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captainsimagines · 3 years ago

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

“Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky.

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized.

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice.

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best.

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy.

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion.

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam.

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients.

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind.

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead.

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh.

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response.

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best.

Friends.

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics. “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter.

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all.

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders.

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality.

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed.

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well.

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’.

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix.

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway.

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears.

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again.

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle.

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm.

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist.

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer.

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut.

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table.

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him.

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection.

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed.

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass.

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed.

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott.

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves.

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension.

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug.

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve.

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful.

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common.

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case.

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in.

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister.

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence.

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting.

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family.

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back.

The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman.

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle.

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings.

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up.

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart.

“Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.”

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded.

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection.

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it.

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him.

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime.

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off.

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness.

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged.

CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting.

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through.

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey -

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel.

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.

Steve,

Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper.

This will have to do.

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man.

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you.

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache.

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid.

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry.

You deserve to live, Steve.

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living.

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.

With as much love in me,

The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.

Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two.

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode.

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting.

The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry.

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone.

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White.

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter.

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her.

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father.

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well.

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?”

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat.

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you.

“Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table.

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more.

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude.

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day.

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently.

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night.

Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves.

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look.

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda.

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally.

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black.

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue.

That’s all that matters.

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all.

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra.

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to.

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems.

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself.

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again.

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. ��I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister.

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.”

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.”

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity.

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door.

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back.

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.”

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind.

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed.

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road.

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece.

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more.

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done.

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield.

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth.

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you.

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh.

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night.

After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something.

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile.

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday.

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints.

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed.

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis.

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it. “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either.

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again.

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday.

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real.

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks. “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always.

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

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inheritorofmemories-archive · 4 years ago

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TOG immortals and vices

Been thinking about the way half the guards smoke like chimneys in the comics, the consumption of alcohol shown in the movie, and what bad habits they would have picked up and never let go of throughout their lives.

So here, my little headcanons about which vices each of the immortals have:

(vices used loosely, more like bad habits or things they like that they cannot help or do without)

Andy and food. And sweet stuff.

She has known hunger and plain, out of necessity, food for so long she’ll indulge gods help her she will ingest as much sugar as she can get her hands on. Absolutely demolished Yusuf’s stash of sweets when they met her. She doesn’t like cooking, or baking, because it takes too much time and investment and feeding herself was a chore for most of her life but she loves to go out to eat. She absolutely hates the snobby michelin type restaurants with no food on the plate and stupidly long name and she’ll take a good meal from the corner food truck or that family held recipe over that pretentious crap any time of the day. Can only feel alive when eating food with enough spice in it to burn off anyone’s tongue but she also likes the greasy and filling stuff that sticks to your throat for hours. Food as a bonding experience for friends and family, she believes in the power of bread, good wine, sweet dessert and a full stomach. But mostly the desert to satisfy her huge sweet tooth.

Quynh and fashion.

That woman wouldn’t be caught dead in clothes that don’t fit or look ridiculous, you and I both know that. She’s reasonable most time and keeps their money in check but more than once she gave too many coins for a dress/tunic/shirt or a fabric that caught her eyes. In general she loves to take care of appearance, clean and combed hair styled nicely, clean and good clothes, makeup and jewelry that doesn’t look too bling but bring just enough class and bring attention. She likes beautiful things in general (aka her wife Andy but also that collection of knives she has that is centuries old, there’s some Damascus steel in there Joe found for her). Was definitely the one to dress the team and the one who took to new trends the fastest, even when she had Opinions on said trends. Would also be the type that would rather be overdressed than underdressed at an event, as opposed to Andy which makes for the funniest couple ever.

Nile and physical activity (not just sport, anything physical).

I see her as the kind of person who cannot relax and needs to be doing something at all times. She’s the eldest daughter in her family and in comics canon she had like 5 jobs before going into the army, tell me this isn’t the behavior of someone who hates to be idle because it makes her feel useless. She’s working out to process her emotions in the military base, and when Andy leaves to fight in the church she’s walking in circles trying to find something to do, go help Andy or pack or anything really. She’s absolutely the type to go for a run because she has nothing else planned and it clears her head, or the one to stress bake in the middle of the night to keep her hand busy, or who would learn to knit because reading isn’t enough to keep her brain in track she has to do something concrete with her hands. People telling her to calm down, stop jerking her legs or just take a day off awake strong murder urges in her. It’s not like she can help it so let her tear this piece of paper into smaller pieces of paper because she hasn’t been on run in days and she’s going crazy with pent up energy. Patience is vertue that never bothered to visit her.

Joe and arguing.

He loves to pick arguments. He’s the cerebral guy in the team and he will get into heated debates even if it pisses off him, the other person talking, everyone else around the table and the neighbors on the other side of the room. He can’t help it, that’s just in his genes to argue and share his opinions and confront the way other people’s brain work. The best kind of arguments are about the most pointless and petty things like how to drink your coffee, the best time to nap, which citrus is the best or the correct way to store books. The haggling falls under that category too, Yusuf “son of a merchant” al-Kaysani was raised right by his baba and he knows a scam when he sees one, no he will not calm down that price is twice it’s value, you thief.

Nicky and gambling.

He just likes it. Knows he shouldn’t but he enjoys the excitation of a bet and the risk involved and the thrill of winning too much to stop. As soon as an opportunity to bet arise it’s like a switch in his brain cut off all common sense coursing through him. He can hold back if the situation is dire but with enough teasing and ribbing he will take part even into the most stupid and useless bets, yeah, 20 bucks that chicken gets to the barn before the goat does. I have to thank @polarcell for this one, wouldn’t have thought of it without her posting about it and the image of calm and collected Nicky going feral over bets and just running headfirst into them is an incredibly humanizing quality that I appreciate.

Booker and alcohol.

Goes into the unhealthy side in the movie but I truly believe he’s the kind of man who would sell his kidney to get that bottle of good liquor he’s been eyeing all week, if not dying in the process, simply because he likes the taste of this one. The kind of man to be a snobby asshole over wine and good whiskey from time to time but mostly he wants to share it with his friends (ie. the small family that gets all the best alcohol he can find to drink with them). A bit of a social drinker I think too, like Andy with food: it’s best when it’s shared.

+ Bonus:

Lykon and adrenaline.

Have you seen the way that man smiled at Andy when he was almost gutted by a spear in a fight? You can’t tell me Lykon wasn’t the og Jackass back in BCE time. He can be calm and collected but present him with the opportunity to ride a wild beast or jump off a cliff/waterfall/ravine and he will do it. A bit of a thrill-seeker, often getting himself, and then Andy and Quynh too, into trouble because he just couldn’t help it, it seemed too fun. He’s here for a good time not a long one and a long one too. If he was still alive he would 100% be the kind to discover motorcycle, promptly dies about 10 times riding it too fast, and then enroll in a circus just to jump through on fire hoops every night. He would have been so thrilled when humanity started to invent stuff to fly too, just imagine him grinning as he jumps off a plane with the first-ever parachute strapped on his back.

#me over analyzing fictional characters for fun #the old guard #the old guard headcanon #tog headcanons #the old guard meta #tog meta #andromache the scythian #quynh #andromaquynh #nile freeman #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #sebastien le livre #lykon #tog #em speaks #tog hcs

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 5 years ago

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Something Stupid

Word Count: 1,337

Characters: Isaac Lahey, Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin

Pairings: Isaac Lahey x Mccall!Reader

Warnings: small angst, mainly fluff?

A/N: Uhm, did I ever post a fic called Wolf Boy? Cuz I have a draft on google docs but I don’t know (It’s and Isaac Lahey fic)

Masterlist

“Yes, I’m ready to go back to school.” you groaned for the millionth time, convincing your brother and mom.

“Okay, but what if something happens?” Scott asked.

“Like what? I’m surrounded by werewolves everywhere I go. I have a knife with me. Derek and Argent have been training me.” you said, crossing your arms.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Scott said.

“What? Mom, help me out here! I have been home every day for the past 3 weeks. Please.” you begged.

Melissa looked between you and Scott. Scott kept you at home because he thought that the Alpha Pack or the Darach was gonna hurt you. You didn’t really care, knowing you could easily defend yourself, but Scott didn’t agree with you.

“Okay, fine.” Melissa agreed with you.

You gave Scott a smirk.

“What? Mom!” he started.

“Nope! No, no, no, no!” you quickly yelled, grabbing your bag.

“Thanks, Mom!” you yelled before quickly running out of the house.

-----

You took a deep breath as you smiled, walking down the halls.

“(Y/N)” you heard Isaac gasp from behind you.

“Oh look, it’s the giant!” you exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, and ran to you, giving you a hug.

“I missed you so much.” he practically lifted you off the ground, holding you tightly.

You closed your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you replied.

You broke off the hug, holding his hand.

“So how have you been?” he asked.

“I texted you 24/7, I'm pretty sure you know,” you said.

He put his arm around your shoulder as you started walking to your locker.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. So, wanna hang out after school?” he asked, leaning against the lockers.

“No, I have school to catch up on,” you replied, pushing him softly.

“Nerd.” he scrunched his face.

“Asshole. I’ll catch you later, k?” you said, getting your books out.

“Yeah. Love you.” he kissed you and ran off.

Your eyes went wide for a second, realizing what just happened.

Oh dear god

----

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Stiles asked you, sitting next to you on the table.

The rest of the pack gave you a look.

“Shut up. We’re friends,” you replied.

“That’s a lie. And the fact you know who we’re talking about.” Lydia said, sitting on your other side.

