#brain which. i guess describes it perfectly. she’s right back at square one when she was with lemuria but now it just feels Worse

[thenothlng]

adding more to this in the tags. also found out there’s a tag limit lol (spoiler warnings in tags for lemuria and novus tee hee)

probably a wiz oomfie: tumblr user thenothlng also known as styx pass through here

wizblr: how can you tell???

wizoomf: Wizsein

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 4 - Domain

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff. 

Summary: Gojo returns from his trip, and while the two of you are hanging out you ask him to show you some of his powers. Unable to resist himself, he breaks a rule along the way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! I pretty much only have this updated on AO3 but am slowly trying to add all the chapters onto my Tumblr.

- - - 

When Gojo texted you to let you know that he was at his apartment, he did it with a devious prank in his mind. He informed you that you could let yourself in as the door was unlocked but chose to turn off all the lights and hid in one of the closets.

Then he waited.

He heard the patter of your footsteps and a soft “hello”, before creeping out from his hiding place and lightly approaching you. He was quiet enough for you not to hear him, the shadow of your frame slowing down and he could tell you were getting nervous.

She’s going to kill me, he thought to himself but refused to back out now that he had already set things in motion.

He towered behind you, noticing you freeze in place by the unknown and proceeded to wrap his long arms around your waist before pulling you into his body.

“ Boo !” he exclaimed in your ear, earning a well deserved shriek on your part.

“GOJO, YOU IDIOT!”

You elbowed him in the stomach, forcing him to let go of you as a fit of giggles escaped his lips.

You marched over to the light switches, flicking them to illuminate his large penthouse apartment and you furrowed your brows at the six-foot-three goofball who was covering his mouth to hold in his laughter.

“This is how you greet your friends after coming back from a trip?! By scaring the shit out of them?! Who the hell does that?!!”

Gojo tried to contain himself but the image of your jump scare was perfectly etched in his brain, replaying over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he said in between laughs, breathing in to regain control of himself. “I couldn’t help myself but you should see your face!”

“Ugh, you immature , asshole!” you grumbled, throwing the bag that you were holding in your hands in his direction.

Gojo had superior reflexes and caught it before it flew over his shoulder. He took a minute to calm himself down, extremely pleased that his plan went accordingly.

Meanwhile, you tossed your purse onto his coffee table, huffing to yourself as you plopped down on his black sofa. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to even look at him because of how irritated you were.

Gojo glanced down at the bag in his hand, the clear plastic enclosing a number of rainbow colored candies on the inside.

He bit his bottom lip out of guilt. “Okay, I’m sorry …I mean it this time…”

You scoffed, “are you? Because you still seem pretty content with what you just did.”

“I’m not going to lie, seeing you react like that was worth it…”

You scooted away from him as he took his seat next to you.

“What if you were some kind of murderer?!”

“Now why would you think a murderer would be in this apartment when I  invited you over in the first place? You’re smart, use a little logic…” he teased as he tapped your temple lightly before proceeding to open the bag of sweets.

“That’s it, you don’t deserve Rina’s candies...”

Gojo clasped his chest in disbelief, “ you don’t mean that… ”

You snatched the bag away from him, a satisfied smile spreading across your lips as Gojo frowned.

Deep down inside he was really happy to see you. Playful banter and all, your presence was the recharge he needed after his trip.

The two of you met eight years ago at Rina’s candy shop. At the time, your best friend was just starting her own confectionary business which you were helping her with by working part time while you were still studying at university. Gojo couldn’t get enough of her sweets, earning himself a reputation as a repeat customer. You and Rina constantly joke that he practically kept the business afloat during the early days.What you didn’t know is that he also had his eyes on Rina’s pretty friend. Unfortunately for Gojo, you were taken and oblivious to his advances.

He didn’t care; just because you weren’t interested in him in a physical sense, didn’t mean that you both couldn’t be friends. Gojo is the type of guy who would confidently socialise with anyone around him. He knew not everybody took to his personality, especially when the words “narcissist”, “egotistical” and “arrogant” were constantly used to describe him. You knew all this about him but still chose to maintain your friendship. How you put up with his petty behavior and childish ways often had him wondering why you stuck around but he was grateful that you did.  

After all, you were his closest friend - the only person he relied on after Suguru died.

Gojo pouted his lips, singing your name as he leaned forward to you and softening his tone. “If I get down on my knees and apologise will you forgive me?”

“Hmmm…” you pondered, “I think that’s a fair punishment and you’re buying dinner tonight, which I’ll be choosing so you can’t make a fuss about it.”

Gojo nodded his head and shifted his position to plant his knees onto the floor. He placed one hand on his chest, his other lifting up his blindfold so he was peeping at you with just one eye.

“I sincerely apologize for the hurt I caused you. Will you please, with a cherry on top , forgive this idiot who is on his knees?”

He noticed your lovely smile, amused that he was the reason behind this reaction.

“Okay, you're forgiven,” you replied, as you extended the bag of sweets back to him, offering him to take his pick.

Gojo returned to his sit next to you, his fingers dipping into the candy mix before pulling out a ruby colored square and popping it into his mouth.

“Mmmm…” he moaned, as the flavor burst along his tongue, “ this is good.. .”

“It’s a fresh batch. She made it this morning,” you replied, picking up a piece of candy for yourself. “Now that we can be civilized. Tell me how your trip went…”

The two of you spoke briefly about his trip but Gojo wasn’t eager to disclose the headache he is currently going through trying to uncover the fingers of a one-thousand year old curse. Instead he shifted the conversation back to you, asking how your morning with Rina went instead. He was only back for twelve hours before he had to leave again. The two of you wanted to see each other but agreed that you would hold off on “grabbing drinks” until he returned three days from now.

However, Gojo noted how good you looked seated right in front of him. Before all this started, you would usually show up at his place in casual clothes, paying no attention about how you looked but tonight he realized that you made an effort.  

You made an effort to look nice for him.  

He appreciated it, because the pair of denim jeans you had on fit in all the right places that he loved paying attention to. Your white t-shirt revealed a hint of the lace bralette you were wearing underneath and the man wondered if that was a deliberate fashion choice on your part just to tease him. Your lips were painted in crimson, practically forcing him to focus on your mouth. He had to remember that the rules were there for a reason. The rules ensured that the two of you maintained the boundaries of your friendship. The rules were there because you two needed to make sure that this didn’t influence your existing relationship in any way.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, but I can’t promise an answer…” Gojo cheekily replied, popping another sweet in his mouth as he grinned at you.

“Can I see your… domain ?”

“Is that supposed to be a code for my dick or something?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “you keep telling me about all these powers you have but I’ve never seen any of it.”

Gojo squinted his eyes at you, “why are you so curious about me all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were asking me a lot of questions about work just now, which you usually don’t do, and now you want me to show you my skill set…”

You fidgeted in place, your fingers tapping nervously against the fabric of your jeans. “I don’t know, I think it’s weird that we have been friends for so long but I still don’t know the real you…”

Gojo paused, taken aback by your statement, “of course you know the real me.”

“Not the parts of you that you keep hiding from me.”

It’s for your own good, he thought to himself.

Gojo pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying those words.

“You already know about my Six Eyes…” he light heartedly replied.  

“There’s more to you than that! I guess I’m just curious to see what else you can do. Besides, I’m starting to come up with theories about your powers. Starting with the fact that you have to wear this blindfold at all times otherwise you’re going to start shooting blue laser beams at people.”

“No laser beams, I can promise that,” Gojo replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Then show me the you that “claims” to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer…” you said, poking him gently on the shoulder. “I just…want to see something …”

Gojo pondered for a moment, sighing to himself as he was not quite sure what he could possibly do that wouldn’t risk putting you in danger. A few seconds passed before he stood up, taking the bag of sweets from your hand and placing it near your purse.

“I want you to stand in front of me,” he requested as he walked around the sofa and found a spot in the middle of the room.

You did as he asked and motioned your way to the position that he had requested. Gojo extended his arm out, ensuring that you were a good distance away.

“Alright, now give me a hug.”

You arched your brow, “seriously?”

“Just do it…” he insisted.

“If this is another stupid prank…”

“I swear it isn’t. Now give me a hug, I’m trying to make a point.”

You walked over towards him, taking your time until you were a few inches away from him. Your arms looped around his waist as you embraced him, but you stared up at him in confusion waiting to see what Gojo was planning next.

“Now what?”

“Okay…” Gojo placed both his hands on your shoulders, before motioning you back until you were an arms length away from him again. “Now I want you to try and push me,” he commanded.

“Push you?”

“Yes. Try to knock me down.”

You scoffed and he could tell that you probably thought he was messing around with you again. Just to play along you nonchalantly placed both your hands up and moved over to shove him, only this time Gojo did something that he’s never done in your presence.

Your eyes widened, your hands pressing into the air that was separating your touch from his body. The force like iron poured over concrete, incredibly powerful and completely protecting Gojo from you.  

“Wait… why…” you voice shook, as your frustration got the better of you. Your hands started to tremble and Gojo noticed you increasing your force as you tried to fight the barrier of his infinity technique.

“ Why can’t I touch you?…”

You were using your legs to push now, every ounce of energy going into fighting the invisible cloak that shielded him.

Gojo smirked before dropping his infinity.

You felt the barrier lift, the pressure giving way as you hurled into him. Your body collided into his, all that pent up energy crashing into the sorcerer as you fell onto the ground. Gojo braced your fall but your face was planted into his chest and your arms lay flat on the ground besides him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

You gathered your senses, pushing yourself until you were sitting upright to face him. A puzzled look masked your face as you patted Gojo’s chest lightly before clutching shoulders and massaging your hands down his arms. “I can touch you now!  How…how did you do that?…”  

Your gaze lifted to meet his own both shocked and amazed by what just happened.

With his blindfold on you couldn’t tell that he was looking at you with wonderment.

Gojo straightened his back so that the two of you were facing each other. You shifted your legs, adjusting your position so you were straddling him. Your hands were still pressing his arms, gripping onto them as if you were trying to prove to yourself that you were indeed touching him.

“You asked me to show you something. So I did...” he said with a shrug.  

“Was that your domain? Are…are you the domain?!”

Your innocent question made his heart swell, and a laugh escaped him.  

“That’s not how it works! It's more complicated than that but this is just one of my techniques that I use to defend myself.”

“That’s… pretty cool …”

“Does it satisfy your curiosity?”

“A little.”

Gojo felt you finally let go of him. He glanced down to stare at your hands which were slightly red. He winced at the sight, bringing his fingers to wrap around your wrist as his thumb circled the center of your palm.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, this is from smacking the floor when I tripped.”

“Technically still my fault, I should have warned you that I was going to drop my infinity…”

“When I tried to push you it was the weirdest sensation. Like, I was touching something but feeling absolutely nothing at the same time. Has anyone ever broken it? Your infinity?”

“You forget I’m the strongest,” Gojo smugly replied, “nobody can touch me unless I want them to.”

You hummed to yourself but Gojo could see that you were lost in your own thoughts. You took his statement into consideration but he could tell you still had more questions you wanted to ask.

“Thank you for showing me,” you replied softly, choosing to let it go for now.

Your eyes locked onto his, your cheeks a little flushed when you realized how close your faces were to each other. Gojo could sense your pulse increasing, your chest rising and falling as seconds passed between you both.

Right now, all he could think about is kissing you.

His lips brushed yours, a breathless sigh escaping you as you broke the silence that hung in the air.

“ Maybe, we should order some dinner…” you suggested, your eyes shimmering with anticipation.

“That’s an idea,” Gojo murmured, his eyes from beneath his blindfold dropping to your lips.

“I was thinking maybe we can take away from that place-“

His lips locked onto yours, interrupting your thoughts as he gave in to his desire. His hands moved to your hips, tugging you forward against him so he was holding you closer. He bit your bottom lip, before licking it and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Completely entranced by what he was doing, he didn’t notice your hands trailing up his chest until it circled around his neck. This kiss was different, slow and passionate as Gojo took the time to explore your mouth. The taste of sugar dance across your tongues as he deepened the kiss, and he could feel himself getting hard as your chest rubbed against his. One of his hands snaked it’s way up behind your back, tangling his fingers in your hair. His other hand began lifting your tee from the front, sliding underneath it as he slowly began rubbing the flesh of your midriff. You broke away from him, taking a second to catch your breath as you pressed your forehead into his and hoping to calm things down before they escalate.

“We shouldn’t…we said we weren’t going too…”

“You’re right, we probably should stop…” Gojo agreed, but his lips spoke otherwise as he returned a kiss instead.

“ Satoru… ” you whined, but he could sense the heat between your legs as your hips naturally bucked into him. “We said we wouldn’t…not tonight..”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“What about the rules…”

“Tell me that you want me to stop, and we can go back to what we were doing.”

His lips trailed to your neck, where he nipped and sucked at your skin with every intention of leaving a mark.

You whimpered, tilting your head instead and giving Gojo better access to continue what he was doing. Your silence spoke volumes and gave him the consent he needed to continue.

“Rules were meant to be broken,” he whispered in your ear. “And tonight, sweet girl, you’re all mine …”

- CHAPTER 5: EDGE - 

[hournites]

Say that we’ll stay with each other 

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch 

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline,  so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up. 

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all. 

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process. 

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind. 

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.” 

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda. 

