themes of episode 3x05, specifically how unfair it is when very, very powerful people have to face consequences for their actions.

- Seriously, it is so TOTALLY unfair how Olivia Marsdin has to resign just because she *checks notes* committed a massive criminal conspiracy to illegally win a presidential election.

- ON TOP OF THIS, it's also a mindshatteringly bad take on the Obama birther conspiracy. The birther story was not racist because it was "unfair" that people from Kenya couldn't be President. The birther story was racist because it assumed that President Obama's election HAD to be the result of a massive criminal conspiracy and not a genuine win MERELY BECAUSE HE WAS BLACK.

- Kara thinks Olivia can say something to get out of this; becasue Kara, being a seasoned journalist that now mentors other journalists, has no idea how laws work. Olivia schools her, which is noble; but it's still skating around the fact that she INTENTIONALLY BROKE THE LAW.

- All of that being said, I've always liked Ms. Carter's performance as Olivia. She's folksy, but tough. If she'd been an alien that had been born on Earth, I'd be fighting for her to stay as well.

- "Ugly is as ugly does; that makes you the ugly one!" This protest scene was written by fucking MILHOUSE.

- And then a fight break out. Because as we all know, security and crowd control are pretty lax on *checks notes* PENNYSYLVANIA AVENUE.

- The DEO interview process is clearly lacking something, because Agent White Dude has some serious prejudices that aren't suitable for the job; and the dude he's arguing with has Kara's level of understanding of the Constitution. Where's Pam when you need her?

- James - having spent the last two years publishing his onw love-letters to a local superhero, who is also himself - suddenly has a big stick up his arse about objectivity in news reporting.

- I maintain that the guy playing Otis is doing Ned Beatty but *serious*, and for that, he has my gratitude.

- I'm sorry? The DEO poisoned the atmosphere with lead? THE DEO? Not Lena Luthor, executing a plan from Lillian Luthor, using an original design by Lex Luthor; in the full knowledge it would likely murder her very recently betrothed and probably really upset her best friend? THAT'S WHAT WE'RE GOING WITH? (I realise this is just exposition, but it's pretty bad) At least Otis recognises the inherent viciousness of the plan, becuase no-one else has ever mentioned it.

- I would like to note that this is probably the most credit Winn has ever gotten from someone from his own time.

- Apparently, you can just... *buy* black-market Kryptonite? Arguably, the most powerful substances on Earth? The one that's so rare the show tied itself in knots justifying Lena's personally developed synthesis cache of it? ...kay.

- Lena's been working through meal-times. This is usually your five epsiode warning to evacuate the city.

- "Sales for the image inducers have been skyrocketing since the revelation that the President is an alien." This does not actually explain anything, because: a) it's not like Lena builds them herself; that'll be outsourced to China, at a location with safety netting around the roof to stop the workers killing themselves; and b) IT WAS YESTERDAY. WE KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING YESTERDAY. IT WAS THE PREVIOUS EPISODE.

- I get the sense that I'm going to spend time this season complaining about time-scales.

- At least they're keeping Lena's libetarianism consistent. Let's credit them with that. And of course, she's not immediately concerned with the potential collapse of democracy because MONEY.

- I will never cease to be confounded about the complete lack of coffee in the Catco building. I work for a relatively small company, and we have a Starbucks in our canteen.

- Weirder still is how increasingly hard it is to find. We've gone from Noonan's, to a little cart, and now to a *pizza place*. How hard is to find an *actual* coffee place?

- And now it's another Lena Sob Story; because this episode isn't just about the ideological battle between hope and fear, it's also a Lena vs. The World story - not so much an actual story, as a plot mechanism that will result in Lena stating where her character's at right now. It's completely incongruent with the rest of the episode, but never mind.

- Anyway, Mercy was like a big sister to her, but then Mercy and Lex broke up, and Lena never called her. Lena blames Lex for the break-up, but Mercy for the abandonment. So far, typical Lena. Oh, and they agree on some really fucked-up shit.

- "Why can't humans be as powerful as aliens?" Lena is, I'm guessing from this, planning to make metahumans on purpose. I'm certain Lena has read Mary Shelly; but, like many nerds, has completely missed the point.

- Why is Brainy on the L-Corp image inducer network? He built it himself, and did it two episodes before Lena even met him. Did he give her the design? Why is it networked anyway? Why is the hack affecting Brainy first? What is this plan?

- It doesn't fucking matter; this whole thing is so Brainy can be victim to a hate crime as part of the Metaphor For Xenophobia And Racism For White People, and then Nia can step in to help Solve Racism.

- I'm not going to claim to be an expert on women, but I'm pretty sure encouraging total strangers to investigate their personal information is... rare.

- "I'm putting a lockdown on the cloud so no-one can access the system through a computer." This is not how cloud computing works.

- It's at this point we stop the narrative so Nia can explain to one of the most powerful and influential black men that's ever lived that he does, in fact, have a lot of power and influence to make social change. She's Solving Racism!

- "You have another chance to fight for justice now," she says. Back when I was posting on the AV Club forums during season 2, the fact that James DIDN'T KNOW HE COULD DO THIS IN HIS JOB was one of the reasons we were so fucking tired of him already. He's not improved since then.

- We are back on the 'mirror' analogy that first appeared in 3x15, and it's actually quite good. I am, however, reminded of the image of Lena looking at herself in fractured glass at the start of 3x17. Lena's image of who she is has been broken, and cannot simply be repaired.

- I digress. James is worried if he does an editorial, he will seem biased. *sigh* Okay, this is gonna get ranty. Deep breaths, everyone...

- YOU ARE JIMMY OLSEN, SUPERMAN'S PAL. AN ALIEN SAVED YOUR LIFE. AN ALIEN MADE YOUR ENTIRE CAREER. AN ALIEN GAVE YOU A SIGNAL WATCH SO HE COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE SEVERAL MORE TIMES. YOU BECAME SUCH GOOD FRIENDS WITH AN ALIEN YOUR GIRLFRIEND JOKED HE WAS YOUR BOYFRIEND. YOU DEVOTED SO MUCH TIME TO ALIENS YOUR GIRLFRIEND BROKE UP WITH YOU. *TWICE*. MANY OF YOUR CURRENT FRIENDS ARE ALIENS. YOUR BEST HUMAN FRIEND - who is 'currently' busy cleaning up the mess made by one of your alien friends, helping another one of your alien friends - BRIEFLY FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ALIEN, WHO YOU HUNG OUT WITH. YOU GO TO AN ALIEN BAR SO MUCH YOU'VE FUCKING GENTRIFIED IT.    THE SHIP HAS SAILED ON YOU BEING PRO-ALIEN, JIMMY. STOP BEING A MASSIVE WANKER.

- Apparently, the only way to access the Image Inducer network is through the L-Corp mainframe, which is: a) definitely not how cloud-computing works; and b) contradicted by the fact the image inducers are STILL WORKING.

- Mercy designed all of L-Corp's security. Even though they only moved to National City two years ago. Right.

- "This is more innovative and imaginative than even I expected." IT'S AN OFFICE BUILDING WITH BUILT-IN SKYPE. Real imagination would have been REPLACING THE FUCKING SECURITY SYSTEM.

- Why does EVERYTHING have to turn into the Glorification of Lena Luthor?

- Miss Teschmacher getting the doors to close through quick thinking has easily made her the most likeable character on the whole damn show.

- "Reporter's Honour." Okay, Kara; firstly, it's called 'off the record', and the fact that Lena doesn't really feel worried about getting that status from you is pretty much why being such close friends with her is *completely unprofessional*.

- Lena built the Lexosuit. Huh.

- ...

- What?

- She built a suit... described as an "exquisite intrument of death"... with the potential for fighting Superman... as a hobby project? Is that what happened? Or are we just going to gloss over it, like- oh, okay, we are doing that.

- "It's about doing good for the world and clearing the Luthor name." You can't clear the Luthor name, sweetie. They actually did those things. And as far as doing good for the world: that's not a plan; that a GOAL. You really need to give details. Maybe a real journalist can ask you sometime.

- "He told me they were cute and I should make them in pink." One line of dialogue, and the potentially interesting Lena/Lex dynamic has been reduced to the most boring thing imaginable. FFS.

- "I know I'm the best." Oligarch, *please*. I guess it helps that Winn's in another century.

- "You've chosen a side. I'd never do that." WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? Please, someone explain.

- No one tell Mercy about that time Lena purposefully overdosed her oldest friend with Kryptonite.

- "The Luthor name doesn't deserve Lena." Why the fuck not, Supergirl? Kryptonite, Lexosuit, thinks you're full of shit; what exactly is the big thing here that separates her from them?

- Also, have you just... *forgotten* about the Kryptonite thing, or...?

- The sheer petty-minded simplicity of the wood-chips in the cup is lending weight to my 'written by Milhouse' theory.

- Huzzah! James has decided to stop being a massive wanker for a bit!

- "It is our duty as journalists to expose the truth." For long-time readers of these posts, THIS SHOW IS TROLLING ME.

- Brainy and Alex get a nice scene as part of the Metaphor For Xenophobia And Racism For White People, but I'm just left wishing we could have had more scenes like this between her and Winn. Where was *nice* Big Sister Alex when he was here?

- Supergirl's speech is lovingly earnest, and *totally unengaged* with any actual issue beyond being nice to each other, and certainly not the one where Olivia INTENTIONALLY BROKE THE LAW. This was a total failure of our institutions, not least of which, THE PRESS, for not vetting her thoroughly enough. The potential for whataboutery is high.

- Okay, for some reason, I thought they'd cast Brent Spiner in this role, not Bruce Boxleitner. Anyway, this casting is a nice bit of nerd symmetry; and makes it almost certain that President Baker is going to be revealed as a wrong'un.