“Look, I don’t know and I don't need to know,” you said, looking down.

“I heard and saw,” Lydia whispered in your ear.

“Ugh” you replied.

“Uhm, what? What happened?” Scott asked, using his werewolf skills to be a protective older brother.

“Seriously, it’s nothing.” you gave Lydia a look.

“Well, then I’ll ask him myself.” you looked up, watching Isaac head towards the table.

Your eyes went wide.

“Uhm, I just forgot, I have to go….” you quickly grabbed your things and ran off, leaving a confused pack and slightly embarrassed Isaac.

----

You avoided Isaac for the rest of lunch, going to class. You waited for Lydia to sit next to you, but instead, Isaac did.

You looked around, trying to find another seat, but everywhere was full.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Isaac whispered to you.

“No, we don't. Nothing happened.” you didn't know what to say. You knew you liked Isaac for a while, but there was no way he meant that kiss.

“Yes, something did. Look, I just wanted to say sorry, okay? It was an accident, something stupid. Let’s just forget it ever happened and go back to being friends, okay?” he asked.

You felt your heart shatter.

“Done”, you said softly.

“(Y/N), Isaac, detention.” you heard your teacher say.

“For what?!” you exclaimed.

“Talking. Class has already begun.” you looked at the clock.

40 seconds ago?! Are you kidding me?!

You rolled your eyes but kept your mouths shut.

-----

You walked into detention, seeing Isaac was there. You took a deep breath and sighed as he motioned for you to sit next to him.

Instead, you sat in front of him, thinking.

There was no way you could be mad at him, you knew the kiss was a mistake the second it happened. But hearing him say it, hurt you. As much as you didn't want it to, it still hurt you.

“(Y/N), Isaac, you can restock the Janitor’s closet.” you heard your teacher say.

You quickly raised your hand.

“Uhm, does it have to be with him?” you asked.

“Now that I know you’d prefer now too, then yes, it does.” he gave you a smile.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the closet.

“(Y/N),” Isaac said to you.

You ignored him, doing what you had to do.

“(Y/N), god! I said I was sorry what more do you want?!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not mad at you Isaac!” you nearly shouted.

“Yes, you are! I can read you, (Y/N)! You’re clearly pissed at me because I kissed you! I already told you! It was an accident! It meant nothing!” he groaned.

“I’m not mad-” you sighed.

“Yes you are!” he exasperated.

“I’m not mad that you kissed me! I’m mad because-” you started, before stopping yourself.

“Why? Why are you mad then?” he asked.

You sighed. You could speak, or you could keep quiet.

“(Y/N),” he said.

“I’m mad because you regretted it!” you exclaimed.

“W-What?” he stuttered.

“Can we just ignore it, okay?” you sighed.

“But you can't like me! Me?!” he exclaimed.

You gave him a look before signing.

“I mean, you like Stiles!” he said.

“What?!” you almost screamed.

“You! Like Stiles!” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I don't like Stiles! That’s gross!” you exclaimed, the thought of you and Stiles sent a shiver down your spine.

“What?! B-But I thought you'd never like me!” he exclaimed.

“Wait what do you mean?!” you asked, confused.

“Well….. I like you, (Y/N).” you looked up at him.

“Shut up,” you replied.

“Why?”

“Because! You like Allison!” you replied.

“I don't like Allison! I like you!” he exclaimed.

“W-What?!”

As you looked at Isaac, you heard the door slam shut, causing you to jump slightly.

“What? No.” Isaac almost immediately ran to the door, trying to open it.

“Isaac?” you said, concerned, walking to him slowly.

“N-No, I can’t be trapped.”, he said. A few seconds later the lights went out.

“N-No!” he pushed the door, banging on it, trying to open it.

“Isaac, calm down.” you out a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I can't be trapped! Help! Let us out!” he yelled.

“Isaac-” you started. You saw his eyes glow yellow. He was turning.

“Isaac, calm down. Just breathe. It's gonna be okay.” you tried to calm him, stroking his back lightly.

“(Y/N), stand back, please. I don't wanna hurt you.” you could feel him shaking.

“You’re not gonna hurt me. I know you won’t,” you said softly.

He turned, facing you. He stood tall, looking at you. You took a deep breath, looking at him, not sure what was about to happen.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips, holding your hands.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the kiss.

He moved his hands down to your waist, holding you tightly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

You didn't know how long you two were together, but you loved every second of it.

Both of you didn't notice the door finally opening, as you continued holding each other.

“Isaac?! With my sister?!” you heard Scott exclaimed, as you quickly broke the kiss, opening your eyes.

Isaac looked at Scott, and opened his mouth, about to speak.

He quickly pressed a small kill against your lips, before running off.

“Oh hell no! Isaac!” Scott ran after him.

You held in your laughs, or your cries, you couldn't tell your own emotions.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me 10 bucks!” Lydia turned to Stiles.

“You guys bet on it?” you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

“And now it’s our turn to run!”

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cucumbers-and-olives · 4 years ago

Text

Unrequited Love: Part 2, Heartbreak Girl

<<<part one

Summary: At a band performance, you see Carrie in the crowd.

Category: Angst, songfic

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Carrie x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/Includes: idiot characters who can't tell that the other is in love with them, spelling errors, weird time skips

A/N: alright, this has taken so long but its finally here! hope you guys like it!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: @wrhen @funsizearsonist , you guys have been so patient as this has sat in my drafts for sooooooo long, so thank you guys for your help/kindness!

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

You looked around the venue, the bright lights glaring you in the eye. The crowd shouted as you spoke, “This song goes out to someone important to me. To my Care-bear. She’s not here tonight, but if she was, this is what I would tell her.”

“One, two, three, four!” Your band's drummer, Kye, counted off.

Carrie walked in as the opening notes played from your guitar. In the noisy and busy venue, it was easy for her to blend in with the crowd where you couldn’t see her. Not that she was trying to avoid you, but after the other day… well she didn't know what would happen when the two of you got a chance to talk to each other.

As you played, your eyes drifted around the venue, looking for her, skimming past others who looked nothing like her, and ones who did. She said she would be here. She promised a week ago, no matter what. Maybe she’s in an area I can’t see? No, she said she’d be in the front.

“You call me up

It's like a broken record

Saying that your heart hurts

That you'll never get over him getting over you

And you end up crying

And I end up lying

'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do,”

“He broke up with me.” She collapsed on your bed, pulling a tub of ice cream out of her backpack. “And I have to walk around that school with a smile on my face and pretend I’m okay.” She looked over to you, sitting at your desk. You were fiddling with a pencil mindlessly.

“At least you can be honest with me.” You meant what you said, and you didn’t at the same time.

~ “God he's an asshole. I ended it.” It was first period, and you knew it would be a long day when she said that. But, it wasn’t gonna be a day at school.

“We’re over, for real this time.” The text came in at 12 pm, waking you up. The streets were dark as you drove to the grocery store (to get ice cream), and then to her house. You wondered how much sleep you were gonna get tonight, and clearly, not a lot.

“I can’t believe he ended it. I thought we were good for once.” She came in through the window this time. A tub of strawberry ice cream as always, it was Carrie’s favorite after all. “You know, he’s been staring at that Molina girl all week…”

All the calls and texts, it all became too much for you. Carrie and Nick were on and off like a light switch, and she couldn't even see the girl right in front of her. The girl that would do anything for her. Starting with being there. Always.

“And when then phone call finally ends

You say "Thanks for being a friend"

And I'm going in circles again and again,”

“Thank you.” She said, as your car stopped outside of her house. You nodded. You didn’t need to say anything.

“Thanks.” Carrie said, and you heard a beep from your phone as she ended the call.

“Anything for you. Always.” You whisper into the quiet nothingness.

“You’re awesome!” She hollered over her shoulder, running to class.

Carrie was honest each time she said that, as you helped her through heartbreak over and over. But now, she realized that it was way too much for you. She could see the pain in your eyes as you sang, still looking around for her, she presumed.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

And then you saw her. She was slowly moving through the crowd and she stopped in the middle subconsciously, as she turned to look to you. She didn’t move, she just froze and you did too. There was an awkward gap in the chorus until one of your band mates took over for you.

You still played your guitar, but your mouth didn’t move. You just watched her, and she watched you. Just staring at each other, her soft brown eyes looking back at you.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

“Hey,” Your band mate, Sam said, briefly stopping playing the guitar to tap on your shoulder. “You good? Ashley took over.”

You pulled out of your comatose-like state for a moment. “She came,” You said, and they had an “ah ha” moment.

You had a second more, before the next verse started, and she whispered something to you. “Plan B? Do you want to do it?”

“I bite my tongue

But I wanna scream out

You could be with me now

But I end up telling you what you wanna hear,”

You nodded as you jumped back in, harmonies forming for the first few words, as Ashley, who had covered for you, stopped singing. You just focused on Carrie, but you could hear Sam moving around the stage to let everyone know the plan.

You had time before everything went into action, so you just soaked in the lights, and the screams, and the adrenaline as you sang.

“But you're not ready

And it's so frustrating

He treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair

And when the phone call finally ends

You say "I'll call you tomorrow at 10"

And I'm stuck in the friend zone again and again,”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, before dance rehearsal,” Carrie said, after dumping all of her relationship problems on you.

You didn’t know what to say. She just called you, vented all of her problems, thanked you, hung up, and promised to call again. It was an endless, vicious cycle. And you didn't know how to break it.

“Yeah. Love you,” You muttered as you hung up the phone, tossing it across your bed. It clattered against a textbook softly, and a second later your phone lit up with a text.