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day. 

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer. 

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets. 

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.” 

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?” 

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.” 

“God, that’s tacky.” 

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment. 

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

 “Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day. 

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives. 

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again. 

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it. 

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.” 

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means. 

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.” 

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her. 

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids. 

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time. 

[sineala]

Captain America Corps

[This is a repost from my Patreon.] An extra review for everyone this month! I wasn't actually planning to write a review of Captain America Corps, but, then, I wasn't planning to love it as much as I did, either. Surprise! This has been the Book Club selection on the 616 Steve/Tony Discord server for the entirety of September, and it took me all month to get around to reading it, and when I finished reading it on Marvel Unlimited I immediately ran to the internet and ordered myself a copy of the trade paperback, because I needed one of my very own to cuddle. This review contains spoilers for the entirety of the series, so leave now if you don't want to know them. (It also contains a few pictures of elements that you may wish to avoid if you are sensitive to body horror in fiction.)

Captain America Corps is a five-issue miniseries written by Roger Stern, whom you may remember from such classics as his Avengers run featuring the Under Siege arc and his short but extremely memorable Cap run with John Byrne. The art here is by Phillipe Briones, who I don't think I've seen in any other book, but it's nice enough, I suppose. Anyway, it was published in 2011 and is also set then (well, sort of) -- so Bucky is still Captain America (though not for much longer) and Steve is Commander Rogers. (It is still available in trade paperback but it is technically out of print, so you should act now if you want a paper copy.) The best way I can describe my feelings about this book is thus: you know how David Michelinie's 1979 Avengers novel I read and reviewed a few months ago, The Man Who Stole Tomorrow, had an amazing premise -- Kang the Conqueror freezes Steve again and takes him to the future and the Avengers have to go time-traveling to get him back -- but it completely flubbed the actual execution of said premise? Well, Captain America Corps is a lot like that, but it absolutely, perfectly nails it. The premise isn't exactly the same, but it is definitely Peak Comics in the best zany madcap way, and the more you know about canon, the more your familiarity will be rewarded. Captain America is being kidnapped. But not just one Captain America -- Captains America across the multiverse are being stolen, and history is changing around their disappearances. A cosmic entity by the name of Tath Ki has made it his business to right these wrongs, and so to do this he kidnaps some more Captains America of his own. He ends up with a team of five: the Captain America of 1941 (Steve Rogers), USAgent (John Walker, from a small but unspecified number of years prior to 2011), the Captain America of 2011 (Bucky Barnes), American Dream (Shannon Carter, from the MC2 universe), and Commander A (Kiyoshi Morales, from several centuries in the future). So you can see already that this is going to be fun. All the Caps, in my opinion, are very well-characterized -- Steve is painfully earnest and a little inexperienced; Bucky is cynical, jaded, and he kind of can't believe that 40s Steve is looking up to him, which is really sweet; and John Walker is, of course, a complete asshole. I wanted to punch him in his stupid face multiple times, so clearly his characterization is perfect. I can't speak to Shannon's characterization because I've never read MC2, and Kiyoshi is new as of this book, but he is also excellent. So, obviously, because this is a Captain America book, there is a terrible dystopian future for them to fight -- and to show them what's at stake, Tath Ki drops them right in the middle of Dystopian Times Square, and they all get rounded up and imprisoned, whereupon they promptly stage a prison break for the various superheroes (Sam Wilson, Luke Cage, Peter Parker...) that they meet, before Tath Ki brings them back to his home base talk about it, now that he's convinced them that this is a future they have to stop.

(The law enforcement of the dystopian future includes several Americops and the Ameridroid. Remember those guys from the Cap comics? I sure do! Whee!) Tath Ki explains the situation here on this Earth, because obviously there has been some divergence. And the divergence point is this: the Avengers never found Captain America in the ice in Avengers #4. Two new women -- Broad-Stripe and Bright Star (why, yes, those are deeply unsubtle code names) -- ended up on the team instead, but, well... the Avengers just didn't work without Steve, and right when they ought to have founded the Kooky Quartet in Avengers #16, they disbanded instead. All because they'd never met Captain America. Thor went back to Asgard. Hank ended up in a psych ward. Tony died during heart surgery. (Don't worry, I'm coming back to this point later. So is the comic.) So the Caps split up to go see what they can find out about the remaining Avengers. Jan is hanging out with Sue Storm but has been warned about Kiyoshi and Shannon by the villain, and she kicks them out. Steve and Bucky break Hank out of the psych ward. And Tath Ki takes John Walker to Tony's tomb... to find that Tony's brain is missing from his body. Uh-oh. That's never a good sign.

And, oh, yes, Broad-Stripe and Bright Star are the villains of this series. And, what's more, Broad-Stripe is actually Superia, whom you will remember from the infamously terrible Cap arc The Superia Stratagem. It was really bad. It was really, really bad. But reading this has now retroactively made reading that worth it. Anyway, they're the ones who have been kidnapping all the Caps, and the Cap Corps here teams up with the local resistance force (yes, of course there's a resistance) to fight their way to the villains' headquarters. And do you know who else is at the villains' headquarters? It's Tony! I mean, it's Tony's brain. In a jar. Alive. And conscious. (And his eyeballs. I don't know why or how he still has his eyes. I'm trying not to think about that.)

The fact that Tony is now a brain in a jar is what the #book-club channel has been shrieking about with horrified glee for an entire month. If you like sad Tonys, there is no sadder Tony than this. You cannot make a sadder Tony than this. He is a brain in a jar. It's like everything about his favorite transhumanism, gone wrong. He's been there for years. He has never known Steve Rogers, and doesn't that just break your heart? He's suicidal. He begs the villain to finally kill him. He begs Hank to kill him, whether or not the good guys win. His life -- or undeath, or whatever it is -- is so awful that death is, for him, the happy ending. (We already know, canonically, that Tonys who never meet Steve are the saddest Tonys. Fantastic Four: Dark Reign #2, the issue that famously gave us Earth-3490, also gave us a look at Earth-1735, in which Steve is found very late in the superheroing game and Tony has clearly spent all the time in which they should have been Avengers together instead drinking his life away.) Sad Brain Jar Tony fills the good guys who find him -- Hank, Bucky, and Kiyoshi -- in on the villains' backstory and plans, which is basically that Superia has been stealing all the Captains America and has joined up with AIM and gotten herself a Cosmic Cube to shove them all into, and I'm sure we all guessed that that was happening because what even is a good Cap plot without a Cosmic Cube? Anyway, 1940s Steve doesn't meet Tony personally, as far as I can tell, but he does get to hear about him being alive over the comms, at least -- although it wouldn't mean much to him then, because at this point he doesn't know Tony. So all the Caps and Tath Ki and the villains end up falling into the Cosmic Cube along with the rest of the Caps that Superia stole, who are already in there. Steve merges with one of his other self, which breaks the Cube, and the alternate dystopian reality basically... vanishes from existence as everyone goes home. And Sad Brain Jar Tony is finally at peace. *sniff* Due to the mysteries of time-travel, Bucky and the two Caps after him -- Shannon and Kiyoshi -- remember what happened, but the two from before -- 1941 Steve and John Walker -- don't seem to. Except when Bucky meets up with his Steve, the Commander Rogers of 2011, it's clear that Bucky's return triggered something and Steve is starting to remember everything. Then Bucky decides to go turn himself in and face justice for the Winter Soldier's crimes. We get a brief look at Kiyoshi's time, where he's helping christen a new aircraft carrier named after Steve. And that's it. So obviously this is a completely wild plot in the way that comics are the best at, and what I really want most in life now is fic where 2011 Commander Rogers -- who we know is not the best at having feelings where Tony is concerned, because his current reaction to Tony is to scream at him about his feelings, in the snow, surrounded by all of their friends -- has to deal with the fact that he remembers being in a world where Tony is a sad brain in a jar and it all happened because he wasn't there to save him. Heroic Age-era (early Avengers v4) is one of my favorite flavors of Steve/Tony angst, as they work out how to have a friendship again (and are so bad at it that it involves a lot of very public screaming fights), and this just piles the angst right on top. (Yeah, guess what's on my WIP list now.) Objectively, it's not a perfect comic -- it's kind of a mess, but it's a mess in that glorious comics way that comics are so good at. I suspect if you're not here for the Steve/Tony you won't like it as much, but if you are... well, please enjoy pondering Sad Brain Jar Tony in his dystopian, Steve-less future.

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank  (Ch: 7)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC 

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so idk how good this is, kinda just word vomited onto the page, tryna generate some emotion in there but lets see how it goes, thanks for reading peeps. I know I said I wasn't gonna post but middle of the night inspiration stuck so imma keep writing this 

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

CHAPTER: 7 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

The drive to the teams new base of operations was by no means short. While still being on defence land they were nearly three hours away from the main base, located in a flat valley in the hills and surrounded by greenery and training equipment. Ash had been here once before during a cadets course many years ago with her father, but it was vastly different now. The house had changed drastically from what used to be multiple cabins to what was now a single stand alone one story place. However while the accommodation had changed the grounds had stayed the same. There was an assault course set up that flowed into the trees to the south of the house and there was a pool to the west of the house, all in all, it was nothing to complain about. 

The house itself was relatively modern, having been rebuilt within the last few years or so. The entrance was sealed by heavy wooden doors that required a pin in order to access. Upon entry Ash took in the place, it was actually really nice. It was open plan living, the kitchen was directly to the right as you came in the doors, nice wooden benchtops and crisp new appliances. Directly in front of the breakfast bar sat the living room. Three nice couches surrounded a rather large square coffee table, laden with maps. The fireplace that the couches faced was made of a slate grey stone and sat underneath the rather large tv.  To the right of the fireplace was a door that she had been informed led to the only bathroom in the house that held a shower, while to the left of the fireplace was the door to Ash’s room.

Across the small hallway was the Colonels room, which was attached to his office that was on the far end of the house. At the end of the small hallway was an open archway that, from what she could see, led to a gym. Stepping further into the house and left from the kitchen Ash noticed another two sets of doors. One that led to the boys room, containing four single military style pits and separate draws for each of them, while the second door opened up onto the workspace for them all, which had a door in the back right corner that opened up onto Carrillo’s office. All in all, Ash couldn’t find a single fault to the house, okay perhaps one bathroom to share was gonna be a little tough.

She was startled from her thoughts and exploring when Carrillo called out to her while making his way to his office. “There's some food in the fridge and everything is pretty easy to find so make yourself at home, the boys should arrive in around about five weeks. You’ve got the single room closest to the bathroom”  Ash nodded in thanks and watched as he disappeared into the teams workroom, no doubt going to his office to work through the enlistment papers for the rest of the team. Ash didn’t waste much time going to her room, she could eat later when hunger eventually struck her, she was miles too tired from the drive here and sore from moving about so much. Her room was nice. A large double bed sat in the middle of the room encompassed by grey side tables, each sporting a small lamp. In front of the bed sat a tall set of drawers and a small bookcase. Very homely indeed, thankfully, cause god only knows how long the team would be confined to the house doing research and/or planning and training for future raids.

Ash barely gave herself any time to get changed, haphazardly pulling on an oversized shirt and a pair of comfortable gym shorts, before she all but launched herself onto her new bed, grunting in pain when her left side made contact with the bed a little too harshly . She moved onto her back sinking deep into the comfort of the mattress. The bed was like heaven for her after sleeping on either a creaky army pit or the ground for the last twenty some weeks. If this is what she had to look forward to everyday her enthusiasm for work was about to increase ten fold.  The moment her head touched the pillow she was out like a light. Thankful for her own space and a bed big enough to move around on and toss and turn how she used to.

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As much as Carrillo enjoyed the rank he was and the respect that followed his name, the paperwork at this level was a nightmare. Especially due to the complaints Sinclair had lodged against him due to the incident  at the base hospital. Having to describe in detail the events that occurred between that despicable man and the young officer a mere few rooms over made his blood boil, yet again. He was starting to understand the warnings that came with being posted here, apparently work affairs between ranks wasn’t a condemnable act like it was back home in Columbia. An odd world indeed. Still, within his team he would not tolerate any kind of fraternization, hence his decision to cram the boys into one room together and give Greyson her own room, partly for her own privacy but also for his peace of mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side of his desk, he sighed. That damn soldier might well be the best thing for the team but she sure came with some complications. He’d done extensive research into his team members upon his arrival to the base, most came from non-military backgrounds, a solid high school education or higher, and most but not all had been serving for at least four years and had seen some kind of fire fight. Then there was Greyson. Military background with files upon files that had been redacted and unable to be accessed by anyone in the force, no matter how hard he’d tried. Only the most basic of information could be found about the young soldier; graduated school with honors and received many scholarship proposals but turned them down, participated in many extracurricular activities before and after her education, applied to join the army as both a regular soldier and an enlisted officer as her father had served but yet again, any information surrounding him and his career or rank had been redacted. A Lot of mystery surrounded this soldier, a mystery the Colonel found himself wanting to solve, even if it did go against his own rule.