- I've not talked about J'onn much, mainly because he's spent most of the episode walking around aimlessly before he can show up at the Sons of Liberty meeting.

- Agent Liberty has been described in press releases as being almost supernaturally persuasive. The actual execution of this idea is... he's actually engaged with the issue. That's it. The government *was* taken over by aliens. National City *was* attacked by aliens. The press - and I know I did a big rant in favour of this above - *is* pro-alien; and these people know it, regardless of how unbiased James was hoping to appear. It's messy, and Supergirl talking about hope is not going to cut it. It's not going to get these people jobs. It's not going to stop their nightmares.    I've seen people compare how he speaks with Trump. This - this scene, at least -  is not Trump. Trump isn't engaged with the issues. Trump is the end result of forty years of this shit, long after the tribal boundaries have been set in place. It's never even really mattered what Trump says. They like Trump, because Trump is *their* guy. The definitions of 'Us' and 'Them' have been around since at least the 90s, if not earlier; and Trump just made himself more 'Us' than anyone else did.    And Agent Liberty is not doing that. There's an attempt, but the mask keeps him separate from his audience. Mostly, he's just recirculating the fears that they already have - that they have a *right* to have - and then pushing them towards his terrible conclusions.      This isn't magic. This is basic oratory. This is the big challenge our heroes face.

- Our heroes are *so screwed*.

[thelittlestspider]

B r e a k m e with ummm Tiffany

break me: write an angsty drabble. 

*rubs my evil little hands together* angst you say?

okay so this is based after Paper Heart, so this is kind of spoilery. it’s also not complete, because i kind of want it to be longer and the little bit here i banged out on my keyboard just now.

i’m also going to tag the others bc i’m kind of proud that i managed to accomplish something in so little time

@plaguecraft, @thewritingpossum, @nicholewrites. 

tentative title: accidents of affliction

warning(s): liberal use of the word ‘fuck’. lots of tears. 

Tiffany hates crying. Hates it more than anything. There’s something about the way her face grows hot, and the way the tears make her face blotchy and her eyes feel swollen and crusted; she avoids crying by any means possible. Which is why she hates it all the more that she has cried so much since carter left.

That fucking man, thinks tiffany, angrily wiping away her tears with her sleeve. Nina sits next to her on the sofa looking despondent, and tiffany feels bad for crying in front of her, for showing this grief to her when she misses him too.

“tiffany, it’s okay to be upset,” says Nina, as if reading her thoughts. “i mean you and violet were with him for years. It’s natural to grieve that.”

“but he was your best friend,” tiffany points out. “it sounds dumb but I, i feel bad crying in front of you when you lost him, too.” she knows that nina would never hold such a rare display of vulnerability against her, it’s just. After what happened she still feels so fucking raw, like she’s been burned and the skin is healing. She hates him for it a little. Tiffany reaches for nina’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She rubs her thumb back and forth over nina’s knuckles.

Nina brings their clasped hands to her lips, laying a kiss on them.

“don’t feel bad for crying, okay?” says nina. “i chose you. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. Always. Because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I love you.” nina lifts her free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind tiffany’s ear, and she loses it again, crying into nina’s sweater as she wraps her arms around her, comforted by the smell of her shampoo and her sweater against her cheek.

“i love you so much.” it’s important for nina to know, because she loves her so fucking much and there isn’t much she wouldn’t do for this woman.

Nina strokes her back, rocking them back and forth.

.

Yvonne schedules her for the morning shift at the diner. Normally, she would be happy at the prospect of an early day but she just lays there in bed between Nina and Violet, staring blankly up at the ceiling, eyes swimming in a sea of glow in the dark stars. Where did it all go wrong? She wonders, blinking. Why couldn’t I stop them? Tiffany tried so hard to stop violet and carter from breaking what they spent years building; she wishes they had sat down and talked even once about everything that happened, about the gravity of the history between them and the toll it was taking on them. If only she had gotten them to talk about it sooner, maybe the wound wouldn’t have festered like it did.

Maybe carter would still be here. Tiffany gets out of bed and finds her clothes. She brushes her hair and teeth mechanically, throwing her hair up in a pony tail. Her nametag hangs from her shirt collar. Tiffany grabs her purse off the floor, taking one last look at her sleeping girlfriends before she has to leave for work. They look peaceful, faces smoothed out in sleep, chests falling up and down with their breath.

“sweet dreams,” whispers tiffany. She pulls her shoes on, tiptoes to the door, and closes it behind her.

.

Her shift passes by in a blur. The smile she puts on for customers is even more pasted on than usual, and she almost snaps at a few of them. Yvonne pulls her aside later with a concerned look on her face, asking her how she’s doing.

Tiffany sighs. “not great. I’ve been trying to call him, but he isn’t answering. I don’t know if he just doesn’t want to talk to me or if there’s something wrong. I just want to clear things up between us.”

“that boy was head over heels for you and violet. If he’s got any sense, he’ll come around.” Yvonne playfully slaps her arm. “Now get back out there and quit scaring my customers. You’re driving away business.”

“Okay, okay,” laughs tiffany, despite herself. Her smiles come a little easier after that.

[paintedface]

King of Anything (2/2)

Prompt: Part 2 of 2 for @nataliarxmanxva ‘s season writing challenge! ‘Are you…wearing a suit? At the beach?’

Summary: You’ve avoided going to New York because you don’t want to run into your old best friend, Carter Baizen, but a supposedly relaxed day at the beach proves that you can’t run from your past.

Pairing: Carter Baizen x Reader

Word Count: 3009 words

Notes: Y/N/N means your nickname, you choose what it’ll be!

Part 1 

Previously: 

You take a deep breath, ignoring Nicole’s confused look at you.

“Carter?”

The man pauses his talking suddenly, and turns around, showing Carter Baizen’s face to you for the first time in years.

His brows crinkle in confusion, before giving you a charming smile.  It's too fake, too smooth, as if he uses it all the time.

"That's my name, sweetheart. Do I know you? I'm sure I'd remember a sexy girl like you." He says with a smirk, and your fists clench by your side, heart racing. He doesn't fucking remember you, even after being friends for years, and you remembering him. Seriously, how arrogant did he get? And 'sexy girl?' What the hell?!

"You know fucking what? I'll leave you to figure that out yourself, Carter." You grind out, knowing that you can at least try to make your voice intimidating, even if you in your pretty good looking swimsuit won't help your cause.

You brush past him in fury, moving towards the restaurants in the shore, so you don't look stupid stepping one metre back to Nicole. Who, is watching in surprise, and is sipping at her lemonade like it's a movie she's watching.

"Wait!" Carter grabs your wrist suddenly and you whip around, glaring at him.

He's searching your face intently, before realisation flashes over his eyes, gripping your wrist tighter.

"Y/N?" He breathes in shock, taking a step towards you. Before you can respond, he takes your other hand, his mouth parting slightly. "Y/N, oh my god..." 

Butterflies set flight in your abdomen, and you try to push them down, though more and more of them give you a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"I'm glad to see you slightly remember me, at least." You mutter, and his face falls, and it's hard not to feel guilty about being the cause to that.

"L-look, I can explain..." He begins, but you cut him off, wrenching your hands out of his grip.

"No, you don't get to explain, Carter Baizen. You're wearing a suit at a fucking beach, you have that cocky smirk on your face whenever you're not talking to anybody, and you didn't even recognise your childhood friend when you first saw them. Not to mention calling me a 'sexy girl?' Do you try to hit on every girl you see?" You're seething by now, wanting to punch him in his beautiful face. "I can tell how much you've changed, just from a few words. You left me, you didn't keep in contact and you didn't say anything at all."

It's embarrassing how you're blinking back tears, and you can see his mouth twist into something reminiscent of the old times at the sight of your watery eyes.

"Doll, please, just give me a chance." He begs, his friends giving him strange looks as he makes to take your hands again.

You want to give in, but you can't forgive him that easily for years of him being gone. So you take a step back, looking away from him and his designer outfit.

"Carter, I can't. You know what you did. One text, was all it took. One fucking text, Carr." You whisper, and you ignore the clenching of your heart.

He looks away, ashamed, and you can't help but notice his hands shaking a little. "I messed up, I know I did. But please, can I please make it up to you? At least let me be a good friend and keep in contact with you from now on."

You sigh heavily, before grabbing your phone from your shawl's pocket after a moment. "Fine, but I can't guarantee that I'll answer you." That was an obvious lie, you wouldn't be able to resist replying to him.

You let him input his number into your phone, the tips of your fingers brushing when you exchange the phones, sending shivers up your veins, travelling to your chest. You put your number into his contacts, surprised that he only has a few contacts, most of them male. You'd have expected a lot more female contacts, judging from his reputation. You can't help but put in your nickname that he used to call you, as well as a heart next to it. You know you're going to regret it, but you've clicked save before you know it. You hand him back his sleek new phone, and you take yours from him.

If your heart skips a beat when his whole face lights up when he reads your contact, nobody else needs to know.

"I'll see you later, Mr. Baizen." You say quietly before he can say anything, turning and walking away. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he bites his lip harshly and looks down at the ground at 'Mr. Baizen.'

Stepping out of the shower, your eyes flick to the notification on your phone, sitting on the sink top. After you came back from the restaurants on the shore, Carter's gone, and Nicole's ready to grill you about everything that just happened. You spent the rest of the day, mostly carefree, but with that lingering thought of your old best friend still present at the back of your mind.

Grabbing some fluffy towels from the heated rack, you wrap them around yourself, basking in the afterglow of your pampered shower.

You take your phone up, before heading back into the bedroom, expecting it to just be an Instagram notification. But you can't help a smile spread across your face as you read the message, and the contact name.