You scrambled across the bed, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was apologizing. But it wasn’t even from her. It was your mom, asking if you could pick up some food from the store. It took a lot of effort to not scream.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

Carrie saw the movement on the stage, and it unfroze her for a moment. Your band mates moving onstage, with a plan.

She could see the happiness in your eyes, and the pain, as you sang. But there was too much movement on the stage, and she knew something was about to happen. You jumped into the second half of the chorus like nothing was happening.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

Someone came up behind you, attaching a hands free mic to your head. There was some more shuffling behind you, and your guitar was now attached to what looked like a second mic pack in the back pocket of your jeans.

You looked over to Ashley, trying to convey the most “which way do I go” look, and she nodded to a set of stairs you hadn't noticed before. You smiled at her, and then you took a deep breath. You’d never done this before, no one ever does this.

“I know someday it's gonna happen

And you'll finally forget the day you met him

Sometimes I'm so close to confession

I gotta get it through your head

That you belong with me instead,”

The crowd parted as you walked through, like a school of fish, as you got closer and closer to Carrie. She started to back up a little bit when she realized what you were doing, but when she saw the look in your eyes, she stopped, and stood still.

Standing in the middle of the arena, all eyes on you as you sang.

It was just you playing. Just you singing. Raw emotion, and it took you back to writing the song.

“What are you working on?” Carrie asked, jumping on your bed.

You closed your notebook, “Uh just a song. Why are you here?” You said, changing the conversion to her. As far as you could remember, you didn't plan anything for this week.

“It’s Friday…” She said, and your brain clicked.

“The movies! Oh my god, I am so so sorry, can we go now?” You said, scrambling around your room, grabbing your jacket and your phone. “I’m ready now.” You looked at her, hope in your eyes that you could fix this situation that you messed up.

“Y/N/N, it’s 2 am.”

You were confused. “2? No, the last time I checked it was 10..” You picked up your phone, and Carrie was right. “Shit.” You looked up to her. “Ice cream?”

She grinned. “Ice cream.”

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

They were small, but she could see the tears coming down your face. The pain behind your eyes. She wished she could take it all back. Go back to the beginning and do it right this time.

But she knew she had messed up. That she couldn’t fix it this time. Fix the mess she made.

The salty tears that came down her face matched the ones on yours.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure

Heartbreak girl,”

You looked back to the stage and your band mates nodded to you.

“Is this about Carrie?” Kye asked, as you finished playing a bare, acoustic version of Heartbreak Girl.

“No…” But the look in your eyes told the otherwise.

Ashley shouted it victory. “Yes! Pay up Sammy, that’s 20 bucks you owe me.” She danced around a bit, before Sam handed her $20 and she sat down.

“I’m sorry- you all bet on me?”

They looked at each other. “No- definitely not…”

“Why would we ever do that?

You slowed the song down on this loop of the chorus. Your band mates slowly faded out, until it was just you.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

You walked back up to the stage, just singing a capella now, the guitar at your side long forgotten.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl.”

Hope you liked it! Send me an ask or fill out this google form to be added to my tag list(s)!

JATP: @n0wornever @calamitykaty @screwunsaidemily @crybabyddl @badwolf00593 @dream-a-little-bigger-x

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #carrie x reader #carrie jatp #jatp fanfic #julie and the fantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #cucumber writes

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angstysebfan · 4 years ago

Text

My Roommates Boyfriend 2/?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

You woke up the next morning at 4, just to give you enough time before Bucky arrived. You showered and finished packing some last minute supplies. You had bought snacks for the car and made different playlists, as you weren’t sure what kind of music Bucky listened to.

At 4:45 your front door opened to reveal Bucky, with a duffel bag over his shoulder. You were busy making coffee in to-go cups. You looked up in surprise, forgetting Nat had given Bucky a key. “Remind me to get that key from you before we separate.” you say. Buck just rolls his eyes and walks in, saying nothing.

“Good morning Bucky, how do you take your coffee?” you ask sarcastically. He glares at you, which makes you want to laugh. He obviously isn’t a morning person. “Black” he says. You put a cover over the black coffee and hand it to him. He takes it and turns to sit on the couch. “You’re welcome” you say, sighing. This was going to be a long trip.

You grab your stuff and you both head out of the door. When you get to the car, you grab the keys from your purse, which are quickly yanked from your hand. “I’m driving.” He says, getting into the drivers seat. You throw your bag into the trunk with his and close it. Before getting in, you flip him off behind his back, just to make yourself feel better.

Once you get in the car and buckle up you take out papers from your purse. “Okay, I have everything mapped out, and even put deposits at a few hotels and motels on the way, separate rooms of course. I also circled some fun things we might want to see before--”

Before you can finish your sentence, Bucky had driven away, taking the papers out of your hand and throwing them out of the window. “I’m not following any plan of yours. This is not some fun road trip. The sooner we get there, the sooner we are away from each other.” He says, keeping his eyes on the road.

“What the fuck Bucky!? You don’t have to be such a douchebag all the time!” you say, trying to keep your emotions at bay. Maybe it was the early hour and the lack of sleep, but you were really trying not to cry. Bucky ignores you and keeps driving, while you tear up in the passenger seat, your arms crossed over your chest.

“We don’t need a stupid plan. It’s 2020, we have GPS on our phones.” he says. You decide ignoring him is the best option. You slightly turn away from him and lean your head on the window, allowing the tears to come down. You really wanted to tell him to stop and let you out before you left the city. But you thought of Nat, and decided that you would make the most of this time. After all, you will never see Bucky Barnes again after this trip.

After an hour of silence, you grab your phone and start looking through the playlists you created. You weren’t sure how to broach the subject with Bucky, since everything you did seemed to annoy him. When you found your classic rock playlist, you looked at Bucky.

“Um... I’m sure you don’t want to sit in silence the whole time. I made a few playlists, since I didn’t know what kind of music you like. I have a classic rock one, if that works for you.” You say softly. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, then he glances at you with an unreadable look.

“You... you like classic rock?” he asks, shocked. You scoff, “Yeah, what kind of music did you think I listened to?” you ask. He shrugs, not taking his eyes off the road, “Not sure, I thought some Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” You roll your eyes, “Do you want the classic rock or not?” you ask, getting slightly annoyed. He smirks, “By all means princess.” he says.

You grab the aux cord and plug it into your phone, ignoring the name called you. Queen’s greatest hits starts playing, and before you know it, you are both bouncing your head to the beat and singing along. You realize this is the first time that you both are near each other and not tearing each other’s heads off. It’s nice, if you were to be perfectly honest.

Soon you find your eyelids getting heavy. You hate falling asleep in the car when there is no one else is in the car. Bucky sees you struggling and rolls his eyes. “Just take a nap, I’m fine.” he says. You look at him for a moment and then lean against the window, allowing your eyes to finally close.

Bucky’s POV

Look at you, sleeping huddled against the door. You actually look.... cute. But I would never let you know any positive thoughts I have about you. Not after what you said. You try and act like you are nice, but I know the truth. Nat might have been fooled, but you couldn’t fool me.

I still can’t believe Nat is forcing me to drive you across the country. I thought this was going to be my last days with my girlfriend. We both decided long distance was too complicated, so we were going to part as friends. But, man am I going to miss her. She is just so beautiful, and funny, and smart. But she wasn’t my first choice to be honest.

I glance at you again and ignore the feeling in my stomach. If only you knew that it was you that I was looking at, that night. It was you that I wanted to talk to. Good thing I found out who you really are before I made a move. Not that I wasn’t happy with Nat, but it was you who caught my eye that night. But I wont fall for your good looks, kissable lips, and sweet smile. I’ll continue to keep my distance from you and your tricks because I will never be fooled.

When you opened your eyes the sun was high in the sky. Your music was still playing, now moving on to The Beatles. You check the time and see that it is past noon. You stretch your arms up, which causes your shirt to ride up, showing just a slight amount of skin. You don’t notice Bucky glancing at it.

“Where are we?” you ask as you yawn. “Pennsylvania, not too far from the United 93 Memorial.” Bucky says dryly. You look at him and bite your lower lip. “Do... uh.. do you think we could stop there? I have always wanted to see it.” You say. Bucky rolls his eyes. “This isn’t that kind of road trip. I just want to get to Seattle.” Bucky says. You look down at your hands, nodding sadly, then look back out your window.

Bucky looks at you while you look sadly out your window. “Fine, we can stop there. Stop your pouting, please!” He says, exasperated. You look at him and can’t help the smile that comes across your lips. Bucky’s breath hitches when he sees that site, but quickly shakes it off. He starts following the signs toward the memorial site.

After touring the memorial for two hours, you both get into the car. You both have been having quiet conversations about what you remember about 9/11. Where you were, what you were doing, how you felt. It was honestly the easiest and nicest conversation you both have had with each other.

When Bucky gets back onto the highway he sees a sign for a rest stop. “You hungry?” he asks. “Starving” you say with a laugh. “I’ll stop at the rest stop to fill up and grab food, but I want to get back on the road quickly.” He says. You give him a thumbs up and put your playlist back on.

As you are driving toward the rest stop, you think about how today was actually an okay day. Maybe this road trip wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you and Bucky could make it across the country without killing each other. When you pull up to the gas tank you grab your wallet. “What do you want? I’ll grab the food.” you say looking at Bucky.

“Just a burger or something. I’ll get the gas.” He says calmly. You smile at him before leaving the car. After getting you both 2 burgers, fries, and cokes, you walk back to the car, where Bucky is waiting. You get in and hand him his bag with a smile.

“Took you long enough. I didn’t realize getting a burger was so difficult.” he snaps at you. You sigh defeatedly, so much for having a good day. “It’s not my fault there was a long line. I got it as fast as I could.” you say calmly. He scoffs at you, as he takes a bite of his burger. “I’m sure you did.” he says rolling his eyes.