                                                          ------

When Ash awoke the room was bathed in light from the full moon outside, the sounds of the bush were a welcome homely feeling for her, nature was her comfort. She went to sit but was struck with immense pain. Both her stab wound and head injuries were sending waves of pain throughout her body, making her vision temporarily blurry. The need to puke was high but Ash pushed it down as far as she could. She was hungry, in pain and now cranky, she just hoped her medication would be easy to find in the kitchen. Stumbling like a newborn deer she tried to shake the dizzy feeling from her head, this concussion was a pain in her ass, but the medics did say the symptoms should be gone within the next few weeks, until then Ash would have to put up with feeling sick and dizzy sometimes.  Celebrating when she finally made it to the kitchen without falling on her ass, she then struggled to find the lightswitch, now that was one thing she really should have paid attention too when scouting the house when they arrived.

Having located the switch and turning on the lights she winced, they were just that tad bit too bright for a tired concussed brain. It was when she turned to grab a glass of water to quench her thirst that she noticed a glass already laid out on the bench, with what looked like her meds already measured out beside it and a note beneath the glass. Either she was hallucinating or the stoic Colonel had laid this out for her. Gripping the bench as tight as she could as another wave of nausea overtook her sense she moved closer to the glass, there were her meds. Perfectly placed atop a piece of paper that was covered in a rather elegant script. Each pill had the name and the purpose written next to it and at the bottom of the note were the words “Dinner is in the fridge, eat first. That's an order”  

Ash scoffed a little at the note, of course he’d write that, seemed the man was more by the book than she thought. She was silently thankful for his detailed note explaining her meds, if she had to pick them from the bottle she wouldn’t have known what to take. Opening the fridge and grabbing out the only covered plate she was surprised to find that the meal looked home cooked, Did this man really cook dinner? . It was safe to say she was shocked by the thought but proceeded to microwave her dinner anyway, leaning against the bench to keep herself upright, lest the Colonel come into the kitchen later in the day and find her sprawled out on the floor.

Ash all but devoured the food when it was ready, not waiting for anything to cool down, she was far too hungry. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, or the last time she ate this good. She never would have guessed that Carrillo was this good at cooking, like sure she’d guess he cooked, but this was some next level stuff. Finishing her meal and cleaning up any mess she’d made was an effort at best, the dizzy feeling was getting worse every time she moved. Quickly she gathered the pills from the bench and downed them in one gulp, chasing them down with water, she hoped at least one of them would help with the horrible dizziness and the nausea that accompanied it. The need to sleep was beginning to overtake her again, something she figured would be common while she was recovering, as much as that might annoy her she’d be thankful for the rest.

Like clockwork she yawned, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to shake the sleep from her body, only to regret the motion a few seconds later. The stitches in her side had pulled impossibly tight at being stretched, her side felt like it was on fire. She reached down to grab her side in pain and pulled her hand away at the warm feeling. Glancing down she noted the rapidly growing red spot seeping into the gauze pad. Of course she had ripped her stitches, she'd been warned by not only the medics but also Carrillo to not move around too much due to her side. Seems she really hadn’t been listening to the warnings. Deciding that she was entirely too tired to deal with the result of her stretching Ash just walked as calmly as she could back to her room and clambered into bed. There was always tomorrow to fix this. And with that, Ash was quick to fall back to sleep, her medication no doubt aiding her plight.

                                                    ------

It was the smell of freshly made coffee that had Ash climbing from her bed and shaking off sleep the next morning. Her medication had definitely kicked in, she could feel no pain from anywhere in her body and the nausea had disappeared finally. To her surprise, Carrillo was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and simple white t-shirt that was entirely too tight, not the Ash was complaining cause the view from her vantage point was amazing. If Ash believed in a higher power she woulda thought that the gods had gifted her with the man standing in the kitchen. No man had the right to look so sinfully delicious in a simple white shirt like that. It was so tight that it clung to his sculpted upper body and left very little to the imagination The thin shirt was stretched thin across his chest, pecs struggling to stay contained. The fabric was stretched tight across his broad bulky shoulders, his biceps straining against the confines of the sleeves that were sure to tear if he were to flex just the right way. He reclined against the bench facing her but was wrapped up with whatever was on the tv. Ash was obvious in her gawking so it was only a matter of time before his eyes fell to her. When they did, his eyes widened comically in shock. Ash wasn’t sure why until his eyes travelled down her frame and landed on her side before a look of realisation overcame his face.  

He took a few quick paces towards her before turning to his right and disappearing into the bathroom with a look of determination on his face. Ash paid him no mind and made her way to the kitchen counter to pour herself a coffee before taking a long pleasant sip. It was a mere minute later that Carrillo was standing in front of her, a med kit laid out on the bench and an expectant look on his face. She looked at him long and hard before realising he was speaking, she gave him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side, before she heard him huff and repeat what he said.

“Greyson, I asked you to take of your shirt”  

It was Ash’s turn to gape at him, the audacity of this man, why would the most by the book man she’d ever met be so unprofessional. “Excuse me?” the disbelief in her words made him roll his eyes, if she wasn’t so confused right now she probably would’ve gone off at him for that.

“I don’t know what activities you got up too last night, but you’ve obviously torn through your stitches, despite the warning from both the medics and myself” He said with a small amount of annoyance while pointing at her side. Now that Ash looked down she realised he was right. Blood had well and truly soaked through her bandage and through the shirt she wore to bed, She was unsure how she didn’t notice this sooner because now that she was seeing it with her own two eyes, it was pretty obvious.

Begrudgingly she pulled the shirt over her head, unsure as to why she had to take it off completely before coming to the conclusion that the shirt probably should be washed. She had a second to drop her shirt before Carrillo was standing a mere few inches in front of her, slowly peeling the bandage from her skin before inspecting her wound, Since when was he a medic?, that thought had her laughing silently, or so she thought. Being this close meant that he heard her laugh so she was met with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression on his face, that surely ended her laughter. She was silent while he worked, wincing occasionally when he prodded a little too hard to see her reaction.

“You’ll be fine if you rest for the next few days, you tore the bottom few stitches. Don’t do anything stupid and the wound will be healed on time” His tone was definitive and the order was clear.

Ash groaned and rolled her eyes, a brave thing to do this close to the man.  He handed her a bandage then turned around to pack away the supplies from the kit. She quickly fixed the bandage and took off toward her room, coffee abandoned on the bench, she was well and truly awake now. New shirt now acquired and covering herself she returned to the main room, Carrillo now vacant from the space and probably in his office working. She snatched up the tv remote and flicked through the channels, settling on an old war movie before curling onto her side to relax.

She woke hours later, the movie long since ended and the daylight now darkness. A blanket had been draped over her in her sleep and her dinner was sitting on the coffee table with a glass of water and her medication beside it. She would forever be grateful for the subtle ways the Colonel looked after her, even if he would never admit to it. She at least knew he cared enough for his team that he’d go out of his way to make her feel comfortable and like she belonged, even if she was new to the force.

                                                                                                                                                                                          -------

Aside from the incident in the kitchen the rest of the week went pretty smooth. They’d developed some semblance of a rhythm. Both woke early, whoever made it to the kitchen first put the pot of coffee on and poured a cup for the both of them, conveniently they preferred their coffee the same way. Black with no milk or sugar. Then they usually sat at the kitchen counter to eat breakfast, cereal for Ash and whatever Carrillo cooked himself for breakfast, Ash really wasn’t one for a big meal in the mornings. After breakfast the Colonel usually disappeared into his office to work and the younger officer would clean up their dishes and then hog the shower for as long as possible, soaking in the opportunity to have a warm shower all to herself without limits. Ash would spend most of the day watching tv or reading one of the many military inspired books that occupied the wall mounted shelves on either side of the tv.

Carrillo would emerge from his office around sixteen hundred hours each day, and proceed to cook dinner for the both of them. Ash had tried once but burnt the steak and been deemed too inexperienced and untrustworthy in the kitchen, something she was silently glad for cause the Colonel was a better cook than she ever could’ve hoped. Again Ash did the clean up, a fair trade off for not cooking, while Carrillo once again disappeared, this time to the gym or for a run around the perimeter of the property along the treeline, a sight Ash loved to enjoy. Only twice  he had stayed to converse or silently watch the news beside her. Then like clockwork they would bid each other goodnight and retire to their rooms.

Everything was going perfect, the routine now something established and easy to work through, even if Ash did complain about being on couch/bed rest until either the medics cleared her or the Colonel deemed her fit enough to begin easing her way into training. It wasn’t until the Wednesday of their second week together that something changed between them, something Ash looked back on with a smile on her face and made Carrillo have conflicted feelings and wish he had just stuck to their schedule they had so easily adapted to around each other.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Wicked (6/10) - One Short Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes did many horrendous and evil things. He didn’t felt worthy of love and affection because after all, who could learn to love a monster.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previous Chapter    Series Masterlist

We'll call it home too and then, just like now we can say. We're just two friends, two good friends, two best friends. Sharing one wonderful, one short day.

Today was your date with Bucky, and you were freaking out. Your room looked like a tornado passed through it. There were dresses, pants, shirts, and shoes thrown everywhere. Because no matter what outfit you tried on, it wasn't the right one. You either looked like you were trying too hard or not trying hard enough. You finally decided on a nice sundress that was not only stylish but also comfortable. You were fussing over your dress, debating on changing again when someone knocks on your door. You open it to see Bucky, who is dressed in a black shirt, black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a pair of leather gloves, at your door.

"Wow, Y/N. You look good," Bucky quietly compliments you. His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

"So do you, Mr. Super-Soldier. Are we ready to go?" You ask him in return.

"Yes, we are. After you," Bucky says while letting you lock up your apartment door.

Bucky leads you down to the garage of the complex, a part that you've haven't been to before. He points to an old and beaten truck, saying, "this is our ride for today. Sam let me borrow his truck. I didn't think you'd like to ride on my bike on the first day."

"Thank you for doing that. I'm not a big fan of motorcycles. Never had been," you confess to Bucky.

Bucky groans. "Don't be saying stuff like that, sweetheart. That just might be a deal-breaker," he jokes with you, as he opens the door for you. "This date might not be a total failure after all," you think to yourself as you get into the truck.

As you make your way closer to the city, you sit in uncomfortable silence. You could tell that both of you were nerves for this date. You, because you were on a date with the man that you tortured, unwilling, for over four years. Wanda, Bucky, and even a part of your mind told you not to worry about that. That he understands that you did what you had to do to survive. You were just as much a victim as he was. But the back of your brain, the louder part, told you not to get too comfortable. That you or Bucky were going to get hurt in this. Bucky was nervous too, but for different reasons. He was nervous because this was his first date, as himself, as Bucky, in over 8 decades. He was forced into a world with new norms and habits. Long gone were the traditions of his era. The era where you asked a father's hand for marriage and you saved yourself for marriage. Nowadays, people, and to his surprise, women, were openly flaunting their "hookups", as Peter described to him. He was also nervous because he was on a date with someone who made him feel things. Things that were different than the intoxicating combination of hormones. Maybe it was too early to think about it, but he thought he was in love with you. That's why he couldn't fuck this up. He's been given another chance at life, and even though he couldn't understand why you would be nice to a monster like him, he was determined to make things work.

You decided that you wanted to break the ice a little by asking Buck some questions. Like you would have done with any other first date.

"So when was the last time you were in the city, Bucky?"

"Uh, you're gonna make me think? The last time I was in the city as Bucky Barnes, was right before I was shipped out to the war. But I'm pretty sure that HYDRA sent me there for some missions, but I can't remember them all too well," He tells you. At the mention of his memory and HYDRA, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

"Ha, I guess that was my fault that you can't remember," You bitterly joke, trying not to look at Bucky.

Placing his hand on your thigh, Bucky tells you "Hey, you had a job to do, just like I did. But you did a good job. You kept all of my good memories up in my noggin. So I don't want you to feel bad, okay?" You couldn't help but blush. How he was able to not focus on the bad, but rather focus on the good still amazes you.

"So what do you have planned for us?" You ask Bucky, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Just some of the tourist attractions. Gotta show you the staples. Then maybe treat you to a slice of New York-style pizza. There's nothing better than a slice of New York pizza," he tells you with a smile on his face. Seeing him genuinely excited for this date made your heart warm up. In all your time knowing Bucky Barnes, you've never seen him this excited.

Bucky wasn't lying when he said you were going to see all of the "staples" of New York. You went to the Met, Central Park, The Empire Building, and Times Square. Right now you were on a ferry heading to the Statue of Liberty. This was the attraction that you were most excited for. Growing up, you've always wanted to see her in person, and you couldn't believe you were going to finally do that. As you get closer and closer to Lady Liberty, your smile just gets bigger and bigger.

"You weren't lying when you said you couldn't wait to go to the Statue of Liberty. Why is she your favorite, if you don't mind me asking," Bucky asks you as you sit closer to him.

"I've always liked the design of the statue it's self. But as I got older, I fell in love with what the statue represents. How we should welcome everyone no matter there circumstances. That no matter your background or history, if you put in hard work you can make it here in America. That's always resonated with me," You respond excitedly as the ferry docks. You couldn't believe that you were here!

"I know that you're already wanting to check out the different parts of the island, but I have a surprise for you," Bucky says to you as he holds out the two tickets for the Statue. You were going to climb up to her crown.

You knew that there were a ton of steps to get to the top of the Statue. You knew that you'd be winded. But it didn't help that you had a smug super-soldier, who could probably run to the top and not get winded, by your side. When you finally got up to the top, you were left breathless. From your viewpoint, you had a perfect view of the city skyline.