Carr B 💙

The blue heart made you wipe your eyes hurriedly, in a reference to when he got you a pastel blue plush heart when you were dumped by your boyfriend in Year 10, before Carter left. You brought it with you to New York, it's sitting on the crisp white bedsheets of your hotel bed. You pick it up, squeezing it close as you get ready to reply to him.

Carr B 💙:

Hey Y/N/N

You:

Hi Carter

Carr B 💙:

Can we please meet up? I need to see you

You pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: 

Okay, when?

The response is almost immediate

Carr B 💙:

Now?

Your eyes widen, and you quickly start getting changed into your lounging clothes.

You:

Uh, sure, can you come to my hotel?

Carr B 💙:

Of course, where're you staying?

You:

Highland York Hotel, Suite 906

Carr B 💙:

I'll be right over

You get up from your bed, sticking your head through the interconnecting door between you and Nicole's room.

"NIC, DON'T COME INTO MY ROOM, CARTER'S COMING."

The response is Nic making kissy noises and "ooooh, somebody's gonna get..."

You slam the door before you can hear something you'll regret hearing, and calling reception to tell them that you have a visitor coming.

A soft knock sounds through the room and you nervously get up, heading towards the door.

After a moment of hesitation, you open the door, and feel heat creeping up to your cheeks, without your permission. Carter's wearing more casual jeans, though they still must be designer, as well as a shirt with rolled up cuffs and his hair not styled, just ruffled a little and looking soft and wavy. He looks so much more beautiful better when he's laid back, you think to yourself. And thank god he didn't bring any elaborate gifts, that would've put you off instantly.

"Hey." Carter says softly, stepping into the room.

"Hi." You reply tentatively, closing the door behind him and leading him into the main room.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, and it's not long before he notices the blue heart. He picks it up slowly, turning it over in his hands.

“You still have this?” Carter whispers, staring up at you.

You shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, before leaning back against the marble desk. “Yeah, I do.”

You clench the edge of the desk, looking away from him.

“God, I really messed up, didn’t I?” You look back to him, and you’re horrified to see tears running down his fucking perfect cheekbones. He doesn’t bother to wipe his eyes, just letting them pool at the edges of his crystal clear eyes, his lip trembling.

“I messed up everything, and I-I’m so sorry for how I greeted you this morning, I was horrible.” He chokes out, hands gripping his knees so tightly that it must hurt.

You can’t stop yourself from moving towards him and pulling him into a close hug. He lets out a soft sob that makes your heart shatter into pieces, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, clinging onto you. You let out a shaky breath that you didn’t realise you were holding in. It’s been so long since you’ve hugged him like this, and you’ve forgotten how comforting it is. And how it makes heat settle in your lower abdomen at such close contact with him.

“Hey, hey, calm down Carter.” You tell him kindly as he sniffles. You wipe away his tears with your thumb, smoothing the water into his soft skin.

“I’ve missed you so much, Y/N, you can’t believe, when I saw you this morning... I was hoping that it was you because... you looked the same, but it’s been so long that surely, surely you couldn’t be real, surely I was just imagining things and...” He cuts himself off, hunching in on himself a little. You hold him closer as he looks up at you, eyes round though still sparkling with tears.

“Just... why did you never tell me?” You say quietly, trying not to put harsh judgement into your tone.

His shoulders slump further, raking a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s-it’s a long explanation, but I’ll tell it to you cause you deserve to know.” He takes a deep breath, hands wringing together anxiously. “My father’s business skyrocketed, almost overnight. He instantly proposed that we move upstate, which I was reluctant to do, because, ya know, I liked school. But he told me that this was a chance for me to become a business man.” Carter lets out a breathless, biting laugh and you know why. You’ve always known that he’s wanted to become an innovator, not a person stuck in a dull office building.

“I didn’t want to, but he said that if I didn’t, he’d...he’d fucking threaten to disown me and put shame on my name. So I had to agree, thus making me enter my final two years of my school life in this fancy private boy’s school. Dad monitored my phone, telling me that my previous connections were useless and irrelevant, when I was going to become a rich and wealthy businessman. I tried to get my phone and all forms of contact to you and the others from school, back, but it didn’t work.”

“I finished school, and went to college. By then, I couldn’t find your social media, or try to get in touch with you, cause you changed your phone number. I hadn’t forgotten you, I promise, and I tried so hard to find you again, but there was no trace of you.” He finishes heavily, and your eyes are even wider than before, your mouth parting in surprise.

“What?” You breathe in shock, and he chuckles humourlessly again.

“Yeah, it sucked. I’m sorry, I wasn’t allowed to tell you or as I said, he’d disown me. My dad was, and still is, all about his reputation. I couldn’t ‘diminish’ his reputation by talking to my old friends.” Carter mutters in disgust, shaking his head.

You bite your lip, feeling slightly awful for jumping to conclusions. “Why’d you greet me like...you did?”

He shrugs lightly. “I’ve gotten used to it, I’ve been doing this for years now, it’s become the normal for me. It’s not like I wanted to, at first, but I don’t know, I’m the resident asshole, remember? Everyone expects that from me, and it’s not like I can change that with a click of my fingers. But really, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that to you, I was being a dick.” Carter pauses, before the edge of his mouth quirks up a little. “And I still am. But what I said at first wasn’t far off from the truth, just I wouldn’t have said it in such a douchey way.”

Your eyes widen, pulling away a little. “Wait, what?!”

Carter’s hands fly to his mouth, as if to catch the words that had just slipped out. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean to say it like that, just ignore what I said!” He squeaks, his cheeks now painted with a bright red.

Your heart is racing rapidly, comprehending the words that he had tried to cover up. “Are you saying that you wanted to say that I was...sexy?” You cringe a little at those words, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling lightheaded with hope.

He groans in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands.

“N-no, I didn’t want to say it that way! I meant...” He trails off, before looking up at you, with a sheepish look. God, it’s so unfair that he looks so adorable like that, you think yourself.

“I meant that I think you’re...you’re really fucking pretty, Y/N.” He finally murmurs, and your heart almost stops at that moment.

“W-what do you mean?” You stutter in confusion, grabbing him by the shoulders before he can turn away.

He scrunches up his nose, exhaling heavily. “I mean what I say, Y/N. I’ve had a crush on you since we first met and when you started to get boyfriends, I knew I had to make a move. But before I could, I moved away.”

Carter shakes his head despondently, making to get up, biting his lip harshly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, that was totally uncalled for on my side.” He mumbles, and shit he thinks that you don’t return his feelings. When in reality, you’re pretty sure you’ve had a crush on him since the first time you met him.

Making an impulse decision, you put your hand at the back of his neck and pull him to you, pressing your lips to his gently. He lets out a startled whimper that totally doesn’t get you hot and bothered, before grabbing your waist and bringing you closer. And damn, that impulse decision was the best choice you’ve made in frankly, years.

“Wait, Y/N,” He pulls away and for a second you thought you did something wrong, and ruining your renewed friendship.

“I don’t want you to do this just because you feel sorry for me, because...”

“Carter, Carr,” You slowly take hold of his cheeks again, and he relaxes in your hold. “I’m not doing this because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I didn’t return the feelings. I’m doing this because I want to, and have wanted to for a while, and because I also can’t stand you calling another girl sexy.”

He laughs, before leaning forward and capturing your lips again. “I won’t, I promise you.”

“D’ya mind if I stay here tonight? I wanna be with you.” Carter says, squeezing the blue plush heart.

You nod, but you point a finger at him warningly. “If you try to make a move...”

“You’ll kick me out, got it.” He confirms, before giving you a bright smile, something you won’t get used to quickly, because it’s been so long since you’ve seen it.

You pull the covers back off the king bed, and climb in, basking in the cool, clean white sheets. You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to get in beside you, as he fumbles a little.

“What’s wrong?”

He tugs at the edge of his shirt, and you realise what he’s implying. “You can take it off, as long as you have boxers, because if you didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be able to resist.” You snicker, and he rolls his eyes, before starting to unbutton his shirt.

“I am pretty irresistible, I mean look at...”

“CARTER!”

“Sorry, sorry!” His eyes flicker with mischief, as he tosses his shirt over the sofa, and pulls off his shoes and pants.

Your eyes trail down to his navel, and your mouth quirks up at one edge. “Why am I not surprised that you’re wearing Versace boxers?” You lean back on the bed head and he tilts his head with a grin, getting in beside you.  

“Oh don’t worry, doll, you’ll be getting the same brand very soon.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear as you glare at him.

“I’m just kidding! Well, not really, because you will, but I swear I’ll earn your love in a different way!” He squeaks as you whack him with the plush heart.

“You better, because you are not going rich kid all over me.” You groan, giggling when he brushes a kiss by your cheek.

Suddenly, the interconnecting door clicks open and you jump before...

“GET THAT FINE PIECE OF ASS Y/N, I HEARD EVERY WORD AND DAMN HONEY, THAT BROUGHT ME TO TEARS.” Nicole screams, from the threshold.  

“GO AWAY NICOLE!” You yell, though not scathingly, smiling widely at your best friend’s expression.

“HI CARTER!” She waves enthusiastically at him, and he chuckles to himself, before offering her a wave back.

“Hey Nicole.” He smiles, running a hand through his hair and giving you an affectionate side glance. She opens her mouth to say something but you give her a withering glare.

Raising her hands in surrender, she mutters, “I’m going, I’m going!”

As the door closes, Carter reels you in by the waist, pecking your lips gently. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon, okay?” He says quietly, and you nod, cuddling into him closer.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Night Carr.” You mumble softly, curling around him.

“Night Y/N/N.” You can see his smile in the dark, and you can’t help but smile back lazily as you feel your eyes droop shut.