You get back onto the highway, with complete silence in the car. The only noise was you both chewing or drinking your soda’s. The sun was starting to set as you passed the Ohio state line. You take out your phone and start looking at hotels in the area, since you are no where near where you planned on driving so all your hotel choices are obsolete.

“There are a few hotels about 10 miles up, if you want to stop for the night.” you say, keeping your eyes on your phone. “If the princess needs her beauty sleep, then of course I will stop.” Bucky says sarcastically. Your eyes shoot up and you look at his side profile. “Excuse me?!” you say, your voice raising. “I was thinking about you, actually, since you have been driving all day. I would rather not die in an accident because you fell asleep at the wheel. Since you obviously don’t want me to drive, I figured allowing you some rest was the next best option. You don’t have to bite my goddamn head off with everything I say!” You shout.

Bucky laughs, “Oh yeah, like you really care anything about me. I know what you really think of me, doll face. You don’t have to put on this show anymore.” he says. You look at him like he has 10 heads. “I would love to know how you think I think of you. I have been nothing but nice to you, since I first met you. YOU, on the other hand have been an asshole and don’t care if you hurt my feelings.”

Bucky laughs again, “Yeah, go ahead with your innocent act. Pretend I’m the bad guy, but we both know what you said that night in the bar.” Bucky says. You look at him and scoff, “I actually have no idea what you are talking about, but whatever. Do you want to sleep at a hotel or not?” you say annoyed. “Fine, but nothing too expensive. I’d be fine sleeping in the car, but I don’t want the princess to be uncomfortable.” he said.

You look back down at your phone, again trying to keep the tears at bay. You hate the way he always manages to get a reaction from you. As you are looking for hotels you get a text from Nat”

Hey love, how’s the trip?

Ugh... Bucky is being Bucky. I still don’t know why you wanted the two of us to come together.

I would explain, but I’ll wait till I see you.

What does that mean? What does Nat have planned?

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Feedback is appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. We will start diving deeper into what the issue between Bucky and the reader really is. Not sure how long I want to make this story, I don’t really have a plan. I know what I want to happen and how it ends, I just usually make up the rest as I go. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan, @jessyballet, @finleyjayne, @cap-just-said-language

#Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x natasha #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #modern bucky barnes

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 10 ✘JJ Maybank✘

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five! part six! part seven! part eight! part nine!

I feel like I should make a masterlist or something. This is getting kinda crazy.

(gif not mine! all credit to toesure! thank you for this beautiful gift. I love it)

Word Count - 6014 Warnings - Fighting, swearing, depictions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, Synopsis - Kie convinces your dad to let you come with her to the annual summer movie series, where tensions between the Pogues and Kooks finally comes full circle. Your dad finds out a secret which means there’s hell to pay for you. Taglist - @bitterbethany @lovelymaybankk @ilymarkchan @downbytheouterbanks @clearcolourlessglass @obxwriterfan @tangledinsparkles @chill-sushi A/N - Hey, so this chapter is pretty heavy! There’s some pogue on kook fighting, but also the reader goes through hell with Gerald. I don’t think the depictions are too graphic, but still, if it bothers you, please be cautious. Your safety is my priority! Also, I’ve been feeling rather irritated by my own writing. Every time I reread my work, it just sounds so apathetic and unfeeling, but I didn’t want that to interrupt this series because I know there are those of you out there who still read it! Thank you to those of you who have been interacting with my work in all forms, it is really encouraging. Anyway, here’s part ten! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay groovy, my friends!

When your dad opened the door and you saw Kie standing there on your front porch, your heart seized for a moment. You thought maybe something had happened to one of the boys, but from the small smile on her face, you could tell that wasn’t the case.

“What can I do for you, miss?” Your dad asked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. You neared, meeting her eyes and giving a small wave. She didn’t wave back, but her smile grew wider.

“My name is Kiara Carrera. My mom and dad own the Wreck? I live not too far away from here,” she said, which was her way of saying that she was a Kook and lived on Figure 8. “I was wondering if your daughter wanted to come with me to the summer movie series today.”

Your heart soared as you turned to look at your dad quickly. Being able to spend the day with Kie without fearing any retribution from your dad was high on your list of things that would make you very happy. You stepped toward your dad, pleading with your eyes even if he couldn’t see you.

“Well, Kiara, that offer is mighty nice of you, but-”

“Daddy, can I please go?” You asked with another step, twisting your hands. He turned to look at you, jaw tight. You pinched your eyebrows together as you knit your eyebrows together. He watched you carefully before finally sighing and hanging his head.

“You’ve been good this summer,” he said. “You can go.”

A smile broke across your face as you glanced over at Kie. She grinned almost as widely. You ran toward your dad, throwing your arms around his neck. For a moment, he hugged you kindly, until he grabbed your arm with an iron grip. You glanced over at Kie and her smile faltered.

“Anything happens today,” he hissed in your ear, sending a ripple of tremors down your spine. “And you’re dead.”

You nodded against his shoulder and as you slowly let him go, you tried to fix a smile back onto your lips. He dropped his hand from your arm and smiled again, but you could see the venom behind his teeth.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered, not confident in the sound of your own voice.

“Go change,” he told you. “I don’t want my daughter out looking like a whore.”

With that, he turned and walked, throwing the dirty towel onto the floor at your feet. He flinched as he slammed the backdoor shut, closing your eyes and breathing slowly.

“Hey,” Kie said as she took a few steps into your house. You opened your eyes and smiled at her. “Let’s get you changed.”

***

You were in the passenger seat of Kie’s car when you pulled up to Pope’s house.

“They’re gonna resist coming,” Kie said as she parked her car.

“What, resist spending all day with us out in the sun watching movies?” You scoffed, opening your side door. “No way.”

Kie laughed and the two of you walked up to Pope’s front door. Kie lifted her hand to knock, but you stopped her with a sly smile on your face. She pinched her eyebrows together.

You pounded on the door with your fist and deepening your voice, you called out.

“Kildare PD, open up!”

Kie shook her head and pressed her palm to her face. You laughed quietly to yourself as you heard a few swear words and bodies shuffling around. Pope finally flung the door open with a forced smile. When he saw the two of you laughing on his doorstep, his smile fell and he glared.

“That wasn’t funny, Elm,” Pope said with a sigh.

“I thought it was pretty funny,” you said, glancing behind him to where JJ stood. He hung his head, hiding a small bout of laughter from Pope.

“What’s up?” Pope asked.

“Summer movies,” Kie said. “We want you to come.”

The two boys glanced at each other, sharing something between them that made both you and Kie nervous.

“I think we should stay inside,” JJ said, walking up to the door to stand beside Pope. You scowled, but quickly tried to shake it off.

“On a day like today?” Kie scoffed. “No way, couch potatoes. Not on my watch.”

Pope shifted uncomfortably. There was something going on. You weren’t entirely sure what it was, but you didn’t like it. And you were going to find out what it was.

“Yeah, no, you’re coming with us,” you added, crossing your arms. Whatever it was they were up to, there was no way you were going to let them scheme it out on their own at home. It took a few more minutes of convincing, but you and Kie eventually got both of them in the car.

“What movie are they playing?” You asked, trying to break the silence in Kie’s car.

“You’ve really never been to one of these?” Kie turned to look at you as you shrugged. “Even JJ and Pope have been before.”

“Yeah, like twice,” JJ said, fiddling with his lighter. He was fidgeting more than normal. Something was definitely off with him.

When you arrived, the grass was already packed. You carried a few blankets in your hands as Kie led you to a clear spot in the grass.

“I’m glad they’re still doing this,” Kie said with a smile, nearly skipping. “Keep calm and carry on. Back to the OBX life. Aren’t you guys glad we made you come?”

“Ecstatic,” Pope said without so much of a twinge of emotion as he set a chair down onto the grass. You spread out a blanket and flopped to the ground with a happy sigh.

“Pope’s couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest,” JJ mumbled.

You glanced up at Kie as Pope and JJ whispered back and forth to each other. She nodded her head toward the concessions stand.

“Sure,” you said, pushing yourself upward and following after her. There was a smile on your face as you walked beside her, but it fell when you saw who else was over there. A growl came from your throat before you could stop yourself.

“Down, doggie,” Kie laughed, following your line of sight. “He won’t make a scene here, don’t worry.”

You scoffed and tore your glare away from Rafe just before he glanced over at you.

“Two Pepsi’s please,” Kie said to the guy at the concessions, pulling her wallet out of her back pocket. “You want anything, Elm?”

“I got it, Kie.”

“No, it’s my treat.”

You raised your eyebrows at her and she narrowed her eyes. Finally, you turned back to the guy standing there waiting for your decision.

“Just a bag of popcorn please,” you said to him. He nodded his head. “Thank you, Kie, you didn’t have to-”

Kie held up her hand.

“You’re my friend, Elm. Not gonna let you starve over a few bucks,” Kie told you with a smile.

“Hey, Kie, Elma.” At the sound of Rafe’s voice, you felt your entire body seize up. You shut your eyes, hoping that maybe it was a hallucination, that if you willed him to go away, he would. “How are you?”

Kie turned to look at him while you opened your eyes and took the popcorn and drinks from the stand.

“I’m fine,” Kie said with the most uncomfortable smile you had ever seen. It almost made you laugh. You looked anywhere but at Rafe, remembering your last conversation with him. He had threatened you, you had threatened him right back, and then he had almost tried to protect you when JJ started shooting. It was confusing and you hadn’t thought of it much, but now that he was in your line of sights, you started wondering about it again.