"Isn't this view beautiful, Bucky?" You ask Bucky, speechless at how beautiful the city skyline was.

"It sure is, doll," He tells you. You turn to face him and see that he wasn't talking about the skyscrapers. You start to blush, knowing that he was talking about you. As you are about to say something, Bucky leans for a quick, and chaste, but passionate kiss. That short kiss had your body reeling. It caused you to feel things that you've never felt before, at least not because of a kiss. You were falling for Bucky, and you were falling fast.

The rest of your date went perfectly. And, you had to admit, Bucky was right about New York-style pizza. It was so good. You made it back to the compound, where you were walking hand in hand with Bucky. Sam made some smart ass comment about you two which Bucky quickly countered with his own joke. Wanda just gave you a smile and a knowing look as Bucky walked you back to your room.

"I had fun today, Y/N. Thank you for letting me do this for you," Bucky whispers, not wanting any uninvited ears to hear him.

"No Bucky, thank you. For my first time in the city, I had a great time," You whisper back to him as he pulls you into a hug.

"I guess I should say goodnight now," He tells you while hugging you.

"Not necessarily. Why don't you stay the night with me, Buck?" You intice him with a suggestive look.

"Are you sure, Y/N? Are you sure you want this?" Bucky asks, taken aback from your invitation.

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure," was all that you told him as you grab his hand and pull him into your room, locking the door behind you.  

[willow-salix]

Here's my offering for the second FabFiveFeb with the awesome @gumnut-logic focusing on the gorgeous Gordon. I used two of the prompts. Enjoy!

Selene's eyes cut to the side away from the book that she promised John she'd read but was continuing to boggle her brain.

He was there again, hanging around near the bedroom door, haunting the hallway, stalking the sleeping quarters of the house. And it was getting annoying, she'd have to do something about it. It was hard enough to concentrate on "Unlocking the Universe" without the constant distractions of the sighing, whining, moaning apparition outside. 

The figure moved past the door again, looking in at her. She tossed the book aside and sat up. 

"Gordon! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

The sun lightened, tousled blonde head popped around the door frame. 

"Oh, Selly, are you done reading?" 

"Well I am now."

He bounded in like an enthusiastic puppy, dropping down on the end of the bed, forcing her to move her feet quickly out of the way. 

"Did you want something?" 

"No, it's all good." He glanced around, his eyes taking in the new editions to his brother's room. Since Selene had been in his life John had definitely lightened up, growing more comfortable in his own skin and spending more time with them all but, even though Selene had gone shopping with Grandma and Virgil to pick out a few things to make herself feel more at home, John's uniqueness still shined through. 

They had all wondered if Selene would take advantage of John's suggestion that she redecorate his room, but they should have known better. Selene never acted as you would expect her too, very much like all the women in their lives. They were used to strong women that never followed the crowd, Kayo, Grandma, Penelope, it stood to reason that anyone the brothers met would be just as special. 

John's posters and star charts were still on the walls, but a few new types of chart had joined them, ones that showed the phases of the moon and its meanings, the sun and the solstices and the constellations related to star signs. 

Her books were intermingled with his own, her clothes were in his wardrobe mixed in with his,  items of makeup and toiletries were scattered around his bathroom and little interesting trinkets and her divination tools had joined his collection of space rocks, awards and celestial models on his shelves. The room had been softened with the addition of softly glowing lamps, fluffy blankets, a squishy armchair that Selene liked to curl up in and a couple of house plants. 

But the most interesting item to appear was what she called her altar, a small, scarf draped table nestled in a corner near the window. It held her tools, candles, crystals and other interesting things he didn't know the use of. The room now smelled of sweet incense and warm candle wax instead of its scent of furniture polish and occasionally John's shower gel. 

He had expected the room to feel different, but he could still sense his brother's presence in there even though he was currently up in Five. Somehow they had managed to blend effortlessly, a natural evolution of the two. 

Gordon would never admit it but he had moments of intense jealousy when he saw the two of them together. Not that he begrudged his brother the happiness he had obviously found, nor that he saw Selene as anything but a much loved sister who often seemed like a female Scott, put there to worry, boss him around and force him to eat. 

No, he just wished he had the same thing. It seemed rather unfair that his brother could manage to meet someone in such a random way and find his perfect partner when, try as he might, he could never seem to get any closer to the one who held his heart in her perfectly manicured hand. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. It seemed that every time they got close to their moment something or someone got in the way. 

"Spit it out."

He jerked out of his musings. "What?" 

"Whatever it is that you're thinking so hard about," she reached out and smoothed her thumb down the scrunched up skin between his eyebrows. 

She was right, he had been hovering, mostly because he was trying to get up the guts to not only ask for help but put his plan into action. He guessed it was now or never. 

"Sel, I need your help with something, call it my birthday present."

Selene sat up a little straighter. "OK, obviously I'll help with anything, unless it's a prank on your brother, in which case I'll still help but I'll deny all knowledge and throw you under the bus in a heartbeat."

"Good to know," he grinned, her teasing as always, putting him at ease. "Promise you won't tell anyone about this either."

She touched her hand to her heart and drew a little cross. "Cross my heart, I won't tell a soul."

"OK, first I need to show you something, but we're gonna need transport."

                                        ***

Selene's nose was pressed against the window of the little sub, her eyes drinking in the sight of the world outside. 

"Wow…this is just…wow." She had never expected there to be so many colours illuminated by the powerful lights of Four. A moving rainbow of waving, pulsing, rippling beauty that covered the sea floor, building up into what could only be described as an underwater garden. Mounds of coral in all colours created a hilly backdrop for the shoals of colourful fish that swam lazily around them. 

"Better than space?" Gordon nudged her playfully with his elbow. 

"I will never admit it to your brother, but it might just top it. This is incredible, I mean, I've never even been scuba diving."

"You've never…" he shook his head in equal parts amazement and disappointment. "That's it, I'm teaching you to dive. It's amazing, you know John used to join me a lot, he likes to skindive," he saw the blank look on her face. "Where you dive without a suit, just with an aqualung and flippers. He helped teach me to swim you know, Scott wanted to throw me in and let me work it out for myself as Dad did to him and Virg, but John was insistent that he help."

"That's so cute."

"No it's not, it's manly and the complete opposite of cute."

"Sorry, not cute at all, you're right," but her grin said he would never change her mind, she was just humouring him. 

"We're nearly there," he said, changing the subject. "It should be around this area, I worked with Dr Forsythe at the Living Oceans foundation, who specialises in Coral Reef conservation, the results ended up being pretty positive."

"Is that where we're going now?" 

He nodded. "You should start seeing some any minute now."

It was nice and quite interesting to see the way Gordon handled his craft. It was nowhere near as big, fancy or fast as the other Thunderbirds, but he acted like it was an extension of himself. She was used to seeing Gordon as the playfully mischievous one that she often caught plotting something, or out on a mission when he was all seriousness with the odd burst of light. This was different, this was his element and he was beyond comfortable. It was nice to see him so relaxed and happy. 

The first flicker caught his eye and he paused, his finger pointing the way. Her eyes followed his directions, growing wider as she saw the result of his months of effort. 

"That… is truly amazing, boo. She'll love this."

"So you'll help me get her out here?" 

"Oh, you can count on it."

                                     ***

"I do so enjoy our little shopping trips," Penelope tucked her arm though Selene's, "you always find such interesting little shops that I would never have thought to look in."

They had wandered all over Union Square and were now making their way down to the bay, Selene having had a nice little restaurant recommended where they could have dinner. 

"I love that dress you got, you suit vintage, it will look beautiful on you. I just wish my style suited it a bit more, but we can't all be blonde and beautiful."

"Oh hush, I happen to know a certain space monitor who thinks you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Selene smiled, catching sight of their destination. 

"And I happen to know an aquanaut who thinks the same about you," Selene pointed down to the beach where Four sat, surrounded by people. 

The shock on Penelope's face was a sight to behold, it took a lot to surprise her, but they had definitely managed it. 

"Don't keep him waiting."

"But what about dinner? What will you do, Parker isn't returning for at least four hours?" 

"John's picking me up in an hour in my car, we've got a date night. Now go," she gave Penelope a gentle push towards the railings.

Feeling uncharacteristically unsure as to what she was doing and rather ambushed, Penelope slowly descended the steps down to the beach. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, why was he even here, on his birthday of all days, when he should be celebrating with his family. 

The back hatch of Four opened to reveal a grinning Gordon. He cambered out, stretching to his full height but instead of the standard blue uniform he was dressed in smart, grey trousers and a plain white shirt with not a palm tree in sight. His usually messy hair was brushed and an attempt had clearly been made to tame the unruly mop. 

"Lady Penelope."

"Gordon, happy birthday."

"It is now, and also," he reached back into his craft and drew out a bouquet of pink roses, "happy Valentines day."

Penelope could feel an uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks as she took the flowers. 

"Will you do me the honour of being my Valentine tonight?" 

She nodded. "I'd like that very much."

"I've got something to show you, care to take a little trip with me?" 

"How could I turn down such an offer?"

She took his offered hand and climbed aboard. 

                                     ***

Penny had been under water more times than she could count, being an experienced diver and having a car that was more than waterproof, but nothing compared to sitting beside Gordon Tracy as he piloted them deeper into the ocean. 

He'd programmed in the coordinates and left the small craft on autopilot as he produced a picnic basket from her favourite London deli, filled with all her favourites. 

She would never have believed that he had it in him to put together such a romantic gesture, he'd likely had a little help since Selene was obviously involved, but she found she didn't really mind. 

It was nice to be alone together, especially with no chance of interruption bar an emergency. No nosy Parker to wedge himself between them, no darling Bertie to demand their attention, no rescuees to reassure, no brothers to interrupt. Just them and the quiet peace of the ocean. It was rather blissful. 

Now that they had time to talk they made the most of it, chatting between bites of crusty bread, tangy cheese, succulent grapes and a very palatable white wine, catching up on their lives the past few months. 

She looked more beautiful than he had expected, dressed down in casual jeans and a cosy sweater, clothes that one wore to go shopping with a friend rather than to a society event. It was strange but most definitely not unpleasant to see her out of her comfort zone and designer clothes, to see the real woman underneath. This was the one he'd wanted to get to know, the one he was drawn to. 

Penelope found her gaze drawn over and over to the gentle curve of his lips as she watched him eat, recalling just how soft they had felt during their one, brief kiss. She hadn't planned it, she'd just been overwhelmed by everything, seeing him back on active duty after his brush with death had been emotional for her and she'd thrown aside all decorum, giving in to the urge. Now she wanted to be able to do that again, wanted to lean in, close the distance between them and lose herself in the unique presence that was Gordon Tracy. 

He blinked his big caramel eyes at her and she was done for, she inched forward as he did the same...BEEP… 

Gordon leapt back into the pilots seat as they neared a reef, growing instantly more serious as he took back control of the little craft from the autopilot now they had reached their destination, steering it expertly past clusters of coral and waving fronds of exotic underwater plants and little darting fish. 

Gordon watched her eyes drinking in the sight of the reef he'd so lovingly helped to cultivate, to save for future generations. 

"I've been working with a guy specialising in marine conservation breeding, basically breeding hardier fish with those that are endangered, trying to create new breeds that will survive the changing climate."

"Oh really? That's fascinating. Were you successful?" 

Gordon didn't speak for a second, guiding the nose of the sub around a particularly large group of pink puffy anemones. There they were, still in their shoal, lazily swimming, almost exactly where he and Selene had found them two days previously. 

"You tell me," he nodded towards the small, genetically perfect saddleback butterflyfish. 

"Oh my," Penelope stared at the fish, their bodies sparkling in the light of Four's high beams. There was only one way to describe the shine of their scales, the way they seemed to be a silvery pearl colour one moment and with a flick of their body you saw a rainbow of colours…

"Iridescent," she whispered in awe. "I have never seen anything so beautiful. And you helped create them?" 

Gordon smiled proudly, watching his babies swimming happily around the craft as they floated gently through the shoal. They were graceful, unbothered by their presence, seemingly curious as they came right up to the glass to investigate. "Yep, I got to name them too."

"You did? What are they called?" Penelope tickled her finger against the window, laughing with delight as a fish followed her movements, booping its nose on the glass. 

"Well, obviously they have their species name of Chaetodon Ephipippium but in English," he paused, slightly embarrassed now that he was here with her. He took a deep breath, remembering what Selene had instructed him, be bold, be brave, be daring."In English it's a Pretty Penny."

She blinked, unprepared for the wave of emotion his information provoked. He'd named them after her. These beautiful, unique creatures he'd created would forever be a reminder of just how special he was. 

"That's…well…it's very flattering, and they are certainly very pretty," Penelope turned her head, hoping he wouldn't see her blush. She didn't know what to say, how to react. 

Gordon's eyebrows drew down in a frown, did she not like them? Had he been wrong? Be bold, be brave…He reached out a hand and cupped her chin gently, turning her back to face him. 

"Do you not like them?" 

She covered his hand with hers, managing a shaky smile. "No, I love them."

"Then what's the problem?" 

"We can't, we can't do this, not now." She gently pulled his hand away and set it aside. 

"Why not? Give me one good reason?" he refused to let go of her hand. "Just one. Tell me you don't want me and I'll back off."