A/N: hi i suck at writing whoops, the ending is really crappy ahah, I’ll work on something better. I’m trying to work on black shaded love, comfort series, a new series, next part of glory and glore etc. once again, nicole is based off @carriefish-er cause she sends me great pics of her cat and random axolotls. she deserves carter just as much, or more, than the reader. 

permanent tags (OPEN): @thecrownedrose / @vibranium-arm / @gallifreyansass / @omalleysgirl22 / @girlwith100names / @buckysinthesinbin / @cameronahugenerd / @imsecretlyromanburki / @megan-atthedisco-blog / @buckys-fossil / @iamwarrenspeace / @sofiathearab / @yikesbuckster / @buckyappreciationsociety / @debbielovesbucky / @metal-armed-dino / @helloitscrowley / @sebastian-stans-thighs / @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics / @natalia--alianovna--romanova / @feelmyroarrrr / @mjuikoli / @meganliiz / @psychicwitchphilosopher / @srgntjbarnes / @carriefish-er / @jurassicbarnes / @ssweet-empowerment / @shieldagentofthemonth / @palaiasaurus64

tagged for this fic: @timid-darkness

(strike through means I couldn't tag you, sorry!)

[taytaybooks]

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT MUSICALS THREAD #2: AMÉLIE

In the previews where they each hold a prop on a pole and then all together the props assemble the fly they all sang about ahhh😍😍 it’s so clever

PROLOGUE: TIMES ARE HARD FOR DREAMERS

The instrumental- it’s so soothing

“I can see the world I’m dreeaming…all arouuund me”

The change from soothing instrumental to jaunty music 😍

WORLD’S BEST DAD

“As my heart fills with love” The “ba bums” and “ahhs” after that line to show her heartbeat ahh and how everyone (the ensemble) hide behind the door and comes out when they sing the “ahhs” for the heartbeat and how they dance oh this show is too much😍

“We can keep her heartbeat stable

Your school is the kitchen table now”

“Would you like to name him?”

“Fluffy”

*looks of disdain and confusion*

WORLD’S BEST FRIEND

The instrumental at the start😍

The fact that a grown man wears a fish costume on his head and sings onstage I mean wow😂

“Listen to your crazy mom droning on now I’m her bla bla bla bla bla” lmao

“Your parents are crazy

But you can count on meeee” the dancing in this scene oml and the fact that a man dressed as a fish holds a smaller fish and smacks it on the ground so it “flops around”

When the instrumental turns slow again😭 And it’s meant to be a sad part but the fish is scootering around on stage singing “goodbye” in a warbled voice😅

WORLD’S BEST MOM

“We’ll be spending the day at Notre Dame” I love how this is sung

“Now the whole world of Paris picks up speed” I love the way everyone on the train moves forward and backward to show the train’s movement

The “ahhs” before Amandine prays for a son

The nuns/holy people with outrageously huge hats😂 And then the holy person with a dinosaur head on his head😂😂

The dummy hitting Amandine and killing her😂😂 and the chalk on the backdrop depicting a dead silhouette with “mom” next to it

Her dad memorialising the mom with a gnome she hated😂😂😂

TIMES ARE HARD FOR DREAMERS

PIPPA SOO IN GENERAL TBH

“All of these towns I’ve never heard of racing paaaast”

“It isn’t what I have, it’s only what I have in store

That matters now, the past can only fade!”

“And I might be a dreamer

But it’s gotten me this far” this resonates with me idk why

“My own museum full of paintings I look through!

Where everything is clear!

It isn’t where I am

it’s only where I’ll go from here

That matters now!

And I am not afraaaid!

As everything I’ll ever need appears

This is how my world gets maaaaade” especially that last note😍

The set change right before the song finishes😍

GOING ROUND IN CIRCLES deserved to stay on the cast recording☕️🐸

THE COMMUTE

“Stopping atop St. Martin’s canal

Skipping a stooone”

“She cracks créme brûlée”

“And how many couples in Paris are having an orgasm right at this moment! ….Fifteen!” Because every Broadway show needs some nasty in there

“Later this evening her life will chanaaange”

THE BOTTLE DROPS

THE FACT THAT A FRIENDS CLIP IS PLAYING ON THE TV SET AHHHHH

Honestly the instrumental to this song and like every song is just so beautiful😍😍

“Fingers slip, a bottle drops, and falling in slow motion”

The instrumental change😍😍😍

“Slowly crack the treasure open”

“A watch that’s waiting to be wound

A treasure waiting to be found

I am Howard Carter stepping into Tutankhamen’s tomb” ahhh

And while the ensemble is speaking I love the small “Give back the box” and “I have to try” in the background

“If I did I could be like Lady Diiii!” That note tho

THREE FIGS

is so jaunty oml yes

“You’re my best friends inside the Seeeeeine”

“Figs all in a BUNCH” the way he says bunch cracks me up every time

“Figaro is bluuue

There’s nothing on his plate

What’s Lucien to doooo?

He finds the guy a date!“

THE GIRL WITH THE GLASS

“Why is it that someone so young and so full of life spends every night alone at her window?

…Unless all her friends are dwarves and I can’t see them"😂😂 good old Dufayel

“Are you an artist?

Every day I come to a canvas with palette and brush

and I ask myself the same question” shit just got deep guys

“Paintings, these paintings"😍

“But in the end it always comes down to…heeeeer”

“But the girl with the glass looks away”

“Just a young girl who doesn’t belong to anywhere,

anywheeeere or anyoooooone” this really shows how lost Amélie can be and its relatable af TBH

HOW TO TELL TIME

“Look down, Monsieur Bretodeau, doooown” I love how she says this honestly😍😂

“On the ledge, a metal box”

“Unlock the box”

“Here’s how to tell time

How to tell time

How to tell time

How to tell time

How to teeeeell

A cognac please!” This whole part is sung so well ahhh

TOUR DE FRANCE

So jaunty and upbeat I love it

“Listen to the squeak of the bakery cart

Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs”

“Looking through the glass

focused on the feast in the grocery window” I love the way she sings this gah Pippa you angel😍😍

“An envelope opens

A cat in a hallway

A filament flashes, flickers and dies

And there goes a hat

Thrown in the air

Thrown in the aiiir” The ensemble around them and the jazz hands ahhhh

“I can feel every stranger in Paris just waiting to collide

How a heart can pull like a moon as we circle each other

Then crashing together

We end up open wide"😍😍

The "ahhs” before she sings “I can see everything clearly now from heeeeere”

GOODBYE, AMÉLIE

The video showing Amélie doing good around the world😂😂😂

The fact that it’s sung be an Elton John lookalike like whattttt and also how the lookalike has a glittery suit and purple hair😂

“We’re an ocean of rowboats you decided to save” I just really like this line

The “oohs” in the background ahhh

Oh, where will we go

Oh, who will appease us” the way they sing this😍

“Saving orphans!

Stopping fires!

I’ve got the high notes and

I’m singing with the choir!

YEAAAAAAAH!” SHE GOT THE HIGH NOTES ALRIGHT DAMN GIRL

BACKYARD

“I’m thinking of shaving my head

And I really want to try crack” ok the fact that the Pippa Soo said this is explanation enough

“Dad you should come and visit me”

“Nope” so blunt😂

“You’re coming with me” cheeky Amélie

The gnome getting excited about going with the Stewardess mmhmmm

WHEN THE BOOTH GOES BRIGHT

I love how the ensemble dresses up and ‘takes photos’ during the song

“There’s the girl you were

There’s the trip abroad

There’s your father’s smile

There’s the face of God” this has like a really cool nostalgic feeling to it

“There’s when she said yes

There’s the next ten years

There’s the loneliness when she disappears” nostalgia and sadness😍

“What’s the use of trying to hide

Or tearing yourself in two” This seems literal and metaphorical and I love it

SISTER’S PICKLE

“You have to give it back to him. Or you could imagine relating to someone you never meet, build no relationship. Become a nun!”

*actually dresses up as a nun as a disguise to give the book back to Nino in a FUCKING sex shop ok then Amélie*  

“Can I help you?”

“No just browsing"😂😂😂

BASICALLY THE WHOLE SONG LMAO

“He’ll think that I’m a nun

And I am not a nun

He’ll think that I am chaste

And I’m not that chaste

Or I could run awaaaay

Leave his book on the shelf

By the lube and the lingerieeee” out of context this is very weird but I love it😂

“It’s hard to go unseen

At least in this instance with so little distance between” I love this because everyone tries to hide the bad parts but you can’t really do that once you get to know someone well which is sort of what she’s afraid of, but not really?

“I’m not finished with the boy- I mean the book

So I will hold him- hold it till tomorrow” mmhmm girl suuuure keep being in denial sister

And that part at the end where the instrumental changes and ahhhh

“This is so weird” haha no kidding Nino😂

HALFWAY

THIS SONG IS A MASTERPIECE

The instrumental gahhh I swear this song makes me cry

The red fabric backdrop with the equations and waves projected onto it is so cool😍

“But whenever the boat gets halfway there

There is always halfway more”

“In my mother’s schoolhouse

There was always halfway to goo

To gooooo”

“I hear you breathing"😂😂😂

“Who are you?”

“I’m a mystery wrapped in an enigma trapped in a paradox disappearing into thin air”

“Me too"😂

"Little boat, big ocean

I’m the girl with the copper spyglass

who prays that today she will spot her shore

All at once a lighthouse

All at once through the copper spyglass

A light telling me to lean in on the oar

I start to row

But before I can get anywhere

From point A to point B

I am at that kitchen table

where I’ll always be at sea"😍😍😍 this part always gets me when I’m feeling lost and alone and I love the visual projection of it with Amélie moving towards Nino and the sailboat projected onto the red fabric moving towards him too, but then both the boat and Amélie stop and move back away from him ahhh😍💔

"Little boat big oceaaaan” ahh Pippa why is your voice so magical

WINDOW SEAT

“Unsuspended in mid-air And I can see everything from here”

“If I could reach you from Machu Picchu

Then I would say everything I would give anything” this is sweet even if it’s fabricated haha

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE GNOME

Basically the fact that a grown man is dressed as a gnome and singing this fucking song lmao  

I love how they project the Polaroids for the audience to see

Also the fact that the flight attendant/stewardess and the gnome have a little romance going on

“I admit he looks good as a guard

But I want him back in my backyard”

“Do you see that crack in his clay”

“His black paint’s fading to grey”

“Travelling the world is tremendous

But for a garden gnome it’s gotta be hard” poor guy just wants his damn gnome back man

“The stewardesses, they always wonder, doesn’t matter where I roam

She asks "are you one of Santa’s elves?”