“And you, Elma, how are you?” He asked. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a glare.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” You ground out through your teeth.

“Just once more, sweetheart.” You lunged forward at the nickname as it sent ice through your bones. Kie stepped in front of you, keeping her perfectly placed smile on her face. You fumed from behind her, glaring daggers into Rafe’s skull. There was a wicked grin on his face as he looked past Kie and straight through you.

“Tell your boy we know what he did,” Rafe said once he finally looked back at Kie, inching closer. You had half a mind to shove him backward.

“What boy are you talking about?” Kie asked. You had no idea how she kept her cool so well. If she hadn’t been there, you would have already knocked him back on his ass and given him a few new bruises on his pretty face.

“He’ll know.”

That was definitely a threat. And it was a threat to one of your friends, maybe even JJ. Your eyes narrowed even further. If it weren’t for the Pepsi and popcorn in your hands, you might have strangled him. Kie turned away from Rafe, hooking her arm through yours. She pulled you away, but you didn’t take your eyes away from Rafe. He had to know that if he came after any of your friends, you would be there and he would get his ass beat.

“Watch your dog, Kie,” Rafe called after you, causing a few heads to turn. You made to attack, but Kie wouldn’t let you go.

“Elm, c’mon. Remember what your dad said,” Kie whispered, tugging you along. You finally whipped your head around, breathing ragged.

“I really hate him,” you sighed as you sat back down on your blanket.

“Who?” JJ asked, tensing almost instantly.

“Rafe.” You popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. JJ stood, but you put your hand on his knee, pushing him gently back into the chair. You settled between his legs, still glowering as you chewed on your popcorn.

“He said,” Kie added, handing a Pepsi to Pope. “and I quote ‘You tell your boy that we know what he did’.”

“What is that?” Pope’s voice raised an octave as he looked over at JJ, who shrugged.

“Um…” JJ cleared his throat. “Where is he?”

You pointed your finger behind you, staring forward. Pope and JJ spun around to look in that direction. You could feel JJ’s legs bouncing up and down, another sign that he was nervous. Something had happened to him and Pope and it had something to do with Rafe. It was official, you were definitely going to kill him.

“Great, the whole death squad,” Pope breathed. You scowled up at him for a moment before looking back at the screen.

“Don’t stare,” JJ said, pushing Pope’s head back to the front. “If they corner me, I’m coming out swinging, okay?”

You sat up, turning back to look at JJ.

“If that doesn’t work,” JJ continued, plucking his backpack off the ground. You wondered why he had brought it with him. “I got this right here.”

Your stomach dropped and you looked over at Kie, who had a worried mother look on her face. It wasn’t until her eyes met yours that you realized what exactly JJ meant by it. Pope and JJ muttered back and forth together for a few moments as you and Kie tried to internalize what you had both just realized.

You pressed your palms against your forehead, sighing heavily.

“Hey, JJ?” Kie said, her voice tight. “Please tell me that you did not bring a gun here.”

At the word, you lifted your head, shifting your jaw. Both you and Kie were staring JJ down, which made him visibly uncomfortable. He glanced between the two of you before responding.

“Kie, I didn’t bring the gun.” JJ twisted one of the rings on his fingers. He was lying. “Everything’s fine, okay?”

Another twist. Another lie.

Your eyes fell to the bag on the ground as Kie drilled into him about the rules of the Pogues and what not. You barely heard Pope say something about ‘it going down tonight’, but all you could think about was the gun in that backpack. All you had to do was ask JJ for it. He would give it to you. He wouldn’t ask questions. Even if your dad turned up the next day with a bullet in his head, JJ would never question you.

You forced yourself to look away and engage back into the world of reality. By that time, the first movie had started and your friends had fallen silent. You leaned back against the front of JJ’s chair, resting your head against his knee, trying to get your mind off of the gun. He dropped his hand down to your shoulder, giving a short squeeze.

Focusing on the movie was a thousand times harder with JJ’s thumb brushing your neck. The actors on the screen were talking to each other, but you had no idea what they were saying. If there was a mind reader in the crowd, they would be scarred after reading what was going on in your head. You clenched your jaw so tightly that it began to ache. The sun started to drop, darkness falling over you and JJ got a little bolder.

When you couldn’t take it any longer, you put your hand over his and pulled on his arm until he leaned forward. You could see the smile on his face as you turned to whisper to him.

“I might cut your hand off if you don’t stop, Maybank.”

JJ laughed and turned to say something, but before he could, Pope patted his arm. JJ sat up and turned toward Pope with a rather irritated “what?”

“I gotta take a piss,” Pope whispered. You laughed to yourself, turning back to the movie that you could now actually focus on. Still, you had no idea what was happening.

“Hold it,” JJ hissed.

“I can’t hold it, I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us.” You raised your eyebrows up at them, but the boys were both too engaged in conversation to notice.

“I gotta go.” They both looked back. “They’re blocking the bathrooms.”

“I could distract them so you sissies could go pee,” you said, keeping your eyes on the screen. JJ flicked your neck gently, making you pout.

“Come on,” JJ said. “I know where.”

As he shifted in the chair, you took the note and moved away so he could stand up. You huffed, lifting yourself into Pope’s chair beside Kie as the boys scampered off behind a tree.

“This isn’t good, is it?” You whispered to Kie. She shook her head, a reflection of the screen in her eyes.

“No, it’s not.”

You watched Rafe, Topper, and Kelce walk across the lawn behind the same tree.

“Kie,” you said, tapping her arm and nodding over toward the boys.

“That is definitely not good,” she said.

“Should we-”

“No. It’s a boy thing. We shouldn’t get involved.”

A few more moments went by and none of the boys came back. Your heart started to pound in your chest. You were worried for JJ and Pope, sure, but you were also itching to get Rafe a little bloodied. And when you couldn’t handle it any longer, you pushed yourself out of the chair and hurried over, ignoring the disgruntled protests from the people you walked in front of.

You weren’t surprised to find that a fight had broken out. You remembered that first fight you jumped into, saving John B and JJ all those weeks ago. This one was eerily similar.

Kelce held onto JJ, Rafe pounding into his stomach. Topper had Pope by the throat.

You didn’t take the time to really assess the scene much farther before jumping in. Grabbing Rafe by his shoulder, you spun him around and landed a punch across his face. Pain splintered throughout your hand, but you didn’t care. A startled yell came from him, but it didn’t take him long to compose himself and fight back.

Kie came running around from the other side of the screen, swinging the backpack with all of her strength. You watched with a smile as she smashed it against Topper’s back. The moment of distraction was enough for Rafe to land a solid punch against your jaw.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” JJ yelled, struggling against Kelce’s grip. You spat blood at Rafe’s feet.

“That the best you can do?” You asked. He swung again and you ducked, jabbing him in the stomach with your fist.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rafe said, wiping blood from his lips.

“That makes one of us.”

The scuffle carried on. You and Rafe moved around each other expertly, almost like a partner dance the two of you had been playing for years. The fight wasn’t stopped until Kie used the only brain cells that any of you had and set fire to the screen. Topper let got of Pope, Kelce releasing JJ.

As soon as JJ was free, he tackled Rafe to the ground.

“We gotta go,” Kie said, helping Pope to his feet as the screen burned. “JJ, Elm, we gotta go!”

You pushed yourself onto your feet, cringing against the pain in your ribs. You grabbed JJ’s wrist before he could pound Rafe’s face into the dirt.

“C’mon, bucko,” you said, pulling him backward. “We need to get outta here.”

JJ stood slowly, stumbled off of Rafe. You wrapped your other arm around JJ’s waist, pulling him back as the movie watchers started to scramble away from the burning screen. Lacing your fingers through JJ’s, you ran after Pope and Kie as they made a break for her car.

“Anyone want to fill us in on what exactly happened?” You asked, jumping into the backseat. JJ didn’t even get the door closed before Kie stepped on the gas.

“I may or may not have totaled Topper’s boat,” Pope said, breathless, as Kie tore out of the parking lot. He started to cough, rubbing a hand against his neck.

“Here,” you said, passing him a bottle of water before Kie started yelling.

“What the hell, Pope?” she shrieked.

“They started it!” JJ protested, half standing. You pushed him back against the seat. “Rafe and Topper jumped Pope while we were on delivery.”

“They didn’t,” you said.

“Yeah, they did.” JJ crossed his arms. “So I told Pope to sink Topper’s boat. They deserved it.”

“Whether they deserved it or not, there’s going to be absolute hell to pay for this,” Kie said. “But first, we gotta get Elm home so her dad doesn’t kill her.”

You let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your knuckles. The skin had broken from your first punch, blood dribbling down your hand.

“Let me see your face,” JJ said, putting his hand under your chin and moving your face toward him.

“I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “Kelce was beating you pretty bad though.”

You tried to pull up his shirt to see what kind of damage Kelce had done to his ribs, but he waved you off in the same way.

“Kie,” Pope said in an airy voice, mocking you. “Let me see you. Are you okay? Is everything alright? Are you dying? You were hurt pretty bad….”

You rolled your eyes as JJ kicked the back of Pope’s seat. Kie was still fuming, unamused by Pope, her knuckles tightening over the wheel.

“You’re just jealous that you don’t have a girl to fawn over you, Pope,” you cooed, giving a fake pout. “See, JJ here gets beat up and it’s hot as hell and I just can’t keep my hands off of him.”

Pope gagged, rolling down his window to fake vomit. JJ turned to look at you as you grinned at Pope’s reaction.

“Do you really think it’s hot when I get beat up?”

You shook your head.