"What about finding your father? The launch of the new Zero-X?" 

"That isn't a reason not to, that's a reason to take every chance we can and act on it. We don't know what we're going to find up there, if we will even find anything at all. If this and International Rescue itself has taught us anything, it's that life is too short and too unpredictable to waste opportunities by being cautious and scared. You have to grab your happiness with both hands."

"This could change things between us, and not for the better." 

"Or it could make it more amazing. Look at John, he took a leap of faith and I've never seen him happier. I want that, Penny, I want that with you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewellery box, opening it to reveal a natural pearl, carved into the shape of a seashell, strung on a delicate gold chain. 

"What do you say Valentine? Will you be mine?" 

His handsome face was full of hope but also wariness, fear of rejection. Would it be so bad to risk her heart on one such as he? Gordon was a joker, he rarely ever took anything seriously, but here he was, the most sincere she'd ever seen him.

He was one of the good guys, he saved people, he didn't hurt them. He was worth taking a risk for.

"Tell me you don't want me," he whispered again, a plea for her to tell him the truth. She was powerless to resist. 

"I can't," she whispered back as she moved closer. 

His lips brushed hers in the softest of kisses, his mouth catching her little sigh of relief as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to tell them no, no one but them. 

No matter what happened in the future, good or bad, they would always have this moment, they would have each other, and the world would have the pretty little fishes that floated outside their little sub of solitude. 

[oodlenoodleroodle]

https://www.npr.org/transcripts/530726335?storyId=530726335

Yesterday I listened to this episode of NPR’s Invisibilia podcast from 2017 about emotions, and it has some things that are very relevant to conversations about trauma, and I really wanted to share it and I know people aren’t going to go listen to a random podcast episode while they are scrolling tumblr, so I’m just gonna quote from the transcript:

SPIEGEL: Lisa Feldman Barrett is a psychology professor at Northeastern University. And for a very particular kind of person - and I'm going to grant you it is a very, very particular kind of person - Lisa is kind of a rock star because she's someone who has come up with a new mind-blowing way of thinking about emotion. Which is why Hanna and I were super excited to talk to her. And she was excited to talk to us, too - kind of.

BARRETT: Other than the pieces on emotion, I'm a totally big fan [of the podcast].

(LAUGHTER)

SPIEGEL: According to Lisa Barrett, the show that you are listening to right now, INVISIBILIA, has consistently portrayed emotion and how emotions work incorrectly. But in our defense, the reason why we've been wrong, at least according to Lisa, is because the whole culture is wrong. We think wrong about emotions, where they come from and how they work because the way that we experience the world makes it very, very hard to think right about them.

BARRETT: How I would describe what's actually happening will not make sense to people, right? It will seem really counter-intuitive to people.

SPIEGEL: So let's begin the catalogue of wrongness with this, what Lisa says is the very first thing we are taught about emotions that is wrong.

BARRETT: Emotions are built into your brain at birth.

SPIEGEL: We've been told this over and over again, that we are wired to feel X or that evolution has wired us to feel Y because our forbearers on the African savannah had to survive, needed to respond instantly and appropriately to big bad lions and hungry tigers.

BARRETT: So there's a stimulus...

SPIEGEL: Roar!

BARRETT: ...Which triggers a circuit inside you...

SPIEGEL: Holy...!

BARRETT: ...Which causes a bodily response in you...

SPIEGEL: (Gasps).

BARRETT: ...Which then causes you to behave in a particular way.

SPIEGEL: Run!

BARRETT: You know, they're not exactly seen as reflexes, but they're as close to reflexes as you might get. If the stimulus is there, the response is obligatory. That's the view. It's an automatic reaction to the world.

SPIEGEL: Now, according to this view, you can choose how you respond to the emotion that's been triggered. You can suppress it, reframe it, make a photo collage about it. But the initial emotion itself, that is universally programmed. There is nothing you can do.

BARRETT: It just seems absolutely preposterous that an emotion could be anything other than a reaction because in a moment where someone bursts into your house with a gun, there is very little that doesn't seem like a reaction. You know, it's such a strong feeling. It feels like you've been hijacked.

ROSIN: And to me anyway, there is something profound and hopeful in this way of thinking.

SPIEGEL: It's such a beautiful and connecting idea that we all share emotions. I mean, it's the kind of idea if you cut us, we bleed. If our children die, we cry.

ROSIN: That is literally the Coke ad, right? It's the Coke ad which takes you around the world and everybody smiles.

(Singing) I'd like to buy the world a home and furnish it with love.

SPIEGEL: We all smile when we're happy and so know the meaning of a smile when we see it in the face of someone else. Even if their skin is a different color or their culture feels strange, we know what they feel. Emotion is our universal language.

(Singing) I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company.

SPIEGEL: But this - apparently - is not what 25 years of studying emotion has taught Lisa. Basically you're saying, not so much?

BARRETT: For every emotion category that we have in the U.S. that we think is biologically basic and universal, there's at least one culture in the world that doesn't really possess a concept for that emotion and where people don't really feel that emotion.

SPIEGEL: Fear, sadness, anger, surprise, disgust, happiness - for Lisa, there is nothing inevitable about these emotions or any emotions, including the emotion of despair.

SPIEGEL: How many emotions do you feel in a day? Recently, I found myself wondering. This morning, I woke up insecure about my worth. But by the time I got to the shower, which is about 10 feet away from where I sleep, there had been a subtle shift. I was cycling between regretful and angry.

Later at the coffee store, some music on the speakers above my head during my walk out helped me feel determined. I was energized and ready to take on the world. If I had a square jaw, it would have been set. All day long, these emotions wash over me, hundreds of them - thousands of them? I've never counted but I always seem to be feeling them.

BARRETT: Yes, they're seen as happening to you - right? - not something that you yourself make.

SPIEGEL: But that's not how Lisa sees it. Lisa is one of the most respected researchers in psychology right now, lead editor on an enormous tome on emotion. And her latest book, "How Emotions Are Made," is an attempt to synthesize emotion research from a variety of fields - neuroscience, biology, anthropology.

Which makes it hard to summarize in a pithy way, but if I had to boil it down, here's how I'd do it. The way emotion works is the opposite of what you think. Emotions aren't reactions to the world. Emotions actually construct the world.

I know, at first, it didn't make any sense to me, either. So let's start this explanation where science stories usually start these days, with the 3 pounds of meat between your ears and the very difficult job it must do all day long.

BARRETT: The reason why we have a brain is because we have to control the systems in our body. We have a tremendous number of systems.

SPIEGEL: You mostly aren't aware of all of the systems in your body that your brain is regulating.

BARRETT: Systems for glucose. We have systems for salt, systems for oxygen.

SPIEGEL: But if your brain decided to take a day off, kick back, go to the beach, you would definitely notice because you'd be dead.

BARRETT: A circulatory system.

SPIEGEL: So many systems, and all of them need to be managed perfectly in order for you to do anything - any single thing.

BARRETT: So, for example, your brain starts to change your blood pressure before you stand up because, you know, it has to make sure that blood gets to the brain with oxygen, otherwise you'll faint.

SPIEGEL: Which brings us to the obligatory fancy science word that I spent three weeks trying to pronounce correctly - interoception. Interoception?

BARRETT: Interoception is just your feeling of the sensations that come from the movements inside your body.

SPIEGEL: The easiest way to think about interoception is that it's the thing that senses the status of all these internal systems, monitors all the comings and goings. I think of it like an eye but inside your body, turned so it's looking at you.

In the same way that your eye takes in the world and then communicates what's going on to your brain, the interoception thingy surveys your body and then communicates what's going on with all these systems to your brain, only it doesn't do as thorough a job as your eye – for good reason.

BARRETT: You don't feel these sensations in very high fidelity in the way that you see things in the world with a lot of detail. And you can hear things often with a lot of detail, but you don't feel things from the inside of your body with a lot of detail because if you did, you would never pay attention to anything else in the world ever.

SPIEGEL: So your internal eye keeps things super stupid simple.

BARRETT: So the way your brain is wired is to feel interoceptive sensations - the sensations from our bodies - as simple feelings of pleasantness, unpleasantness, arousal, calmness.

SPIEGEL: That is literally all your internal eye can communicate, those four sensations.

BARRETT: Pleasantness, unpleasantness, arousal, calmness.

SPIEGEL: But all day long, it's sending your brain status updates like a teenager on Snapchat, only worse.

BARRETT: Pleasantness, unpleasantness, arousal, unpleasantness, calmness.

SPIEGEL: Feel sympathy for a moment for your brain. There it is, trapped in the dark, silent box of your skull. It's getting these updates about these important sensations in the body, but it doesn't know for certain what's causing them. That unpleasant loop in the stomach just then, was that because the body was hungry or because the man who just sat down across the table is insanely good looking?

BARRETT: Arousal, calmness.

How does it know what caused something when all it has are the effects of that thing? The answer is it has past experience, so it's guessing.

SPIEGEL: Whatever sensation you have in your body, the brain develops a theory - actually a whole bunch of theories - based on previous experience and then uses them to make a prediction about what is going on.

BARRETT: When you have an ache in your body, it asks the question essentially, you know, in this situation, in this context, the last time this happened, what was the cause of that ache? And that's really what concepts are. Concepts are your brain's using past experience in order to make sense of incoming sensory input.

SPIEGEL: OK. Let's pause on concepts because we need to talk about them and the role they play in how you feel. Your culture has a ton of emotional concepts. When you were little, a toddler, you learn them from your parents. You went to the park, and your mom and dad carefully explained to you that that feeling that you had when that two-bit kid in the red sneakers shoved you off the swing, that was anger. Acquaint yourself with that emotion, they counseled, it will likely play a major role in your teens.

SPIEGEL: Sometimes they told you not to be afraid.

SPIEGEL: Sometimes you simply watched how they responded - the contours of sadness and the things that prompted it, the experience of joy and how it was expressed. These were likely the first emotional concepts you learned but you went on. You learned regret. You learned determination. Then in college, you got introduced to the idea of schadenfreude, which during your 20s you practiced liberally.

BARRETT: That's correct.

SPIEGEL: And these concepts, these emotional concepts, they are the things that shape the raw sensations from your interoception thingy - those raw materials of pleasant, unpleasant, aroused, calm - into the actual emotions that you experience. And without these concepts, Lisa says, you wouldn't have any of the emotions that you think of as hardwired, even sadness, even fear, even all the other things that you think of as fundamental and wired into you.

BARRETT: And it's parallel for vision. For example, if you have no concepts, you will see bright and dark. You won't see objects. You know, we know this for a fact. There are people, for example, who have corneal damage or who have cataracts at birth. And then at some point in their adult life, they have a corneal transplant or their cataracts are removed, and we would imagine from the classical view that they would just be able to see everything, but they don't.

They don't see for days and sometimes weeks. And sometimes years there are things they can't see because they don't have concepts. Their brain has no past visual experience to make meaning of the visual sensations that they receive.

SPIEGEL: So all they see is light and dark?

BARRETT: All they see is light and dark.

SPIEGEL: So if you put an apple in front of them, what would it look like?

BARRETT: They wouldn't see an apple. They wouldn't even see an object.

SPIEGEL: You're saying that emotion works the exact same way? That...

BARRETT: Yes. I'm saying that instead of having blobs of light and dark, without concepts you will feel pleasant or unpleasant. You can feel pleasure. You can feel high arousal, being worked up. You can feel low activation, but you don't really feel anger, sadness, fear, disgust or any of the other emotions that we think of as being given to us by nature.

SPIEGEL: What Lisa is saying is that our concepts make the world. And it is hard to overstate how much this changes our idea of what is actually going on when we walk down the street. The usual idea is that you are taking in the true world around you and reacting to it, this real thing that exists outside of you.

But what she's saying is that everything around you is a blob until the concepts in your head shape it into a thing, and then you respond to the thing that you just created. The concepts themselves are the key.

BARRETT: Yes.

SPIEGEL: Now, if you watch the news, it's likely you've encountered a more contained version of the idea that concepts literally shape the world you see.

SPIEGEL: We've heard a lot about troubling police shootings of young black men or George Zimmerman pulling a gun on Trayvon Martin.

SPIEGEL: And part of the way that people talk about police shootings is that sometimes police are responding not to the reality of the people in front of them but to a stereotype in their head. Stereotypes are concepts. In this case, the concept that young black men are dangerous. Critics say it's that concept that shapes what the police see and can prompt them to pull the trigger when there is no actual need.

SPIEGEL: But what Lisa is saying is that concepts like these work in all of us all of the time. They take the blobs in front of us and shape them into what we see. And they take the blobs inside us and shape them into what we feel.

BARRETT: For better or for worse, experiences are constructed. And your emotional experience is not an indication of something objective about the event. That's just not true.

ROSIN: And here is the point of all this, according to Lisa.

BARRETT: That means that you have more control over your emotions than you might imagine. The horizon of control is much broader because.

ROSIN: Because concepts are not hardwired. We can change them. Ultimately, we have control.

BARRETT: Yes.

ROSIN: And this is not just a fun science fact, a trippy nugget you heard on a podcast. That's not what this is.

SPIEGEL: Like, essentially you're saying we have way more control over and therefore responsibility for our emotions.

BARRETT: Yes.

ROSIN: Control and responsibility for our emotions. It's such a puzzle. Control is fun. Who doesn't like control? But responsibility - much less fun, much, much less fun.