And I say “ma'am I am a gnome”

“Back before these feelings made me feeeel thingsss” this is so relatable honestly

“Dad this is Suzaaaanne” girl I see you😂 but seriously Amélie is so pure she matchmakes her own dad and boss gah

THIN AIR

“The frame tries to hide you

Just like a disguise

But I know that face

From the look in your eyes

So I’m reaching out to you”

“Whooooo are you now

When all youuu have is thiiin aiir around youuuu”

“It’s easy to vanish when no one’s around

Your footsteps fall silent as snow on the ground

And I may be hammered but I can hear my heart pound

And it’s reaching out to youuu

Reaching out to youuuuu”

As I’m typing this I’m realising I very well may just be in love with the whole song….

Also ADAM CHANLER-BERAT

“It’s too easy to disappear these days

There you go but nobody sees it

You leave a photo behind for a stranger to see

But now you’re so close I swear I can feel you

No more stories just show me the real you

And I promise that I’ll let you see the real me” awwww Nino😍

“So who are you now

When all I see is a face that hides way love until

You’re alone in a place you

Hide away until you’re alooooone

With thin aiiiiiiiiiiir

Arouuuuund you” 😍😍😍especially how the first line is sung

WRITING ON THE WALL

Amélie’s disguise when she spray paints the quote lmaooo😂

So this song is pretty short but it sounds so ethereal and beautiful😍

Like honestly who would even think it’d be a random as quote from an aspiring writer😂😂

BLUE ARROW SUITE

SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SONG I LOVE IT WITH ALL MY HEART

The soft, magical sounding instrumental after “bring five francs”

“Here on a hill

There sits a great cathedral

Where I’ve left a trail

That only goes so far

Here I can keep him moving forward

And keep things as they are

Halfway to love

And just close enough

To Sacre-Couer"😍😍😍 it’s so beautifully sung and the words ahhh

"I know my heart Is speaking with a murmur

Making the sound that only I can hear

All I can manage is a whisper

Of this heartbeat trapped inside

Here in this place

Grant me the grace

To be amplified” and then the instrumental changes ahhh it’s so beautiful

The hats the ensemble in the carousel are wearing😂😂

“Maybe I can try and stay

Just stand right here

Here he comes!

Screw that!

Run away!” Amélie is forever relatable and so cute😂😍

And then the “ahhs” after the last verse (if you saw my Anastasia post you probably realised I have a thing for “ahhs”)

THE LATE NINO QUINCAMPOIX

The fact that she’s so paranoid and has such an overactive imagination that this whole song is basically her imagining a scenario where he gets hit and almost dies

The part where the ensemble joins in😍

“Current flows through Nino’s arteries

Which stops his heart

As train parts tear his limbs apaaaart” lovely imagery😂😂 and their reactions lmaoo

“Who has time for a guy like that

For a guy who doesn’t know

How to tell time

How to tell time

How to tell

Ahhhhhhh"😍😍 when Nino arrives and everyone else goes crazy lmao😂😂

A BETTER HAIRCUT

The instrumental is so jaunty?upbeat? Idk I just know that I love it

"Everything was going perfect

In the circus

Until the day he dropped me

And then dropped me for the tattooed lady”

“She broke her leg in seven places”

“I did"😂😅 the usual you know

"And it seems that every single guy I know

Has another lady on the side show”

“You know our girl’s a fragile egg”

“Don’t break her heart”

“Or break her leg"😂 this whole song goes from funny to sweet lmao

"She’s not a waitress who will take your order”

“Bring your food or fill your refills”

“Except when working at the Windmills” 😂😂 when they forget she actually works as a waitress lmao but very good message, this musical is/was gold😍 I miss it so much😭😭

“Can you prove?”

“That youuuuu are a looooover for the ages

Can you proooove that”

“Youuuuuuu are not highly contagious"😂😂😂

I love that they shove him & his table out of the way so they can dance

"Love is just another diagnosis

Like bacterial vaginosis” Oml this song kills me 😂😂😂 WHO WROTE THESE LYRICS

“I love her and I don’t know her name” Nino is such a sweetheart awww

“All the while while love infects us

The side effect is that love connects us” this extended metaphor is weird af but it works so well and I love it because it also manages to give us all a great message😍👏👏

STAY

THIS SONG IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT

“But don’t expect me to play fair”

“I hear you coming

What can I do to

Drown out this drumming”

“No turning back now that you took the breadcrumbs

And I lost the way

And arrows fall out of thin air

If I could just find the right words to say

Would you stay right there

I like you right there”

“Stay where you are

Safe enough range

Try to move closer

You’ll only get halfway

Pin down your heart

Put out the flame

Don’t come any closer

But don’t move awaaaay”

And the canon effect of Nino and Amélie (he kind of like echoes her?) in “stay where you are” and “pin down your heart”^😍

HALFWAY (REPRISE)

“Is it true that you’ve solved Zeno’s paradox?” I love the way she sings this gah

“I have to do more than stay”

“Even though I am always halfway there”

“I could meet you there halfway” I ship them so much

AND THEN THEY KISSSSSSS

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

AKA THE SONG I WOULD SELL MY SOUL FOR ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

“Where do we go from here

Now that you are standing by my side

After all there’s more to life than holding you” 😍😍

“After all there’s more to life than we can see

Will there be troubles?

I don’t know

Will there be sweet things?

I hope so

Will there be time to keep on dreaming when this dream is over?” This is so realistic ahhh I want to legitimately cry, such a real and beautiful love😍

“What happens when you can’t hold on

Or when I can’t hold on to you?”

I love the faces they make when taking pictures in the photo booth😂

“What’s gonna happen?

I don’t know

But whatever happens

Here we go

What’s gonna happen

And where do we go

From here?” A perfect ending to a perfect musical that deserved better❤️

Other Threads

Anastasia

[comic-movieheroesranked]

Cinematic Comic Characters Ranked! (Year 2011) Final Part

This year I think has the most characters ranked so far, and all from movies introducing brand new characters. X-Men franchise gets a reboot with X-Men: First Class; The MCU welcomes the additions of Thor and Captain America: The First Avenger; DC Comics introduces Green Lantern, and we also get The Adventures of Tintin, Cowboys & Aliens, The Green Hornet, and Priest. Here’s the TOP 20!

*SPOILER ALERT FOR THE HIGHLIGHTED MOVIES MENTIONED ABOVE*

20. Kato (The Green Hornet)

"Go be a journalist. I'll kick ass."

If anyone should have been the Green Hornet, it should have be Kato. His fighting skills are great, his driving skills are even better, and his abilities with machinery have not only created the best cars for fighting crime, but also the best coffee machines. Instead he chooses to be Britt's sidekick and even though he kicks the other dude's ass on several occasions, Kato still decides to put up with him for reasons no one will understand. Oh and he can't swim, which is random, but yeah.

19. Heimdall (Thor)

"I need no longer to obey you!"

Heimdall is the seer of all things and protects the portal outside of Asgard. When the Frost Giants break into Asgard he suspects someone has figured out how to fool his abilities, and what a greater suspect than the master of illusion himself, Loki. He suspicion for the male increases when Loki becomes King and he not only sends Thor's friends to retrieve him from Earth but he also tries to attack Loki himself. Loki freezes him but his will to protect Asgard gives him the strength to break free and bring Thor and his friends back home.

18. Captain Haddock (The Adventures of Tintin)

"You hit a wall, you push through it."

He might be drunk, but you can't take away Haddock's passion towards life and the seas. It's in his blood to be a true adventure seeker in the ocean and his biggest adventure comes when Tintin reveals his ancestor, Sir Francis, has hidden away treasure. The pair work brilliantly together and in the end, Haddock takes down his biggest rival while restoring honor back to his family's name.

17. Priestess (Priest)

"We've all sacrificed. Some more than others."

When the church sends Priestess to hunt down Priest for breaking his vow, she decides to join him in his quest instead. She's a huge gain to the cause, she seems to have the same skills as Priest and is also to help him almost instantly when he needs it, which is most of the time. In fact, during the last stand, Priestess not only takes out all the familiars, but she distracts Black Hat from killing Priest and also blows up the train full of vampires that would have otherwise destroyed their city. It's hinted she has feelings for Priest but she puts them aside to recruit the rest of the priests to help them on their future missions.

16. Jane Foster (Thor)

"Magic's just science we don't understand yet."

Jane's passion for science goes beyond the facts in front of her. She constantly tries to push the limit so that she can discover something truly amazing. It comes of the form of Thor, the god of thunder and someone she manages to hit with her car. Twice. She may not fully believe his stories at first, his unique charm really helps the chemistry between them and she does what she can to help him retrieve his mighty hammer, even if technically she only did it so she could get her research back from SHIELD. When Thor returns to Asgard she isn't sure whether or not she'll see him again, so instead of waiting to find out, she's back in the lab, trying to figure out how to reach him on her own.

15. Jake Lonergan (Cowboys & Aliens)

"I'm a wanted man."