“No. It makes me want to set Kelce’s house on fire,” you told him, tapping your finger against his shoulder. “But seeing you beat Rafe up…”

“Seriously, guys, I’m going to jump out of this car if you don’t stop,” Pope said. You finally scooted away from JJ, still laughing. You had been joking to make Pope uncomfortable, of course, but you weren’t lying. Watching JJ beat the shit out of Rafe was incredibly sexy and the next time you got him alone….

But you knew that probably wouldn’t be any time soon.

A few miles before pulling up to your driveway, Kie stopped the car.

“Pope, get in the back,” she said.

“Are you really that mad?”

“Pissed as hell? Yes. But Elm’s dad can’t see either of you. So, switch places with her. Now.”

Pope popped the door open and switched places with you. Kie drove the last few miles in silence.

Seeing your house as you pulled up made you sigh. Even if there was a big fight and you get pushed around a bit, the freedom you had felt being out with your friends with no fear as nothing like you ever felt.

“What are you going to tell him about your bruise?” Pope asked, both him and JJ laying flat against the backseat.

“I’ll make something up,” you told him with a smile, not looking back. You could see your dad at the front window, waiting. You waved up at him. “See you guys later.”

You didn’t wait for either JJ or Pope to say anything else before hopping out of the car. Kie followed you to your front door. The door was opened before you even made it to the top steps, your dad standing right inside.

“What happened to your face?” He asked. You smiled at him, rolling onto the balls of your feet.

“Oh, the bruise?” You asked, pointing at your jaw. “I got excited when we got to the movies, tripped over a curb. I tried to catch myself on a tree, but….”

You lifted your hand to show the cut on your knuckle. Your dad shifted his gaze over to Kie. You could feel her tense under his cold gaze.

“It’s true, Mr. Gerald,” she said, arms wrapped around her stomach. “It was actually pretty funny.”

You turned back to your dad with a smile. He glanced between the two of you for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yeah.” You remembered the feeling of JJ’s hand against your skin, the feeling of spending time freely with your friends, the feeling of your fist against Rafe’s face. “I had a blast.”

“Good, I’m glad,” your dad said. “Thank you, Kiara, for getting her home safely.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, but you could hear the strain in her voice. “I hope we can do it again someday...soon.”

That was a risky thing for Kie to say. One day out with no apparent issues wasn’t about to convince your dad that you could go out more. Still, you appreciated Kie’s attempt. She knew the prison that you lived in, how much worry was on your shoulders whenever you snuck out. Your dad sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

“I’ll talk about it with my daughter,” your dad said. He opened his hand out to you and you took that to mean that you were no longer permitted to be outside. “Thank you again, Kiara.”

You stepped inside and turned back to look at your friends.

“I had a good time today,” you said to her and she smiled. “I’ll see you around?”

Kie nodded, biting her lower lip.

“Yeah, see you around, Elm.”

You cringed as she turned to walk away. Your dad slammed the door shut behind her, but this time, you didn’t flinch.

“Elm?” he asked, turning to you slowly. “What, the name I gave you not good enough?”

“It’s not like that, Dad,” you said, backing away slowly. “We...we’re friends. We give each other nicknames. That’s the one she picked for me.”

Your dad narrowed his eyes at you.

“Go to your room, Elma,” your dad said. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

You hurried upstairs before your dad could say anything else. Kid popped his head out of his bedroom with a smile.

“Hi,” you said, voice quiet.

“Hey,” he replied. “How was your day?”

You lowered yourself to the floor, crossing your legs. Kid stepped out of his room completely and copied your position.

“My day was good,” you told him with a smile. “How was yours?”

“Good.”

Even though neither of you could really talk about what really happened with your dad standing just underneath you, undoubtedly listening in, it was enough to just sit there and see the smiles on each other’s faces. Knowing that Kid had a great day, whether he was at Dex’s house or playing with his other friends at the arcade or browsing the comic book store, was all that it took to make your heart burn with happiness and pride. It didn’t matter how deep your father’s actions cut into him, your brother never let it ruin his morale.

“Sleep tight, Kid,” you told him, ruffling his hair. He tried to dodge your hand, laughing as he shoved your arm away.

“You too.”

You stood and helped him up. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you steered him back to his room. Once he was back inside, you leaned up against the wall.

“I love you, Kid,” you said, looking at the floor. “I don’t say it enough.”

Kid turned back to look at you, the smile gone and a serious look on his face.

“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to say it. I always know.”

You smiled, feeling tears prick into your eyes.

“That’s good to hear.”

“And, El?” You looked up at him. “I love you too.”

***

You were rudely awoken by the front door slamming shut. You sat up, gasping for breath, whatever dream you had fading instantly. The sound of your father storming back and forth across the lower level of the house, pounding and slamming almost everything he came in contact with, made your bones rattle. Chills ran up your spine as you closed your eyes, trying to build up the courage to go downstairs and confront him about it. The sooner you went, the better things would go.

Flinging your blankets off, you shuffled out of your room. As you passed Kid’s room, you saw him peak out, just the barest of his eyes visible. You waved him back inside. He opened his mouth to protest, but you shut his door without waiting to hear it.

You swallowed a lump in your throat before making the long trek down the stairs. Heart pounding, you neared the dining room where your dad was shoving chairs back and forth to make more noise.

“What...what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice cracking. He froze where he was. Your ears burned with anticipation. Your dad turned to you, his eyes burning with fury. You took a step back, hands dropping to your sides, ready for whatever was to come.

“What’s wrong?” His voice shook. “What’s wrong is that I was just told that my daughter has been sneaking out and around behind my back, lying to my face, hanging out with the scum of the earth. What’s wrong is that I’ve just learned that you’ve been fooling around with some boy from the cut. That’s what’s wrong!”

Your heart plummeted into your stomach. After slowly taking in what he said, you tried to control your breathing.

“Daddy, please, I-”

“Don’t lie to me!” His booming voice echoed through your house. “You can’t lie your way out of this one, you sly bitch. No, I’ve got proof.”

Eyes wide, you watched in horror as your dad pulled a stack of photos of his pocket.

“Explain this one to me. It’s from last night, isn’t it?” He threw the photo at your feet. You covered your mouth with a trembling hand as you stared at it. There you were, sitting between JJ’s legs, his hand resting against your neck. The familiar sting of tears pained your eyes as you looked back at your dad. “What about this one? Can you lie your way out of this?”

He threw another picture at you. It was you and the Pogues on the HMS, dancing. There was a wide smile on your face as Kie guided your movements with her hands. JJ sat beneath you, his eyes glued to your back.

“Dad-”

“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” he said with a cruel laugh, looking at the picture in his hands. “When was this? That night you asked to go over to Sarah Cameron’s?”

It was from that night. You were wearing JJ’s sweater, the sweater that you had hidden in your room. His hands were on the side of your face, his lips against yours. You were smiling. The picture took you back to that day. You remembered the flash of lightning as the storm came rolling in.

As if a ton of bricks had been dropped on you, a realization dawned on you. The flash you had seen wasn’t lightning. It was the flash from someone’s camera.

Somebody had been taking pictures of you then, and they had been ever since.

You looked up at your dad again, a large tear dropping from your eye. Your dad tossed the entire pile at your feet, the photos scattering around you. You and the Pogues at the Wreck, you and Kie at the ice cream shop, JJ teaching you how to surf, John B cheering you on as you shotgunned a beer, you and Pope dancing at a kegger.

Mind racing, you closed your eyes to try and shut it out, but all you saw were the pictures. You thought you had been safe, you thought you had been clever, you thought he would never find out.

It goeth before the fall, they say.

“Did Bradford know about this?”

You snapped your eyes open, a new breed of fear starting to pump through your blood. You hadn’t protected yourself well enough, but you could still keep Kid out of it. You stepped forward, nearly slipping on the pile of pictures.

“Kid didn’t know anything,” you said, your voice shaking. Your dad sneered at you, staring down at you and your tears.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Daddy, I swear, Kid didn’t-” Your dad’s hand shot through the air, hitting your nose and breaking it almost instantly. You gasped, falling back as you felt the blood start to drip down your face. “I swear, I swear. Kid didn’t know. He didn’t know.”

“So you admit to it?” Your dad shouted, looming over you as you tried to crawl away. “You admit to it!”

You nodded quickly, your hand slipping on a photo as you tried to crawl away.

“Yes,” you said as you stared up at him. “Yes. I’ve been out with them. I’ve been sneaking out to see them. To see him. But Kid didn’t know.”

Your dad lifted his foot and brought it down hard against your hand, the same hand you had dug your teeth into a few nights before. You cried out against the pain, feeling iron tasting blood drip into your mouth. You pulled your hand to your chest in an attempt to stop the throbbing.

“What’s his name, Elma?” Your dad asked. You started crawling backward again, using your one good hand. “Your little boyfriend, what’s his name?”

You clamped your mouth shut, lips trembling as you stared up at him. There was no way you were going to tell him. JJ didn’t deserve to suffer for your mistakes.

“What’s his name!”

You shook your head furiously.

Leaning down, your dad grabbed you by your hair and lifted you off the ground. He slammed you against the wall, your back hitting the corner. A whimper came from your mouth before you could stop it.

“You think you’re so tough?” Your dad seethed, winding up his fist for a punch. You braced yourself for it. Still, your head whipped around when it hit. “You think you’re so clever?”

Another punch and you felt the skin on your face break, blood spewing from your mouth.

“Daddy, please-”

“I never wanted you!” He screamed, hitting you in the stomach. “But I try to protect you. I still try to protect you!”