SPIEGEL: So if I have post-traumatic stress disorder, say, do I have control over that?

BARRETT: Well... Well, yes.

ROSIN: [Earlier in the podcast episode we told the story of] Tommy Jarrett, the trucker, [who] was traumatized [in a bad crash where a child died]. And if you look at it the court's way, Tommy's emotions start with Michael Jones, [the child’s father], who lost control of his car. But if you look at it Lisa's way, they start much earlier with the concepts in Tommy's head. In the culture where Tommy grew up, a farm in Alabama in the 1960s...

JARRETT: “A man should be strong enough to protect people.”

ROSIN: “A man should be in control of his truck and of himself. And if something goes wrong, it's his fault.” That was the underlying concept that caused Tommy to think he was a killer. So did the PTSD come from Michael Jones, or did it come from inside Tommy?

Even bringing up a question like this, it feels like a radical thing to do because we all like to assume that if we feel something, it tells us something true about the world, something that happened to me. But Lisa isn't saying that PTSD or trauma of any kind isn't real, or that people suffering shouldn't be recognized and relieved, or that we shouldn't address the individuals and systems that harm people.

She's just saying trauma isn't cancer or diabetes, where cells in your body have gone wrong. The problem has much more to do with concepts in your head created by and based in our culture. And those aren't inevitable. Those can be changed.

Lisa identifies herself as a progressive, so she really struggled when we talked about things like PTSD. But she had to admit that yes, her theory has obvious implications for lots of things in our society, even implications she doesn't like.

BARRETT: I see the risk in what I'm saying - right? - but science is science. And we have to - I feel like it's necessary to draw people's attention to what the science has to say. And in the proper context in society, in culture, people can debate the consequences. But I think, you know, I do think that it's very dangerous to treat things as objective when they're not.

SPIEGEL: Emotions are not objective. All kinds of emotions are not objective, even the emotions you have in response to a death.

...

ROSIN: So Tommy. How do we think about Tommy, his pain and the lawsuit? Lisa wants us to acknowledge that Tommy's pain, it wasn't an automatic inevitable response. It came from the concepts in his head. So does that mean he didn't deserve to win his case? Well, Lisa's just asking us to be more honest. We can say yes, it partly came from in his own head, but we as a society still think it's fair and just that he be compensated.

BARRETT: The point is that we can acknowledge the perceptions are constructed or we can ignore it and just keep doing what we're doing anyways. I think it would be much fairer if we just acknowledged how our brains actually work.

ROSIN: Our brains rely on concepts, and concepts make our world, our culture, our systems. Which is why it's useful to know which concepts are shaping us and which ones we're passing on to each other and to our children.

ROSIN: And you know what? If we make these concepts, we can unmake them. But even if we don't choose to do that, even if we decide to build the world just exactly as we've built it down to the very last brick, there in the back of our heads when we experience something that disturbs us can hover a liberating thought - this feeling I have, it doesn't have to be this way. There is nothing inevitable about the world that is.

BARRETT: You have more control over your own experience. You become more the architect of your own experience.

ROSIN: And that's exactly what Tommy did. We met up with him 10 years after the lawsuit. He ended up getting $50,000 from the court. Half went to the lawyers. And in the end, Amanda's insurance company covered it.

These days, Tommy's feeling much better. His life is great now, he says so himself. About a year after the accident, he started driving again. Now, he has his own trucking company and a motorcycle which he and his wife ride out West when they can. About the whole awful period after the accident, he understands one thing for sure now.

JARRETT: My emotions wasn't being true to me. I had every right to be upset and be hurt and distraught. I didn't need to keep telling myself that I was a killer.

ROSIN: That emotion that the court had validated, it felt real, but it wasn't telling him anything real about the world. Tommy realized that basically because he did exactly what Lisa Feldman Barrett says people should do when they feel like a powerful emotion is controlling them. He took this construct which had been in his head since he was a kid, that as a good man and a ninja of a driver he should have been able to prevent the accident.

ROSIN: And he learned a new construct. It took him a long time, more than a year, and a lot of work. And he had help from his family and from a therapist because changing the concepts we've grown up with and absorbed all of our lives is not easy at all. But eventually, Tommy did it.

He replaced his old concept with a new one that led him to the actual truth. He was not a killer. Because when that car skidded across the median, there was nothing he could have done. The new concept? Sometimes a man is not, in fact, in control.

[runenc03]

Superstar pt. 2

Writing date: November 2018

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

**********************************************

"Hawaii? Are you being serious?"

Kylie was finally back home. And just as she promised, Kaycee had gotten her 'real' birthday gift, because she had guessed all the records correctly.

Apparently, her sister had managed to book her a trip to Hawaii. For 5 days. And she could take 2 friends.

"You're not kidding me, right?", Kaycee asked, just to be sure.

"Kayc, really, do you think I'd joke about something li-"

But Kaycee had cut her sister off, knocking the air out of Kylie's lungs with the biggest hug possible.

They laid together for some time, just appreciating eachother's presence. But a question was burning on Kaycee's tongue.

"Hey, Kylie?"

"Mh?"

"Did you really talk to Sean about superstar?"

"Of course I did. It was quite the interesting conversation. Really educational."

Kaycee turned her head towards her sister.

"What are you talking about? What did he say? Did he talk about me? Tell me Kylie!"

But she realised that she shouldn't have asked that last question. Kylie had gotten a dangerous gleam in her eyes, and a smirk playing around her lips.

"Well, I asked him what kind of song I had to look for, and at first, he stayed really silent. But then he suddenly got this really determined expression on his face, looked me right in the eyes and told me to pick out a lovesong. I was quite shocked at first, I mean, we all know he's been practically drooling over you since you were 12 or something, but I hadn't expected him to be so open about it to me. So I asked him again to be sure, and he said -and believe me Kayc, I'm litteraly quoting him here- that he wanted me to look for something that screamed "I'm crazily in love with you!'

Now, Kaycee turned her whole body towards Kylie, looking at the older girl with big eyes.

"And you're only telling me this now? Jesus Christ, Kylie, if only I had known this earlier!! I always thought he was just joking, his flirting is so...obvious. I never....I- I need to see him. Now. Do you know where he is?"

"Well, yes, bu-"

"Where is he? Tell me Kylie!"

"He's at the recording studio, but I really don't think it's a g-"

"Thanks Kylie, love you!"

"Kaycee, wai-"

But Kaycee had already shut the door.

Little did she know that Sean too, was preparing his real birthday gift for her.

***

As soon as she arrived at the recording studio, she parked her bike and sprinted towards the door. Upon entering, she noticed a woman sitting behind a desk. The woman had a grim expressing on her face and clearly wasn't in the mood for annoying questions from 16-year olds, but Kaycee didn't register any of that.

She was way too busy getting to Sean.

"Excuse me ma'am, I'm looking for Sean Lew. Do you know in which room he is?"

The woman looked at her with a bored expression.

"He is in record room 8. However, I cannot let you enter without permis-"

But Kaycee had already left the hall, leaving the woman in an even worse mood.

At first, Kaycee ran through the corridor, looking for the door with an artistic looking 8 on it. When she finally found the right door, her first idea was to open that door and throw herself at Sean, but just before she was about to do that, a raspy voice could be heard from the other side of the wall.

"Really good, Sean, really good."

"Thank you. I really want to make this as good as possible. Only the best for Kaycee."

"She must be really special, for you to put so much effort in writing all those tracks..."

"She is, Matt. She's worth every single second of this album. God, I'd give her the moon and the stars if I was able to."

Kaycee was absolutely shocked. There were no other words to describe it. She knew he was planning on recording his debut album, and she knew that he had written a few love songs as well, but she never could've guessed that he had written a complete album for her.

Kaycee was so lost in thoughts that she didn't hear the raspy voice, 'Matt', ask which song they were going to record next, but Sean's deep, smooth one would always get her attention...

"Uhh...more than friends? It's the most important track on the album so I want to take my time on that one. We really have to finish it today."

"Sounds good to me. Let's begin!"

Kaycee knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she couldn't help it. 'Besides,' she reasoned with herself, 'every girl would get curious when their crush was singing a song called more than friends for her'

Carefully, as to not make much noise, she crept even closer to the door and laid her right ear against it.

It feels like we've been friends forever

And we always see eye to eye

Kaycee got a lump in her throat. This was really about them. Only now her shock began slightly fading away, she seemed to realise that this was all real. Sean was really making an album for her on the other side of the door. That album really was about them.

This was all really happening.

The more time we spend together

And the more I wanna say what's on my mind.

Kaycee felt a silent tear escape her eye. It all came crashing down on her so suddenly. This song was beautiful. Everything, from Sean's rich voice to the lyrics that fit the two of them so well. It was perfect.

Take it easy

'Cuz it ain't easy to say

I wanna be more than friends

I wanna be more than friends

And suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't just stay there, secretely hidden behind a door.

She couldn't handle the distance between them. She had to be close to him, physically. She needed him.

She had to see him.

Without thinking about any of the consequences that were bound to happen, she threw open the door that separated her from Sean and began marching towards him with big strides.

Sean however, was too engrossed in his song to hear her. The only thing on his mind was the thought that he had to make this perfect for his girl.

He didn't notice her, until she made her presence clear. In a special way.

I wanna tell everyone you're taken

and take your hand until the end

I wanna be mo-MHPF"

Kaycee had done what she did best: cutting people off. However, she hadn't done that by running away like all the previous times.

She had cut Sean off by kissing him.

Square on the lips.

The young girl hadn't really known what she was doing, this being her first kiss. She had just thrown herself at him, showing her feeling through her actions. Her arms had automatically wrapped themselves around Sean's neck, slightly tugging him downwards.

And then, their lips had touched.

She had felt him freeze completely, shocked about what was happening. She'd been about to pull away and apologize to him for scaring him like this, but her brain suddenly hadn't worked anymore.

Because Sean Lew had kissed her back.

She'd felt his hands move to her hair, felt his fingers weave themselves through her curly locks.

Felt his lips respond to hers.

They'd moved together, perfectly in sync. She had been so close to him that she'd been able to smell him, a perfect mix of autumn and steamed milk and something incredibly masculine she couldn't really place, and his lips had felt soft against hers, and a bit wet, but not overly so, and it was all way too much, but not enough.

It was just as she had imagined it would be.

In all truth, she'd wanted to stand there forever, surrounded by his strong arms, tasting him.

Unfortunately, there was something called oxygen, which forced her to pull away from his lips

But she wasn't about to let go of Sean so soon.

Immediately after their lips parted, she burried her head in his chest, slightly embarassed but also feeling euphoric about what just had happened.

She felt his arms tightening around her, one around her back, while the other gently cradled her head. A smile crept it's way to her face. They stood there, together, basking in each others warmth. It felt so right.

You could hear a pin drop, until finally, Sean said something.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but what was that?"

Kaycee slightly lifted her head so she could see Sean's face. Her cheeks were still red from being kind of embarrassed, but she felt like she was past the tomato-phase, so she dared to look at him.

"I talked to Kylie."

A look of comprehension dawned on Sean's face.

"Ahh. I guess you finally realised how I feel about you then? I must say, I was getting desperate, Kayc. I thought you really saw me as nothing else than your dance partner, but judging by what you just did...", he trailed off, grinning like crazy.

Kaycee lightly punched him in the chest, but couldn't contain the grin on her own face, either.

"Hey! You can't blame me! I thought you didn't mean any of the flirting, it just seemed way too obvious. I thought you were just teasing me, trying to see how much I would blush at your comments. And, well, I guess I just convinced myself over time that you would never see me as something else than your dance partner..."

She had begun her speech in typical Kaycee Rice style: full of fire, with a light in her eyes. But gradually, she had began spilling out her insecurities, and now, she didn't even want to look at him. Again, she burried her head in Sean's chest, where she felt the safest.

No matter how much Sean loved having 'his' girl in his arms, he was having none of this hiding.

"Love, look at me."

He gently laid 2 fingers under her chin and guided her face upwards.

"I have never, ever seen you as 'just' my dance partner. You've always been so much more than that. You still are. God, Kaycee, you're my everything. I might sound cheesy now, but I've been waiting so long for a chance to tell you how I feel...yes, you are my dance partner, but you're also my best friend, my light, my beauty, my world, my biggest inspiration, my main reason to keep going,...the list is endless, love."

By now, Kaycee's head was spinning. She gazed in Sean's eyes, looking for a something that indicated that he was joking, but all she saw was honesty.

And love. Such raw and pure love that it made her head spin even more.

"Sean, I-I"

But she was distracted by the way his eyes seemed to flicker towards her lips. She understood what he was trying to do, and closed her eyes, longing to feel what she had felt during their first kiss for a second time. Her head slightly tilted, she began leaning in, closer to him...

"Ahem. I'm sorry to interrupt such a pure moment, but the studio is closing in half an hour. Sean, if you want to finish that song today, we really should continue now. And as for you, miss, I think this is supposed to be a surprise, so maybe, you know,..."

Kaycee suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the lack of tact of the man. He was trying to get her to leave the studio. She wasn't happy with that, but she had to admit that she kind of understood the man, she would be uncomfortable as well if 2 teenagers were shamelessly making out in front of her.