Even though he lost his memory, Jake at least was able to kick into his natural instincts from the get go. With his fancy little alien gun he becomes the leader of the human resistance against the aliens. Turns out he managed to escape the alien captivity after his wife is killed and he slash's an alien's eye to escape. He casually handles every obstacle that gets into his way until he ends up actually getting caught by said alien but manages to kill him with the help of Dolarhyde. With the town in his debt, Jake is announced a free man and is no longer at risk of rotting in a jail cell.

14. Peggy Carter/Agent Carter (Captain America: The First Avenger)

"I can do more than that."

Yo, Peggy was a freaking force of nature. She literally did everything the soldiers around her did but in heels! It was her training that showed everyone that Steve was ready for the super soldier serum and she even got to show how sick she is with a gun when Red Skull's assassin snuck into their headquarters. It sucks that Steve had to die just shortly after their relationship was starting to go to the next level, but I'm pretty sure Agent Carter goes on to be the best agent this country has seen.

13. Sebastian Shaw (X-Men: First Class)

"We are the future of the human race."

One always wonders what kinds of horrors Magento must've have went through in the concentration camps that caused his hatred for humans, and most of the horrors were because of Sebastian Shaw. Wanting to learn more about mutant abilities, Shaw tortures Erik and even kills his mother to get his research. He seems unfazed by the kid's growing hatred and power and it's probably because he's not only the leader of the Hellfire Club, an organization of powerful mutants, he's also a powerful mutant himself. He can direct every type of bullet/energy into destruction for his enemies. His main goal is to create WWIII, a nuclear war that would kill the human race and leave him to rule the mutant survivors. He has the charisma to get away with it, but with Magneto as an enemy, he stood no chance. Killed by the very quarter he used in Erik's lessons, Shaw's dreams do actually end up living on through Magneto.

12. Hicks (Priest)

"Point A? Meet Point fucking B."

I thought Hicks was going to be that guy who always gets in the way but that wasn't the case at all. He really handled himself for someone who has never gone up against vampires, his skills easily proving why he was the sheriff despite his young age. Even though he wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as he had without Priest and Priestess, he was a great supporting character who even saved Priest towards the end. Of course his main goal is to save his girlfriend, Lucy, and he's able to do just that.

11. Hank McCoy/Beast (X-Men: First Class)

"Don't mock me!"

Hank is a sweet boy who, like Mystique, wants to hide the more uglier effects of his mutation. In his case it's his feet even though his skills when he uses them is what attracts Raven to him in the first place. Still, his feelings for her aren't enough to keep him from taking the serum he created but it only makes matters worse and turns him into the blue Beast we all recognize today. He accepts his mutant self after this, but its clear that whatever he had with Mystique is over as she decides to join Magneto's Brotherhood and he stays with Charles.

10. Odin (Thor)

"Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor!"

Odin is an honorable King of Asgard, who truly makes every decision for a specific reason. But even he has trouble raising his two sons. On one hand he has Thor, who isn't quite ready to rule as he's too hot headed to truly make decisions with the kingdom's interest at heart. It must've been so hard for Odin to banish him, but it's what needed to be done for him to truly understands what it means to rule unselfishly. Then on the other hand he has Loki, who has been plotting to take over since the very beginning and gets even more fuel when he finds out he's adopted. All of it is too much and Odin ends up slipping into a cosmic coma until the very end of the film, where he acknowledges the growth in Thor now that he's saved Asgard.

9. Priest (Priest)

"Then I go against God."

Most of the priests and priestess are recruited into the church when they are young, but for some reason Priest joins when he's an adult. You'd think this would make him weaker than the rest but it seems he's not only the strongest, but also their leader. When the vampires are defeated, he goes into hiding until his old ally-turned-vampire kidnaps his daughter, Lucy, who thinks she's his niece because his brother agreed to raise her when he was taken away. With the help of Priestess and Hicks, Priest defeats Black Hat and rescues Lucy, but that's just the beginning of their problems. Priest discovers the vampire queen is still alive and goes after her, completing ignoring the church's protests once again.

8. Tintin and Snowy (The Adventures of Tintin)

"Snowy, look at this!"

At just the ripe age of seventeen, Tintin has traveled the world and solved some of it's biggest mysteries for his newspaper. The kid even carries a gun around, which does end up coming in handing when he gets wrapped up in solving the mystery of the Unicorn. He's not alone though as most of his discoveries come from the help and guidance of his trusy companion, Snowy. The two end up helping a captain named Haddock in finding his ancestor's last treasure, while also dealing with an enemy that is hellbent on revenge. Still, this adventure is nothing new for Tintin and Snowy and they're able to piece together the remaining pieces of the puzzle and find Sir Francis's lost treasure.

7. Hal Jordan/Green Lantern (Green Lantern)

"Let me go fight for my world and I'll show you that will is stronger than fear."

Hal's a likable guy, despite having a bit of an ego that comes along with it. Yes, he's extremely reckless at times, but he's got that spunk that allows him to think outside of the box, which is another reason why he was chosen to be the next Green Lantern after Abin Sur dies. Throughout the film we keep seeing everyone doubt him because he does have fear in his heart, a lot of it having to due with his father's death, but it's at the end he shows everyone that it's ok to be afraid, it's how you overcome it that matters. With this discovery he's able to defeat Parralax, a task some of the strongest Lanterns died trying to do, and finally earns his spot among the Corps.

6. Raven Darkholme/Mystique (X-Men: First Class)

"Mutant and proud."

It was so interesting to see Mystique in this light. In the previous films we had this hard, deadly assassin that was one of Magneto's biggest threats against the humans and now we got to see how that came to be. Before she was the intimidating mutant we know, Raven was just a scared girl who Charles adopted as a sister and who was ashamed by how she looks. But then she's around other mutants and she slowly starts to accept herself and even comes up with everyone's codenames, but then there's little things that set her back. One, Charles is a bit of a jerk to her and keeps holding her to expectations that I don't think are necessary when he doesn't try to understand what it's like to be in her shoes. Then there's Hank who does know what it's like to have to hide, and who Raven definitely likes, but isn't secure with his own looks and even encourages her to continue to hide who she is. But with all of this, Erik stays as a constant reminder that she is perfect the way she is and that anyone else would be lucky to have her gifts. After that, it's not hard to understand why she chooses him at the end of the movie.

5. Loki (Thor)

"I never wanted the throne, I only ever wanted to be your equal!"

I'm quite familiar with Norse mythology even before I really got into comics so I knew right away that Loki was not this concerned brother he was set out to be at the beginning of the film. It was surprising to find out that not only had he constructed literally everything that happened in order to take the throne for himself (except for Odin going in a coma, that was just luck) but he's also adopted and really belongs to the King of the Frost Giants. He tries to take out Thor and use the Frost Giants to kill his father but when Thor returns he tries to save himself by attempting to destroy the Frost Giant's world as a way to appease his father. Thor stops him, however, and Loki freefalls out of Asgard but somehow manages to take control of a human on Earth just as that human meets with Nick Fury to discuss a very powerful artifact.

4. Thor (Thor)

"For the first time in my life, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

The introduction of Thor. We don't see him become the great hero he already is and how he got to control the mighty hammer, but we do see he still has a lot of growing to do before he's fit to rule Asgard. His growth in character comes with the help of some humans on Earth, specifically Jane, who shows him that there are different ways to handle situations instead of brute force. His growth couldn't have come at a better time as he has to face off against his brother, Loki, who practically manipulated everything leading to Thor's banishment. His moment finally comes during his final fight with Loki, when he destroys the bridge that would allow him to see Jane again. He gives her up for the kingdom's safety, truly learning how a king rules with his kingdom's interest at heart. He loses the chances of seeing Jane and also loses his brother, but he's able to reconcile with his father and the support of his friends gives hope that one day, him and Jane will reunite.

3. Charles Xavier/Professor X (X-Men: First Class)

"You're not alone."

Who knew that Porfessor X, the father figure of many future mutant students and X-Men, was such a Casanova when he was younger. I see the appeal, who wouldn't like a guy who knows exactly what to say, in the most charming way possible? Still, despite all the wild nights he has, Charles is quick to get serious when the opportunity comes to meet other mutants like himself. After meeting Erik and the others, Charles tries to bring them in on his vision of peace and working together with the humans. Of course Shaw ends up causing a big flaw in his plan and despite becoming like a brother to Erik, he ends up losing the other to his hatred of humans. He loses more than that when Erik accidentally forces a bullet into his spine, leaving him unable to walk. Understanding their views can never be the same, they separate and Charles opens up his school to all mutants for sanctuary.

2. Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto (X-Men: First Class)

"Peace was never an option."

The best origin story of the X-Men, is how their greatest enemy came to be. We watch as Magneto suffers at the hands of Shaw and the Nazis for his powers and then uses said powers to hunt them down one by one. When he fails to kill Shaw, he meets Charles Xavier and the two begin a friendship as they use their two ideologies to meet other mutants like themselves. One thing I liked about Erik is his ability to learn fast. After Emma Frost bests him during their first one, he's quick to understand her threat and quickly handles her during their next confrontation in Russia. When training he allows Charles to open up his mind to advance his skills, and he also opens up Mystique's mind to her appearance. At the last possible second, Erik shuts Charles out when he confronts Shaw, killing him with the same quarter that lead to his mother's death. He needs to work on his accountability a little though, as it was him who deflected the bullet into Charles that handicaps him. Still, it doesn't stop him from starting the Brotherhood and becoming the villain we all know...Magneto.

1. Steve Rogers/Captain America (Captain America: The First Avenger)

"I could do this all day."