He pulled you away from the wall, only to slam you back against it again. Hitting the corner for a second time tore the breath from your lungs. You gasped, pain riddling your every movement. You lifted your hands to your head to prevent another punch, but he no longer went for your face. His hands were big and he only needed one to wrap around your throat.

It already felt like you couldn’t breathe, but now with his hand squeezing, you knew you couldn’t. You tried to pry his hands from around your throat, but your strength was fading fast. You saw Kid standing in his doorway, mouth hung open and tears falling from his eyes. If you didn’t put an end to this soon, Kid would get brave and step in. You weren’t sure you would be able to save him from that.

“Dad,” you managed to squeeze out. He didn’t loosen his grip. “Midsummers.”

He looked away from your throat, glancing up at you.

“What did you say?”

You pulled at his fingers, straining as you felt your cheeks begin to tingle from lack of oxygen. He released the tiniest bit of pressure from your neck, enough for you to squeak in a small breath.

“Midsummers,” you said again, your voice a little less weak than before. “I can’t...Midsummers...like this.”

He seemed to get the picture you were painting. Concealer could only go so far and there was no way you could pull up to Midsummers looking like you were hit by a truck. You had never missed a Midsummers before and there would definitely be questions if you didn’t go. All you needed to do was get your dad’s hand off of your neck, all you needed to do was breathe. You just had to convince him that his reputation was worth more than killing you.

Apparently, it was. He let your neck go, still holding your hair and pressing you up against the wall.

“You ever lie to me again and I’ll kill you,” he seethed in your ear. You nodded your head slowly, trying to hold off how badly you wanted to cough. He finally let you go, stepping away as you fell flat against the floor. You coughed, trying desperately to suck in any form of air as you curled your legs up to your chest. You lay amongst the pictures someone had taken, the pictures that had damned you.

The front door opened and then slammed shut again.

“El!” Kid raced down the stairs. When he reached you, he dropped to his knees and scattered the pictures even farther. He didn’t even seem to see them as he stared down at you.

“I’m okay,” you said, tears and blood running down your face. Your voice was harsh like gravel. Speaking just made another wave of coughs shake through your body. Kid put his hands on your back, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Shh,” he cooed, laying down in the pictures beside you as you coughed through sobs. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Who in the hell had taken these pictures? Who could hate you enough to take all these pictures, go through the effort of printing them out, all to show your dad?

Only one person you knew hated you that much, only person who knew enough about you and the Pogues to have this much evidence against you. There was only one person in the Outer Banks who would want you to hurt so badly.

Rafe Cameron.

191 notes · View notes

j0elmill3r · 4 years ago

Text

hope for the underrated youth

Bucky Barnes x OC!Son x Daughter!Reader

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Warnings; Angst, kidnapping, HYDRA, mentions to torture, swearing?

Word Count; 2.2k

A/N; Face claim for Wyatt is Finn Wolfhard!

Bucky Barnes had been blessed with twins, you and your brother, Wyatt. But a blessing became a curse when you both turned four years old and where taken by HYDRA during the night while everyone else was sleeping. Both of you went through things you should never have, you were tested on, trained and used. They had given you powers, you could turn invisible, something that you could never control. Wyatt hadn't gotten any powers, but they had done an experiment of both of you because you were twins, they wanted to see if fraternal twins could be linked and feel what each other was feeling, whether it be physical or emotional. You weren't allowed to remember anything about your past. But you, you always held on to the memory of the man with the metal arm putting you into bed. You didn't know who he was, but you remembered his voice and his face so vividly. While HYDRA had you and Wyatt in their grip, Bucky had torn apart every HYDRA base and possible agent in a futile attempt to try and locate you and your brother. But he never did, not even a clue as to where either of you was being held.

The apartment that your handler had rented was nice, not anything fancy, but a definite upgrade from what you used to be kept in. You still had to share a room with your brother, but you didn't mind, at least you both had a bed that sat in a frame and not on a hard, cold concrete floor. But no matter where and what you slept on, you couldn't shake the memories that you weren't supposed to remember. It was always the same thing you remembered.

"But daddy, I no tired!" You whined. Bucky laughed as he carried you out of the living room and into yours and your brother's shared room. Wyatt was passed out in his own bed, while you were complaining about having to go into yours.

"Wyatt said the same thing, sweetheart," He said. You pouted as he tucked you in.

"Are you gonna be gone tomorrow?" You asked him sadly. Bucky sighed and sat on the edge of your bed.

"Not tomorrow, but it won't be for long," He told you. You nodded and yawned. "And there was you not being tired," He commented. You giggled and he kissed the top of your head.

"Night night, daddy," You said quietly.

"Good night, Y/N," He left your room and closed the door. As much as you tried to fall asleep, you just couldn't. You had a weird feeling in your stomach, like the one you had when you were going to be sick. Eventually, you fell asleep. When you woke up at 3 am, you saw something weird in the corner of yours and Wyatt's room. You slipped out of your bed and ran over to Wyatt's.

"Wyatt, get up!" You whisper yelled. He whined and turned around to face you, but then moved back when the previously hunched figure in the corner of your room stood behind you. They picked you up and you screamed. "Let me go! Daddy!-" "Your father isn't coming, for either of you," The person said. You both passed out due to some gas that they had let off in your room. It was the last time you were ever in control of what you did.

You woke up with a gasp, covered in a small layer of sweat. You looked around to find that you weren't in that room you didn't recognize and it was all a weird dream that you kept having and couldn't get rid of. You looked over to the other side of the room and saw your brother laying on the bed across from yours. You sighed, thinking about the plan you had been thinking about for weeks. You wanted to run away, and try to find out what you are, who you are. The bag under your bed had been packed for months, in case you ever got the guts to go through with your plan. But you had enough, you were gonna do it, tonight. You reached under your bed to grab the Nike bag that was hidden by a box. You took it, and turned invisible, walking out of your room quietly and down the dark hall of the apartment you were in.

"Y/N, go back to bed," You knew that voice, it was the one of the man you used to call dad. You turned visible again and looked around, you weren't quite sure who that was anymore, but there was something about his voice that you could trust, and feel safe in. But you were far from safe at this exact moment as you wandered into the living room. On the couch sat your handler, Robbie.

"You were warned about leaving without my permission, kid," You said nothing and kept your eyes glued to the floor. A part of Robbie wanted to let you and Wyatt go home, take you back to your dad and accept the fact that Bucky Barnes would probably kill him on the spot for taking his children away from him.

"I'm sorry," You said quietly. Robbie sighed and stood up, walking towards you. "I just wanna go outside," You told him.

"I can't let you, you know that better than anyone. Go back to bed and we can forget that this ever happened, alright?" Reluctantly, you nodded and walked back to the room you were sleeping in. A sickly crack came from the living room, making you turn invisible. Slowly, you crept into the living room and froze in the spot, seeing about 10 people dressed all in black and covered head to toe in tactical gear.

"That's one of the twins, grab her," One of them said. You figured they were talking about you, and that your fear had caused you to become visible again. Someone tried to move towards you, but you ran back to your room and slam the door shut, waking up Wyatt.

"What's going on? Why are you up?" Wyatt asked you. Everything had gone silent as you moved towards your brother.

"There are people here, we have to l-"

"Leaving so soon?" A voice came from the hallway. Wyatt stood up and moved you behind him protectively, you didn't bother to remind him that he was only 25 minutes older than you, something you would always remind him about. "Robbie, he was too soft on both of you. The hesitation on keeping you here with us, where you rightfully belong shone through him. He couldn't be left in charge of both of you, you're far too important to us," He continued.

"So you killed him?" You asked them rhetorically. He laughed and held his arms open triumphantly.

"I didn't kill him personally. But he had to go, and now, so do you two," He said seriously. You and Wyatt moved back as he moved forward towards you. "If you don't come willingly, we will still take you, we just won't be so nice about it,"

"Oh, you were being nice about it?" Wyatt asked him. The man in front of both of you grabbed Wyatt and pushed him behind him into the arms of the HYDRA agents. "Y/N!" He yelled as he was dragged out. It left you alone in the room.

"So, Y/N, will you go willingly, or will I have to use force?" He asked, bending down to get in your face. You swallowed your fear, and in a small moment of bravery, you uppercut him and made a dash for the window. "You little bitch!" You looked at him, and then down at the ground. You shook your head in disbelief, you were probably going to kill yourself, but that sounded better than going back to HYDRA. You smashed the window and went to jump out, but he caught your foot. You yelped as you felt it dislocate. "And where do you think you're going?"

Bucky frowned as he looked at the pictures of you and your brother on his phone. The feeling of walking into your room first thing in the morning and seeing neither of you there, it never left. It had felt as though someone had stolen his heart and sealed up his lungs so no air could get in, or out. It was as if his lungs would explode, even though they felt empty. It had been 11, long years for Bucky Barnes. 11 long years since he failed his job as a father to protect his daughter and son, he had failed catastrophically.

"Buck, come on, we're here," Steve snapped Bucky out of the trance he was in and frowned down at him. HYDRA missions were the toughest for Bucky, but he knew HYDRA best, and they couldn't go in with limited knowledge, especially with HYDRA. Bucky put his phone down and looked at the grey building a few miles away from them, they would have to trek through snow and woods to get to the base. God, he hoped that neither of you was being held here, in all honesty, he hoped that you were dead. He would rather you be dead and at peace than be in HYDRA, no one should have to endure what HYDRA puts people through, it was a fate worse than death.

"How many are in the base?" Bucky asked Steve, who sat down on the bench beside him.

"The scan picked up 12 heat signatures," Steve said. Bucky nodded and looked out into the white plains of the snow. "Do you still think they're out there?" Steve asked. It didn't take a genius to figure out who Steve was referring to. Bucky sighed and looked at Steve.