Knowing that she shouldn't stay too long, Kaycee quickly stood on her tiptoes to kiss Sean's cheek and turned around to leave.

She hadn't even taken 2 steps, when she felt a warm hand grasp her wrist.

"Kayc, wait. Do you want to watch friends tonight at mine? As a date, this time?"

Again, Kaycee's eyes filled with tears. She didn't know why, although she suspected that it had something to do with the fact that her long time crush and best friend had just asked her out on a date.

And she was grateful for the fact that he was her best friend as well. He knew her like no-one else did, maybe he knew her even better than she did herself.

He knew that she didn't want to go to a fancy restaurant and dress up for hours to go on a date. He knew that she'd much rather cuddle before the tv with a cup of hot cocoa.

"I'd love to."

She saw a huge smile grow on his face, his dimples showing.

"Great. See you then, Kayc"

"Yeah, bye Shamu"

She walked out of the recording studio, determined to thank Kylie for giving her the final push she needed, but before she was too far away, she heard Sean's voice again.

She really couldn't help but linger.

I'm asking you to be my baby

I'm giving you my heart, don't break it

I'm crushing and I'm going crazy

Either way I know we'll make it

I know, I know, I know we'll make it

And Kaycee knew it, too. They were going to make it. Only this time around, they didn't have to hide their feelings for each other anymore.

They could finally be more than friends.

[damnusernamesuggestion-blog]

"Oh dark mother, once again I suckle at your smoky tit." - Gunther*

It was about a couple months before New Year. November downpours, though intermittent, were sudden and quite intense. I was in desperate need of a new raincoat.

I drink quite a lot of coffee, and have a few favourite coffee corners not far from my apartment building. I could just have one favourite place, and it used to be just one, before my life became so complicated like it is now. Everyday, depending on the the amount of free time I have, or the work I need to get done, I would visit one of the three or four places, the one I think best suit my needs. That day, I went to the cafe where they serve lunch.

It was a terribly long time since I last saw her, (you know, with the pandemic and stuff). That day, she was still in the same uniform/dress, doing promotion for the cigarette brand C. For all the 'thanks' she gave me a while ago when I bought from her, she didn't seem to recognize me at all, which for me is most perfectly understandable. You know how there’s a paradox for almost every thing in the world. Suppose forgetability is gradable (it is, if you think about the various disease that can plague our fragile brains), then human interaction, I think, is so fucked up that the more unforgettable someone is, the more forgetful they tend to be. Think about the grudges you’ve been holding against someone your entire life, and they don’t even remember who you are. Anyway, I could remember her quite well, so I guessed it’s only natural she had no memories of me. 

I guess this is where people would normally describe how she look. Very good-looking, she is, because I’m terrible at describing people. I want to add that she’s not yet old, but no longer too young that the world around her manifests itself into square non-transparent boxes, small and large, with question marks painted on them.

She started by introducing the products to the males sitting around the coffee house without much luck.

'How much is it?' an old man asked.

She gently explained the discounted prices, '15k for the small pack, 22 for the big one.' The old man shook his head and turned away. He was sitting about a meter from me. I was still with food in my mouth when she turned to me and started the pitch. I took a guff of iced tea.

'I'll take the small one.' I said, didn’t want her to waste her breath.

It was part of her job or something, she helped me open the pack and took the inner wrapping foil. 'To report,' she explained.

'Yeah! It's okay. Don't you remember me? You sold those ciggies to me before.'

'Oh really? Where?'

I reminded her of the old coffee shop named S. To which she answered, 'Oh! I do sell ciggies there.' 

'Is there any gift-giving?' the old man's voice was once again heard. He was a man no less than 60 years of age, trying to đẩy đưa with the promotion girl whose products he clearly had no intentions to buy but kept on khen chê.

'For four big packs, you get a free rain coat.' She carried on dutifully.

Wait! Did I just hear a free raincoat? 'May I have a look?' My eyes shone.

[Well, if you don't know me personally, I'm rather tall and as thin as a toothpick. Gotta be extra careful about choosing the right size, for almost all the things that I put on my body.]

'Just a sec,' she said and then got back to her trunk before reappearing with a big-ass raincoat of a simple color scheme and a the C-brand logo on the back. I couldn't have been happier. It was such a bargain. She just simply gave me the four packs and I paid. She was folding it but I told her there was no need. 'Let me get you a carrier bag, at least.' she said and then made another trip to her bike.

It was during that extremely narrow window of time that the dirty old man managed to turn to me with a nasty grin, 'What good is a raincoat, cho người không thì cho, ha?'

It struck me on one of those rare occasion when I feel the strong urge to proclaim myself an elite, simply because the average man was so nauseating, but somehow I swallow it. Still, It was I who was hopelessly naive. Turned out the bastard didn’t mean to say that to me. He was just rehearsing the brilliant string of words that had just came up in his mind. As soon as she walked back to us, he , 'Thằng em này nói, cho áo mưa mà làm gì, cho người thì lấy chứ.'

I was at a loss for words, staring at her blankly, secretly thinking, ‘well worst case scenario, she thinks I’m an asshole. But perhaps the old bastard was just saying something we ‘civilized’ people had been working so hard to repress and deny; I mean, he’s 60 and I’m not even half way there so what do I know; perhaps she’s got something for me ... who knows?’

But she cut him off and told him, without looking, that she knew it wasn’t me.

She ordered a coffee and hanged about for a little while to write up the reports, in her own corner. I stole a couple more glances before she finally put on her ninja attire and headed to her bike, not forgetting to tell me how to use the scented side of the pack to get rid of the ciggy smell on my fingers on her way out. Last time she did that, at S, she also thanked me for being nice, ‘you know... the guy sitting there was quite mean.’

And that's the story of why if you see me on the street during the rainy hours these days, it is highly likely that I will be wearing the C-brand raincoat. Oh, and dark mother, for a full week after that I suckled at her C-branded, gum-flavoured tit. 

*It was a reference to the Freudian notion of oral fixation. 

[1dimagineclub]

Dirty Harry Imagine

🚫 WARNING 18+ PLZ 🚫

“Smirks, Smiles & Innocence”

A smirk was one of the famously recognized traits they shared. A simple look, really; small right uplift of the lips, beaming (mischievous) gleam in the eyes. Smirks were simple to replicate, but complex to master. That’s why, they assumed, everyone made such a deal about it. When, really, it just came naturally to them. Sometimes she’d be pictured smirking after reading some challenging, competitive yet somehow flirtatious text he’d sent to her - sometimes she just smirked thinking of him.  

He, on the other hand, simply smirked at everything. But, when it came to smirking for her, it was much different. Smirking directly at her, eyes locked and lips licked, was more of a radiantly condescending, arrogant smirk. She’d simply smirk back in cockiness - he couldn’t get to her, no matter how good his breath smelled as those perfectly plump lips inched closer to her rather dry ones. Nonetheless, she smirked not missing a beat; totally and completely unfazed.  But, when it came to smirking at something about her, it was a much different look. Though arrogance still glowing, it was more of an admiring smirk. If that’s even possible. Really, it was just a lazy, lopsided smile. But the eyes told all and nothing at once; they beamed with a different kind of emotion, his normal wide-eyed gaze turned into something of a hooded, gleaming glance. All at once, it became something of a competition for them. Something like, ‘whose smirk looks best’ or ‘who can “rock” the smirk better’.

Of course, at some point, the local - and global - media caught on. Star-crossed ‘lovers’ taking the front page every week or so in money-thirsty headlines: 

‘Sin of the Smirk: Who’s the real seducer here?’

Or 

‘Seducing Smiles: Who wore it better? Model or Styles?’  

And many other cheesy headlines they’d both laugh at privately, secretly rooting for the other to win because, well to be honest, they really liked each other. But their relationship never sprouted into anything more - the countless stare downs of green into blue, whether cocky or not, the small breathless pants of desire when lips were just inches from touching, the private laughs of intimate and perverted times - no, they never made anything of it. Though, social media sure wished they did. The relentless pestering of their true relationship behind doors was never much answered the way magazines wanted.  “

So, I hear you and that Styles kid, what’s that all about?” 

“Us?” Genuine laugh of humor, “No, no, I think you’ve got it all wrong! We’re just friends! Never more!” 

“I see you’ve got your eye on that cute little model, haven’t you?” 

“Oh, no. She’s not my girl to have.” 

“Oh? Then who is?” 

“I’m not sure anyone is, at the moment.” Her. “Hmm, for some reason I just don’t believe you.”That’s because you shouldn’t. “Take it for what you will.” Charming wink.  

And they’d watch that specific part of each other’s interviews on constant replay - her heart fluttering, and sinking, at his use of ‘my girl’, no matter the connotation; his sinking in the automatic answer, spurted out thoughtlessly in breathless humor. Yeah, they liked each other. And she was getting damn tired of hiding it from him. So she plotted and planned until it was at the point of absolute perfection. She plotted and schemed and ran the whole operation till the last second and made nothing of her efforts - she was a wimp. 

 He called her late that Friday night, as usual, and asked if she’d enjoy a nice drink with him. She, of course, declined his offer; she’d much rather be at home watching Bambi than out watching him work his up charm on unsuspecting girls. No, she’d much rather stay in and lounge about in her jammies all alone in the darkened house. Frustrated, as usual, he headed straight for her house and barged in without second thought - she nearly never locked her door. But, of course, her movie was too loud for her to hear the slamming of doors and rattling of windows, and she was too invested in the movie to care. 

“Hey, boo.” He whispered into her ear from behind, smirk holding that humorous edge.  

She jumped. “Damnit Harry! I thought I told you to quit scaring me already!”  

“And I thought I told you to lock your doors at night.” He bit back through humorous laughs that left him breathless. She sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest and snuggling her teddy for dear life. After quite some time she could feel his eyes burning into the side of her skull and tossed a pillow at him, mumbling a small, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer." To which he countered, "Oh, darling, I’d like to take more than just a picture.” or something about just finding one on google when she glared. She threw another pillow at him.  

“Hey! Easy there, I was only joking!” He laughed. She didn’t meet his gaze as it turned thoughtful, head cocking in that sideways tilt it always did when he took to admiring something.  

“What are you staring at, Styles?” She still didn’t turn, her focus zeroed in on poor little Bambi climbing the rigid cliff side in the pouring rain for dear life. Poor old thing. He let out a small breath of amusement - the kind that indicated an almost laugh - as he stared at her small figure cuddle up within itself; knees to chest, arms wrapped ‘round legs and so on. His smile didn’t let up. “You.”  Her head whipped to face him, her eyes pulling from the telly screen after a few reluctant seconds. ”I’m sorry?”  

“I just don’t get how you watch this movie all the time and never get tired of it, hell, you still cry and jump!” Truthfully, it was something he really admired. “Shut up, will you?” She giggled, tossing yet another pillow at him. It hit him square in the forehead. Her arm pulled back ready to launch the next but was unable to lift before he took hold of her wrist, ultimately causing the pillow to fall from her grasp. “Hey!” She yelled through laughs, trying to kick her way out. His grip didn’t let. 

Pulling back only slightly, hand still wrapped around her wrist, he smirked at her; a private indication of utter victory. She wasn’t having it; she forced another kick at him nearly hitting his gut - but he was far too fast for her. Dropping her wrist, he clutched onto her ankle before reeling her in forcefully under his leaning body. She squealed and clawed at the couch in search of aid, but soon enough he was leaning over her with that winning smile of his. She was stunned, by his beauty or his actions she couldn’t tell which, but nonetheless, stunned. Her outside leg was half draped over his hip as the other was folded across his lap, her face showed something of pure innocence; a doe-eyed look his heart couldn’t help but flutter at, her hair fanned out perfectly - or so he would describe - beneath her perfect little head. She was splayed out underneath of him and he couldn’t help the thoughts that occurred in his rather messed up brain. 

“(Y/N),” He whispered almost breathlessly, flushed in the face. She was staring up at him with wide eyes. He took a shaky breath, “(Y/N), I want to kiss you.” He paused leaning in slightly, his gaze upon her lips. “May I?” She nodded slightly, not quite trusting her voice to keep. He nodded too, mumbling a small “Okay” as his gaze flicked between her eyes and lips. The lead up was slow and heart racing; eyes carefully on eyes and curiously on lips. But when he was finally close enough that their lips just brushed over each other’s, warm, small breaths of excitement and gasps of expectancy - he couldn’t keep himself from pressing his lips forcefully onto hers, eyes shut and heart stuttering. It was something too real for either of them to have ever thought up or imagined - they’d both thought about it once or twice, maybe even dreamed about it, but it was never close in comparison to the real thing.  

At first it’s only the warm movement of lips on lips, slow and sensual - just like a first kiss should be. And after they’d been kissing like that for a few turns of the head, Harry slowly licked across her bottom lip and then into her mouth when she parts them for him. Soon the kiss became all teeth, tongue, and lip, breaths meshing and bodies moving as hands roamed. Harry pulled away, kissing her cheek and down the column of her neck to the dip of her collarbone. Her hands continued their roaming and she bunched up the bottom of Harry’s shirt, gasping and panting as Harry worked his lips against her skin. She clawed against the sides of his stomach as she lifted the hem of his shirt. Harry got the idea, sitting up and taking his shirt before tossing it somewhere on the floor. He leaned in again, kissing her lips and bunching up her shirt at the hem before pulling away and tugging it off.  