Captain America is the ultimate triumphant tale of the underdog. Steve Rogers was a weak tiny man who seemed to have so many illnesses that I thought he belonged in a plastic bubble. But the kid had heart and a true sense of doing the right thing, which is why he was perfect to become Captain America. And while his transformation was a HUGE success, and I'm not just talking about his physical appearance, it took awhile for him to really see some action. Throughout the film we see that even though he's got all of these enhanced abilities, he's still just a kid from Brooklyn. He's still dorky when he's around Peggy, he still mourned heavily after Bucky's death, and he still never backed down from a fight. Despite all the terrible things Red Skull committed, Steve never even batted an eyelash when it came to taking him down, or even sacrificing himself to save millions of lives. He's a true hero for the little guy, wonder how he'll do now that he's woken up more than seventy years into the future.

[roninishere]

My Recovery ∆ two ∆

(I don’t own this gif, but DANA!)

WARNING: word count 3092, sorry I couldn’t help myself

Also excuse my horrible grammar and spelling errors.

Table of Contents? 

My Recovery

∆∆

   Raw had been a success, ratings weren't off the charts great, but better than before. It brought some light to Isabella knowing Hunters words were coming true. All she needed was the confidence, that was far from her. Nowhere in sight.

   To keep her ideas fresh, she had her laptop pulled out typing with plate of her favorite, salad. She actually hates salads, but she had to change some lifestyles recently. Eating habits were one of them. This was going to be rough, but her health was more than worth all of the struggle.

   “Whatcha ya doin' love?" That thick Irish accent made the woman put her screen down to see that big goofy smile on someone she considered to be family, Finn Balor on screen, but to her as Fergal Devitt. The thirty-six year old man was truly a one of a kind, aside from his Demon aide in the ring; he was like a little kid, especially since he loves Lego's.

   That smile could make any girls day that much better “Typing up some notes for next week," She saved her work, closing her laptop to give the wrestler her attention. “How you doin'?"

   “Doin' pretty good to see my favorite girl back. Did ya get my flowers and get well card?" Isabella was a 100% sure he sent her the best bouquet of flowers, and his get well card was the first thing that gave her a smile on her face since her accident.

   “I did, made me cry and smile at the same time. Thank you."

    He pulled up a chair at the table, sitting on it backwards already ready for his segment with Elias Samson in his cute jacket and wrestling undies feeling a bit bad “I'm wsorry love, didn't mean to make ya cry. I woulda taken a flight to ya if I coulda."

    “It was a good cry I promise, and I know you would have. Glad you didn't, I was in pretty bad shape." She assured before her face lit up in excitement “Oh! Are you going out tonight with the others?"

   Narrowing his eyes, not that she wasn't good enough to hang with the talent, he was surprised to see her so excited “I did, Luke and Gallows invited me, did Colby ask you?"

   “No, Miz and Maryse invited me, he offered to go with me but I want to go workout first."

   Fergal has nothing really agaisnt Colby, no not even the fact Colby injured him last year, completely accidental. The veteran wrestler did know one thing straight, and that was Colby's bad history with women. With how close he is to Isabella, he didn't want her to be his next victim.

   “Oh that's good love, did ya want me and Cathy to wait for ya and go together?" Oh Finn, such a gentleman but Isabella didn't want to be the third wheel. Plus, Cathy and Finn hardly see one another so why get in the middle of that?          Besides, the woman hasn't gotten the use to doing things on her own. She was pretty stubborn too, so she needed to learn to do be independent “Nah, I'll meet you guys there, something I need to do by myself.”

   “A'light love, me me know if ya change your mind,” Looking back to see the Miz/ Heath match was over, his match was next. “My match is next, I'll catch up later ya?"

   Nodding, she gave him the thumbs up as he headed to the gorilla “Good luck!"

   “I don't need luck love!”

∆

  “Okay Ashely, let's do this!" Asking the best, WWE superstar Dana Brooke for advice and workouts for upper body, the two women stood in the gym facility in their hotel room with Isabella eager to learn.

  Pulling her hair back in a pony tail, she wheeled herself closely behind Ashley paying very close attention as the former bodybuilder dished out a lot of information “Love that spirit, now today we'll start with light weight so I can demonstrate multiple simple and exercises you can do. Grab the tens, and get situated on the bench."

   Carter grabbed the ten pound dumbbells, setting them on the clear space on the bench before placing her hands on the bench and using her upper strength and did a little hop getting on the bench really proud of herself that she didn't eat the floor, or needed help.

   After the hour and a half of learning, and even though they only use LIGHT weight, Isabella was dying. She wasn't a weight type of a girl, she WAS a runner, long distance. In cross country in high school, and pretty good at it, but she never pursued it into college. She should have.

   “My god Ashley, thank you so much. It means a lot for you to take the time to help me out." She breathed out taking some swings of her water bottle as the two ladies exited the gym heading towards the elevator.

  The former bodybuilder was more than happy to help out a friend with learning the basics and the right and wrong way of lifting weights. People wanting to get in shape made her heart warm. “No worries Bella! There's so many things you can do, and I know a lot of videos to help you out too."

   Departing, Isabella had a great time figuring out her shower situation. She should've asked the hotel to put a chair in her shower. It was the real struggle. She slipped in her towel pulling herself on her wheelchair. Pretty sure she would have a bruise later.

   After nearly an hour and a half; wiggling in her clothes and getting ready, Isabella took one last look at herself in the mirror trying to find the self confidence to meet everyone at the bar.

  What if it came off as she was trying to hard to fit in? Or that the big elephant in the room would make things awkward? What if someone asked her about her accident?

  Would she cry? No, she cried enough the last month, well she could cry but she had enough strength to hold it back.

  Everything was so hard. Things would only get harder and she knew that.

  People looked at her differently, and that's what she was worried about. She didn't want others to think that, and she didn't want people to treat her differently or all of a sudden care. That was the vibe she thinks about with Colby, and she sure as hell hoped that wasn't the issue.

  “You can do this." She told the woman in the mirror before grabbing her things and leaving her hotel room.

∆

   The bar was down the street from the hotel, so she decided to not take a cab. It would give her time to a. get use to using wheelchair more and b. allow her to give herself that pep talk of confidence that was still nowhere to be found.

   Being in front of the bar outside, she was having an internal battle to do one of two things; go back to the hotel or take a chance and enter the bar. See how things go.

   Gripping the top of her wheels, she went with her instinct and thought 'fuck it'.

  “There she is!" Cesaro yelled as Sheamus added “We thought you weren't going to show!"

   ‘I was thinking about it.' She thought as she allowed a smile to appear of her lips as she came up to the many tables put together and familar faces before forcing a joke “Wasn't going to show? Nonsense, gives me a perfectly acceptable reason to get wasted tonight.”

  She honestly wanted to see if she could hold her liquor with the men, especially the lunatic himself. Overall though, she wanted to let loose and have a good time.

   “Wow, look at you Bella! You look hot!" Maryse yelled from across the table making Isabellas forced smile an actually smile.

   Very faltering comment as she circled the table hugging and greeting her wrestler coworker. Searching for a place to sit, the only empty chair was of course next to The MAN, Colby. As she rolled herself closer to him, she felt an unsteady feeling inside not able to put her finger on it.

   “Oh hey! I was beginning to think I was gunna have to send a search party after you.” His comment made her giggle as she sat at the chair next to him.

  She adjusted her hair shaking her head saying hello to miss five feet of fury before him the male wrestler her umdivdened attention. “Well, I'm sorry to worry you Mr. Colby, I would have been here sooner, but I slipped getting out of the shower and decided to lay on the floor for a bit." She put it in a joking manner brushing it off.

   The current Raw women's champ Lexi, Alexa Bliss, couldn't help to over hear when Lina, Nia Jax stopped what she was doing hearing that their friend had fallen. “Why didn't you call one of us?” “Are you okay?"

   “Guys I'm fine. I swear. And I didn't call because-” “you're stubborn,” Lexi finished off with a grin knowing it was true. “don't hesitate to call next time!"

   Helplessly agreeing to have the subject dropped, Lexi and Lina continued their conversation as Isabella turned back to Colby, “Sorry about that, have you guys eaten yet?”

     Sensing that she didn't want to speak on the fact she slipped earlier, he thought to not press her about it. “No worries, and no we haven't; why? you hungry?"

    Taking a look at the menu, she answered “Actually I am, would you like to share something with me?"

   “Sure why not, what do you want?" He leaned his elbows on the table leaning a bit over to the right where she had the menu open. She bit down on her lower lip hard when she felt his elbow nonchalantly touch hers making a spark between them causing the both of them pull away awkwardly.      Cathy Kelley nudged her man Fergal and motioned her head go across the table where anyone could see the cute but awkward encounter between the wrestler and writer. A half of the older man wanted to smile, and the other half wanted to say exactly what was on his mind, ‘you better not hurt her.'

   To just see what lays for the rest of the night, Fergal's stubborn self gave his girlfriend a smile before kissing her forehead beginning a conversation between them.

  “Urm sorry." Colby mumbled as his eyed were fixed on the menu.

   Isabella felt a little guilty since she made it seem like she didn't want him to touch her at all-wait no, that sounds bad. She didn't want him to feel like she was disgusted by him touching her? Because of that, she blurted out first thing that came to mind “No it's okay, you're really warm warm."

  She mentally smacked herself. Great job.

   “Oh really? That's really great to know." He joked allowing them to share a laugh to break the ice. His laugh was seriously contagious. Oh god was it hot in here or no?

   Once the waitress her way back over to their table, she came over to Colby and Isabella when they waved her down “Sorry about the wait, what can I get you doll to drink?"

   “What do you have for beers?" She was carving for a good beer.

   The waitress listed all of their beers getting an answer “I'll take a fat fire, and can we get tonights special with the two burgers and tray of fries?"

   “Oh course!" After finish in up ordering, Colby was kinda surprise to hear what beer she likes to drink, he didn't take her for a heavier drinker. Actually, he didn't even take her for someone who would work in a wrestling company.