“Have a shoot tomorrow?” He asked, kissing at the swell of her breasts softly, hands gripping at the sides of her stomach. 

“Y-yeah. I do.” She got out, panting softly and running her fingers through his hair.  

“How much skin?” He was kissing at the underside of her jaw then, nipping and licking softly. 

“It’s a lingerie shoot. Proper lace and all.” She moaned, hands carding through his hair. 

“Hmm,” He hummed, “Do you get to keep any?” He licked at the cut of her jaw, pulling up and meeting her eyes.  

“Yeah,” She nodded, eyes wide and hair disheveled, “Yeah, every model gets a pair."  

He nodded, leaning in and planting a kiss on her lips, smiling cheekily. “Then I guess it won’t matter if we make you look a little more authentic in your little outfits, yeah?” And before she could say anything more Harry was already at the swell of her left breast, being the cup back and sucking a love bite into her skin. She gasped at the feeling - pain and pleasure - as his lips sucked on the bitten skin, his tongue soothing over it just after. ”Has anyone ever done this for you?” He asked, trailing kisses down the length of her stomach.  

She snorted, running her hands in his hair. “What, given me love bites?” He paused, lifting his head only slightly to meet her eyes. 

"Gone down on you.” Her breath hitched at Harry’s words, eyes widening and cheeks flushing. He continued trailing his lips south, pulling the band of her jammies and pants down just enough to reveal her right hipbone, looking up deviously as he sucked on the skin there as well. She gasps.  

“No, not really.” Her hands are back in his hair as pulls her jammies down, leaving her in her black lace pants. She let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Guess that’s what I get for only picking selfish lovers."  Harry leans up, kissing her softly on the lips and pulling away with a sly, but sincere, smile on his lips. 

"I’m not a selfish lover.” His eye dropped in a wink and soon he was kissing down her body, scraping his teeth at the skin of her hip. He kissed it after, trailing his kisses across the hem of her knickers until he was met with the bow in the middle. He bit at it, pulling it back then letting it snap back against her skin. Harry was a proper tease. Spreading her legs as far as the couch will let him, he pressed his thumbs into the column of her inner thighs, kissing above her clit against the lace. 

“So, tell me how your day was.” He said, aiming to make this as teasing, torturous, and pleasurable as possible. (Y/N) was shocked.   

“Harry, I-” 

“Tell me how your day was, (Y/N). I want to know.” Harry commanded softly. She gulped and nodded. 

“Right, well, I -ah.” Harry’s tongue had swept along the length of her vagina. His eyes flicked to hers when she stopped and she immediately continued, averting her gaze and running her fingers anxiously through his hair. “I went on a date this morning at the cafe just down the street, you know which one I’m talking about?” Harry sucked lightly above her clit, the heat of his mouth radiating through her knickers. He met her eyes approvingly. She huffed a meager laugh. “Well the coffee was great, I’ll tell you that much - ow!” Her eyes shot open as Harry bit at her clit. 

"And the date? How was he?” Harry asked, nonchalant despite the obvious amount of lust and jealousy in his eyes. 

“She, she was great. Great little mini date with my manager indeed.” Harry pulled the band of her pants and let them snap. She cringed, very much turned on. Finally Harry decided it time to take them off after reaching up and planting a soft kiss on her lips, mumbling a soft “Sounds like a great day”, with a little twinkle in his eye that had her wondering if they could do this forever - this little game of husband and wife. (A little bit of lust included wasn’t so bad either.) And when he pulled back he was nothing but loving, planting soft, wet kisses at the jut of her hips and down the length of her thigh as her knickers were trailed off. Her eyes were wide and almost innocent when Harry met them again, pulling the lace carefully off her foot and dropping it to the floor, eyes on hers the entire time. They never once strayed from hers as he planted slow, teasing kisses along the insides of her thighs, holding he legs apart carefully by the knee, his hair tickling lightly at the disheveled fringe. She swore she could’ve came from just that, all riled up and watching Harry rile her up even more. 

“You ready, baby?” He whispered softly against the skin of her thigh, trailing his lips up inch by inch until he was met with her heat. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t speak, so she gulped and nodded instead, tugging at the ends of his hair lightly in anxiousness. He leaned down, placing a kiss softly on her clit as his lust-filled eyes stared deeply into hers. She wasn’t expecting the touch - or the feeling of, rather - all too captivated by Harry and his expert lead up. Her eyes fluttered shut against the contact and she let out a moan, pulling at his hair in pure ecstasy. 

“More.“ She gasped out as he began suckling her clit. His eyes were on hers and sometimes she would meet his gaze briefly only to shut them again and moan to the skies over his tongue, flicking to the beat of its own tune. She didn’t know why or how or what but she knew she never wanted it to end. Harry continued his licking, a mix between a lazy lap and expert routine of flick, lick, and suckle. She felt his breath against her, cooling the heat that was overbearing and ready to explode. He continued this cycle for a little while longer until he was sure she could hold it no more, pulling away pressing a kiss to the cut of her jaw as she whined - she swears she was on the verge of tears. 

"Suck.” He said softly, holding three fingers to her lips. Eyes wide and red - apparently she was on the verge of tears - she wrapped her lips around them submissively as he trailed his kisses down to her breast. Staring at him through watery eyes, she watched as his eyes fluttered at the sight of her bra, moving his other hand to the clasp in the front. His eyes met hers briefly, asking for permission to remove the last of her clothing from her as if she hadn’t already let him do worse things. Her heart fluttered at his patience and care, answering him through the lift of her chest into his palms. She was gripping at his wrist now, working the many skills she had learned from her raunchy past with selfish lovers on his fingers. It saddened her when he pulled them away, bringing them back down to her heat and thumbing softly at her clit. His eyes met hers lustfully as he sucked on her left nipple. Nipple play was always a weakness for her, coming easily when the stimulation was added. Her eyes fluttered shut against her will, biting back moans and thrashing about. She was putty in his hands when Harry added his two fingers to the mix, shoving them roughly into her as he sped up the movements of his thumb. He hummed happily against her nipple, then, seeing her reaction, moaned and sucked wetly, bringing Y/N to her first orgasm of the night. 

“Harry!” She called out, thrashing violently at the waves of her orgasm. If Harry was aiming to make this night memorable he’d just done it by giving her the best orgasm of her life. (Not counting the many more to come - pun intended.) When she was calmed and her vision was mostly there, she blinked her eyes open to a rather horny looking Harry, hard against her leg and hair properly disheveled around his flushed face. His lips were on hers in seconds, moving roughly and passionately in a clash teeth, lip, and tongue. 

“(Y/N), I know it’s not romantic or sweet of me to say, but, God, I really wanna fuck you.” He’s panting now, swollen lipped and flushed, and she’s nothing short of a blush, yanking him down by the collar of his shirt until their noses are touching. 

“Fuck me, Harry.” And Harry grows harder than ever, eyes dark and full of lust as he mashes their lips together forcefully. Bare and naked beneath him, she works at getting his clothes off him, ripping his coat from his shoulders and trying desperately to tug them down his arms before they’re both fighting the clothes he threw on easily in haste when he decided to come over, lips never losing touch. And when they’re finally down to his pants - somehow getting his skin tight jeans off without much fuss - he pulls away, breathless, combing her hair back and holding her face in his hands. His eyes are serious and worrying. 

"I haven’t got a condom.” He says. She pulls him in for another kiss, though this time short-lived, and whispers softly against his lips. “I’ll take the pill in the morning.” And that’s all Harry needs to know to before their lips meet again in a forceful kiss - passionate, rough, and wanting. He lays her down and she foots at the hem of his briefs, helping him tug them down. He works his length a bit, leaning into another kiss and holding his weight with one hand. Her hands tangled within the hair at the back of his neck, gripping, tugging, and flattening beneath her fingertips. When Harry enters her their kiss parts for a moment, both of them gasping at the sensation. 

“Harry,” She pleads, getting desperate. He leans in again, licking into her mouth as she encases the rest of him. They’re both breathless and panting, feeling at each other and occupying their mouths through chaste kisses and long snogs, separated only by gasps and moans. 

“‘I’m gonna go faster.” He states, his hips already beginning to speed up. She pulls him in for a kiss and moans into his mouth at the sound of their skin slapping, the head of his cock hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. He pulls away and sucks lightly under her jaw, attaching his lips to her earlier neglected nipple. 

She hums. “Harry.“ His thumb traces across her skin until he reaches her clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles before he speeds it up, pressing harder then bring it back down to soft and slow. It riles her up and makes her desperate all at once. Soon enough all that can be heard in the room is the slap of skin, the creak of the couch, and a string of ‘Harry, Harry, Harry’ in time with each thrust.

“Harry,” She pleads, “Please.” He pulls away from her nipple, bringing his hand up to press into it instead. She gasps soundlessly, chest rising, eyes wide, and words choked. 

He kisses her neck and collar bones, behind her ear. “How am I to compare to those selfish lovers of yours? Didn’t treat you this good, did they? Am I better than them, Y/N? Do I make you feel better than them?” She’s panting now, a sheen of sweat forming at her hairline as his curls bounce on her forehead, his thumb digging into her breast with every question. He’s licking at her ear when she finally answers. 

“Harry.” And it’s embarrassing, really, because his name seems to be the only thing she’s been able to say this entire time. He drags his teeth on her earlobe, pulling it slightly. “No,” He says, “Tell me.” She gasps when he moves his hand back to her clit, pressing into it. His eyes meet hers. “No one’s ever treated me like you, Harry. You make me feel so good, never felt this good before.” She’s panting - it’s not a lie. Her hands are gripping at his shoulders, the blunt tips of her fingers pressing into the skin there. She moans, gasping. “I love you, Harry. Always have.” And that’s not a lie either. Something changes in Harry’s eyes, but she can’t quite tell what. It’s of no matter in a few seconds anyway as Harry pulls back slowly, thrusting in with force and repeating it over and over until she’s writhing underneath him; stomach clenched, eyes shut, throat sore. Harry grunts at her warmth, speeding up again encouraged by the expression on her face and the bruises blooming at his shoulders. 

“I’m not - not gonna.” He tries, hissing and biting his lip at the pleasure. “Fuck, can I - I need to cum.” He pants, red faced, sweaty, and disheveled as he is, putting all of his strength into holding it back. She’s still panting, barely coming down from her own orgasm becoming oversensitive - and horny - again. 

"You gonna cum for me?” He nods silently. “Cum for me, Harry, cum inside of me.” He let’s out a breath of air, resting his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes before his own roll back in pleasure, his hips moving still. He grunts and she feels it when he spurts his load into her. He thrusts softly, weakly, a few times more before he stops, panting and staring at her staring at him. Too many thoughts are rushing through both of their heads right now, but the most prominent is of admiration. Harry tilts his head and plants a kiss on her lips, soft, slow, and passionate. Her arms wraps themselves around his neck and when he pulls away his curls tickle at her forehead. She giggles and he rests his forehead on hers again, panting softly. 

“I love you, too."  

They talk and cuddle after they’ve dressed in new clothes, (Y/N) reminding him of his clothes stash in some drawers upstairs should he ever become a hobo. Or sleep over, whichever comes first - pun unintended. They’re both laughing on the couch in jumpers and sweats - or, sweats for Harry and a jumper for (Y/N) - looking at each other admiringly. Harry talks first when they’ve both finished laughing. 

"Really, though, that front clasp thing really got me going. You know, I truly am the luckiest person in the world.” (Y/N) snorts. 

“Why? Because I chose ‘easy clasp’ over ’fuck me’ lace?” She takes a sip of her tea. "That and I went through your drawers and you’ve got tons of easy clap and fuck me lace. Which reminds me, wear lace next time. Do they sell easy clasp in fuck me lace? That’d be ace.” She punches him in the arm, and not playfully either. She’s got a mean swing she’s pretty proud of. 

"Pervert.” She mutters, taking another sip as Harry pouts at her, rubbing his arm. She clears her throat after swallowing. “By the way, where’d you learn all that ‘Treat your girl right’ shit anyway? I’ll admit I’ve not had much experience with many men’s mouth down there, but I know  well from bad - well I think I do.” She starts drinking again, looking up at him expectantly from the brim of her mug. He sets his own mug down, reaching for hers and placing it on the coffee table as well. He speaks before she can protest. 

"What matters now is how many times a day I can use it on you before you explode, or cum excessively. Whichever comes first.” He winks, leaning in and licking at her jaw in a mocking seductive manner. She laughs and tries to push him off her, his tongue making her ticklish. 

"Harry! Harry!” She whines, unable to control her laughter as he hovers over her now lying body. He begins kissing down her throat, between her collarbones and on the marks he left her earlier. She’s going to get in so much trouble and Harry can’t help but smirk at that. "Ready for round two, baby?” He asks, nipping at her collarbone. 

“Depends,” She manages to breath out, the top of Harry’s head still in her hands. “Think you can catch me?” Harry looks at her, confused, and before he knows it she’s pushed him at the shoulders and thrown herself to the floor, standing up and bolting for her bedroom. Harry snickers, standing up and jogging after her, shoving her bedroom door open and engulfing her in his own body on the bed, pinning her down. 

“Naughty girl.” He teases, his hands travelling under her jumper and feeling the lace of the bra she must’ve changed into. He smirks. “Naughty girl indeed."