   Something the whole group knew when it came to Isabella Carter was; she wasn't your topical blonde ideal woman. Her height was somewhere on the line of Lexi's, maybe an inch taller. Her golden platinum hair fell just above her chest, and her curls were so unique it made the women wrestlers jealous. One thing she hated about herself was her nose, it was everything but perfect, it reminded her of a penguin.

   Her electric blue eyes change lighter depending on her mood followed by the dark circles under her eyes indicating sleeping was difficult, but she never shyed away from plastering a smile on her face to have others think otherwise.

   Her teeth were always clean and white, and the thing people could say they loved was her two K9 teeth, and joked about her being a vampire. Isabella was thick around the hips, and her breasts could be described as distracting. They were all natural, but just in anything she wore, they stood out.

   As they waited for their food, the group were taking shots having a good time. Jon and Renee caught Colby on numeral occasions looking at Isabella in completely awe. After the fourth time, Jon nudged Colby to spark a conversion with the woman.

   Speaking to women he was atrracted to was never a problem before, maybe it had something to do with that she was kinda his boss? Or that she wasn't his topically type of woman. When she reached for her second fat tire, Colby leaned over to her side, close by her ear to speak over the loud music and voices “I didn't tell you earlier, but you look great well more like amazing-beauitful. Yeah beautiful."

   She worse a dark grey skater dress, with  black leggings underneath with these cute ankle boots. You could feel she spent quantity time on her makeup because she was glowing.        Her face flushed up at his compliment and she let out this cute giggle seeing/ hearing him stumble on his words “Thanks Colby, you don't look so bad yourself either. I like this look."

   She referred to one of his black dress shirts that hugged his muscles tightly and his dark blue jeans that she could only imagine looked great on him. Being use to only seeing him shirtless and in his attire, or either a jacket and sweats, it was nice to see him really something nice making any woman drool.

   Isabella wasn't drooling, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him either.

   “Oh thank you, and you like this look? Better than me walking around shirtless?"

    Without thinking, she answered confidently “I'm not saying that, it's a great sight, but I like this, it's a different side of you."

   “I'll keep that I mind, and that's pretty ironic coming from you, is there any other T-shirts you own that aren't Metallica?"

   She let out of roar of laughter at his jab at her Metallica shirts making his grin spread when she eased him “As the matter of fact, I do, I own probably a T-shirt from every wrestler I've came across in the last ten years."

   “Seriously? That's pretty cool. Oh so that means you own one of mine, right?" Getting a nod, that cocky grin made her a bit weak in the stomach “which one?"

    Her fingers tapped against the beer bottle before finally answering him “ Your ‘Never shuts up' one. I honestly loved your whole fued with Cena."

    “Really? You must not be a Cena fan." He narrowrd his eyes as he watched her shrug “You said it, not me."

    Interesting. He had no idea, but quite franky, he didn't know a thing about her. He wanted to though. Taking a slip of his light beer, he nonchalantly added “Aye, I'm not judging, maybe you'll tell me why someday."

   “Someday." She promised before their food was brought to them. He watched her push her hair behind her shoulders to keep her hair out of face as she ate. Colby at this point positioned himself a bit sideways on his chair in her direction so they could talk to each other without kinking their necks.

   “Aye Isabel," Something came to Renee random wanting to ask her “How you doin' girl? How's that guy you were with? James? How are you guys?"

   Jeez, James was something else. James is a man Isabella use go be with, but not for some time though, just when the girls ask about him, Isabel just said good not wanting to get into details about it. It took her a moment to say something, it confused Colby a bit chewing on the last of his burger.

   “James? I haven't been with James in months." Her and James were together for about a year until she had enough of his shit. This definitely caught the attention of others, wanting Renee to learn more. “What happened?”

   Mentally groaning, she just simply explained it like this “He's never like the fact that I work here. Never supported me, so we got into it and he basically said to choose. Him or this," She motioned her hand out to the muitple wrestlers in her presences. “and I love this, and he was an douche bag always," She shrigged it off, obviously it didn't phase her “but I'm good, just step by step."

  Everyone knew what she meant by that, she didn't want any empathy, they knew that. So that being said, Dean signaled the waitress breaking the odd silence “Shots? I'm not drunk enough yet."

   “Amen to that, I'll have a couple. Trying to get wasted, big time." Isabella honestly said as other joined in. After a couple of shots, and four fat tires, she felt buzzed.

∆

    About two hours there, everyone was pretty drunk, with the except of Renee, Cathy, Finn, and Joe (Roman). They were kinda the babysitters of the group. Joe kept an eye on his former SHIELD brother seeing how close he had been the whole night with the blonde, never once left her side.

   “What do you think of that?" Renee asked him knowing things were still not completely patched up in their friendship.

   Joe could say he didn't care but he'd be lying “Honestly? I dig it."

   “Do you wanna dance?" Colby had followed her eyes to the many couples slowly swaying back and forth at the slow beats. He knows she can't dance, but hey, they could try.

   He received a 'really' face before shrugging “Hey, if you wanna, you can step on my feet and we'll try to dance.”

   The way she looked down smiling all bright was what took his breath away. That was a best and sweetest thing somebody has said to her in a while. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I'd rather try dancing with you when I don't have a couple of drinks in me."

   “Fair enough. Rain check?"

    Starting to get all giggly, she said “Yes, rain check. Now," She set some shots in front of them “Drink with me."

    “Alright. I got you.” Oh, and he did, muitple shots and beers later; the group found themselves downtown Phoenix, walking on the sideways with silly drunkness.

    “H-hey guy-ys?" Isabella slurred her words around as she wasn't wheeling herself tomorrow, Colby leaned his elbows against the handles on the back of her wheelchair for both support and so she wasn't having to use her arms so much.

    Everyone turned their attention to her and she could only keep one eye open “T...hanks. I..r-really really neeeded this...”

   The group said no problem and that she was apart of the wrestling family Heading to the hotel. Eventually making it back to the hotel, everyone pretty much spilt ways except the couples and Isabella and Colby.

   They were so drunk, they were all giggly on their way there.

   Fegarl and Cathy were finishing up their conversation since they were pretty private about their relationship, except for tonight. Seeing Colby and Isabella startung towards to the elevator, he stopped them “I'll take her back to her room Rollins.”

   “Okie dokie demon king." Colby joked as the female to his left broke out in giggles. Rolling his eyes playfully, Fergal turned his attention back to his girlfriend and turned around when he kissed her goodbye only to see the two drunk coworkers nowhere in sight.

    Shaking his head, his bullet club members told him to let them be before heading to their rooms.

    “T-t-this one!” She shouted on accident slapping her hands over her mouth realizing how loud her level of volume was. Searching through her purse, she found her room key unlocking the doot five minutes later. In her room, she turned seeing Colby leaning against the doorframe feeling himself getting sober slowly. “I-i had fun. See you..tomorrow?"

   Before he could answer, she quickly back her wheelchair back and wheeled over to the bathroom as fast as she could throwing up.

    Worried about her, Colby ran after her shutting the door behind him pulling her hair back as she threw up so more. Hearing her whimper of pain as she continued, he rubbed her back knowing she had too much to drink tonight. When she stopped, she wiped her mouth pretty embarrassed he's holding her hair back. “Sorry you had to see that."

   “Honestly, I've seen worse. I've been the worse one. I woke up one time in my own throw. It was great.”

  Chuckling, when she looked back at him with a smile on her face, he could have sworn that he was stone cold sober. His heart fluttered as she put down the toilet seat resting her head on it closing her eyes with a groan. Warmth surrounded his heart. Getting his thoughts together, he used one of his own hairties around his wrist and put her hand up.

   “Gunna lift you up on the counter okay?" He waited for a nod, and as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck before he lifted her with ease and set her down on the counter only to have her rest her forehead against his shoulder feeling like crap.

   Getting toothpaste on her tooth brush handing it to her with a smile as he gently leaned her against the mirror before he left the bathroom to grab one of the shirts she had laying around in her room coming back.

   Seeing her face, he couldn't help let a laugh out getting a drunk 'what?' “There's toothpaste all over," tossing the shirt over his shoulder, he wiped her mouth before his face flushed up a bit on this next part. He let out an ‘urm’ and observed her body language for a moment realizing she couldn't be trusted in this state to dress herself.

   “May I?" He pointed to her dress, and getting a shrug and her arms thrown up in the hand like a kid on a roller coaster, Colby wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her up for a moment to pull her dress up and setting her down, he pulled the dress over her head trying to not be a pervert and stare at her chest.

   Clearing his throat, he managed to get her to comply with getting her arms through the sleeves and kept his eyes on her face as he pulled her shirt over her body.

   “Let's get you in bed." He mumbled as he knew she couldn't hear him since she was in and out on light snores. Picking her up bridal style, he carried her to her bed, laying her down, and beginning on unlacing her boots when he stopped what he was doing at what the half unconscious woman said.

   “...stay with me tonight..." Her hand grabbed his wrist gently really enjoying his company. No man had given her so much attention before, and maybe it was just the alcohol, but he wasn't that guy anymore.

   He can't just take advantage over a woman like that anymore. He had ruined all possible friendship backstage with people, and three relationships. He wanted to be a good person again, and the ensure that goal of his, he untangled her fingers around his wrist giving her an assuring smile “You should get some rest, I'll come and check up on you in the morning. Goodnight Belle.”

    “Nightie night." She buried her face in her pillow and it seemed like within seconds, those light snores were heard. Colby finally mustered the ability to leave after he pulled the cover over her body and said “No thank you for tonight."

∆∆

∆    three     ∆

Hey guys, sorry for the long update, I hope y’all enjoy and I’m really trying to keep Seth in character so let me know if I’m stirring away from it (or give pointers)! If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know! Love ya! xoxox0

-Cammy

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