"The parental part of me wants to think that they are, that they managed to get away. But the logical side of me hopes to God that they died before anything happened to them, but I don't-I can't-" Bucky was choking up, so Steve put his hand on Bucky's back to tell him it was okay and that he understood, he didn't need to keep talking about it.

"Let's go, the sooner we get this intel the quicker we can get out of here," Steve changed the subject. Bucky stood to his feet and the pair of super-soldiers begun their trek into the snow. In a matter of minutes, they were outside of the base and taking down the few agents that were there.

"Captain America, Sergeant Barnes. How very nice to see you," Bucky and Steve looked to the platform above them and saw a man of about 30 years old standing there, a smug look directed at Bucky on his face. "My name is Klaus Mitchelson,"

"We didn't ask, nor do we care," Bucky told him. Klaus frowned and shook his head.

"Sargeant, how long have your children been missing?" Klaus asked Bucky, who visibly tensed. "Y/N and..." "Wyatt," Bucky finished. "What the hell do you know about them?" Bucky asked angrily. Steve looked around and saw four people standing behind Klaus, two of them being held by people behind them.

"I know more than you think. What if I told you they were in this room, and you just couldn't see them?" Bucky's heart was going a mile a minute. "But it would be nothing more than a cruel lie. Your children are dead, Mr. Barnes," Klaus finished. Steve stood in front of Bucky to stop him from going up and killing Klaus.

"Buck, stop-"

"He killed them, Steve. They were four years old," Bucky said, trying to seem angry, but it came out broken. "They must've been so scared," He said. Steve looked back up and saw that Klaus had gone.

"We need to get out of here, it must've been a trap," Steve said. Bucky shook his head and growled lowly.

"No. I need to find the son of a bitch-"

"Let me go!" You screamed. You were thrown down onto the floor and grunted, Wyatt following after. "Where are we?" You asked your brother, who helped you to your feet. Bucky had frozen, so had Steve.

"I don't know, stay close, alright?" You nodded and looked down, seeing the person that was always in the memory you clung to.

"Dad?" You said quietly, just loud enough for Bucky to hear you. Wyatt looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows. "Wy, let me go," You told him. Wyatt shook his head and gave you a serious look.

"Y/N, no. We don't know who it is," He told you. You shook your head and tried to get your arm out of your brother's grip.

"We do! It's dad!" You cried.

"Wyatt, please, please believe your sister," Bucky begged. Wyatt looked down and felt what you did, the remembrance of your dad.

"Are-are you real? You're not here to play tricks on us?" Wyatt asked. Bucky sighed and nodded. "Tell us something only you would know,"

"Y/N used to beat the life out of you if you got a hug from me first when I picked you guys up from school," Bucky told you both. You looked to Wyatt and nodded gently, and started to walk down the stairs. Bucky wasn't sure if he had fully reacted to the situation, that you were both alive and...semi-okay. But you, you felt overwhelmed. The room around you collapsed and you passed out, straight into Bucky's arms. "I hope you looked after her," Bucky told his son, who nodded. " 'Course I did. No one else was there to do it, who better else than me?"

Permanent Taglist; open!-

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #bucky x oc!#finn wolfhard #james buchanan barnes #x daughter #x daughter reader #steve rogers #x teen!reader #sister x brother #winter soldier

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newmusickarl · 3 years ago

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Mercury Prize 2021 – Ranking The Contenders

It is that time of year again – the season of the Mercury Music Prize. In the last few weeks, the albums nominated for the 2021 Mercury Music Prize have been revealed and, as ever, it is a highly diverse and eclectic list of some of the best British and Irish music released over the last 12 months – some familiar, some not so familiar. Each of these nominated records is now vying for the prestigious title of Album of the Year, the overriding criteria for which has greatly deviated throughout the award’s history.

Traditionally the eventual prize winner would tend to be a lesser-known record rather than what was necessarily the best album out of the 12, with the judges choosing to highlight the artist and record that may have been overlooked and needed the most attention. However, this has changed in recent years, with the judges choosing what has been widely regarded amongst music critics as the best album in most cases.

So, with the likes of James Blake, Michael Kiwanuka, Dave, Sampha, Alt-J and The XX being just some of the acclaimed artists that have taken the top prize home over the last decade, the big question is - who is in with the best shout this year of being named the overall winner?

In recent years a strong favourite has often emerged from the pack, but I must say I find the 2021 prize to be the most open and hardest to predict in years. There is no clear favourite this time around for me, which makes for an exciting and intriguing build to the September awards show.

Despite the unpredictability, as I do each year I’ve listened to all 12 albums and tried to rank them based on what I think are their chances of winning. To be clear, this is not a “Worst-to-Best” countdown – this ranking is based solely on how likely I think they are to win the overall prize.

To determine this, I’ve considered the front-to-back listening experience and the artistic achievement attained by the album, the popularity of the artist, how critically acclaimed the album is and how similar albums have fared in recent years too. So without further ado, here’s my final thoughts and analysis on this year’s nominees.

12. Promises by Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders & The London Symphony Orchestra

This collaborative release from electronic artist Floating Points, American jazz saxophonist Pharoah Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra was one of the albums I hadn’t heard prior to the nominees being announced, so was pleasantly surprised by what turned out to be quite an interesting listen. Built mainly around a twinkly harpsichord and Sanders’ saxophone, the music builds to a swell at various stages before gently disappearing in the same subtle way in which it arrived.

That said, I would be very surprised if this album took home the overall prize and title of “Album of the Year” for several reasons. Firstly, this feels primarily like a Pharoah Sanders project, who is of course American and not British. Secondly, although split into nine movements this is ultimately one single piece of music and the Mercury Prize has always been about celebrating artistic achievement in the traditional album format. Based on this, I’m surprised it has even been nominated and I think this cancels this one out for me.

Of course, there is always a chance this could prevail on the night, but I think it would be too controversial and therefore highly unlikely to get the overall nod.

11. SOURCE by Nubya Garcia

This debut album from London-born jazz musician Nubya Garcia was another record I hadn’t heard before her Mercury Prize nomination, which sees Nubya take the listener on a journey throughout musical history. As she describes the record herself, this is “a collection of thoughts and feelings about identity, family history, connections, collectivism and grief.”

Now jazz records have always found a spot on the Mercury Prize shortlist with at least one record from the genre getting a nomination each year. However, the reality is that none have ever actually won the overall prize - even in recent years with promising efforts from the likes of Moses Boyd, Sons of Kemet and The Comet Is Coming in contention. So as impressive as Nubya’s debut is in parts, I don’t think it is the album to buck the trend.

10. Pink Noise by Laura Mvula

Singer-songwriter Laura Mvula is certainly a favourite with the Mercury Prize judges, with her third album Pink Noise representing the third nomination of her career, making her an impressive 3-for-3 so far. That said, Pink Noise is a very different record to her first two outings, with Mvula lacing these tracks with synths to give them a wonderful 80s aesthetic and neon glow. When combined with her traditional soul style, it does make for an enjoyable and fun front-to-back listen.

However, my biggest reservation with the record is that it’s not particularly ground-breaking – this is a sound that a lot of other artists have employed recently and had similar or greater success to what Mvula achieves here. With this being the case, I’m also putting this one down as unlikely.

9. Not Your Muse by Celeste

Brighton-born singer-songwriter Celeste has already proved herself a hit with critics, having been named as the BBC’s Sound of 2020 prying to releasing this debut album. Across the 12 tracks on Not Your Muse, Celeste’s powerful, beautifully toned voice takes centre stage, simply soaring amongst the glossy musical arrangements.

From the instantly recognisable groove of Stop This Flame that has been everywhere in the last 12 months, to the string-drenched majesty of A Kiss, Celeste shows off her full range with plenty of style and flair. This is an impressive debut outing to say the least, drawing natural comparisons to the late-great Amy Winehouse for her soulful voice and cinematic presentation.

Although I wouldn’t be completely shocked if Celeste was to walk away the overall Mercury Prize winner, I think the success Not Your Muse has brought her already goes against her case. With its release, she became the first British female to have a No.1 debut album in the last five years and she even already has an Oscar nomination to her name for Best Original Song. She’s also been featured on Sky Sports coverage all year, as well as high profile John Lewis and SuperBowl adverts.

Therefore, I think it’s safe to say Celeste’s career is already flourishing, so a Mercury Prize win for her would simply be another accolade rather than the career-defining moment it has been for other artists in the past, and would be for other artists on this year’s shortlist.

8. Fir Wave by Hannah Peel

Northern Irish composer, producer and electronic musician Hannah Peel makes for a fascinating entry in the Mercury Prize shortlist for me. This was another record that I hadn’t heard previously and took me by surprise, with Peel essentially reinterpreting 1972 album Electrosonic by Delia Derbyshire (famous for creating the original Doctor Who theme) and the Radiophonic Workshop.

Although this is based on source material, this is an entirely fresh composition with Peel’s style of electronica drawing comparisons to that of Mercury Prize alumni Jon Hopkins. Peel herself best describes the record as “The cycles in life that will keep on evolving and transforming forever. Fir Wave is defined by its continuous environmental changes and there are so many connections to those patterns echoed in electronic music – it's always an organic discovery of old and new.”

It is an impressive record, and I was quite torn as to where to place this one on the list. If the Mercury Prize decide to return to their old habit of giving a lesser-known record the overall nod, then Hannah Peel could well be the artist to benefit - but that hasn’t really been the trend in recent years. Additionally, Peel herself is a very successful composer who continues to score many TV programmes and films, as well as putting together orchestral arrangements for the likes of Paul Weller.

For me, the nomination for Fir Wave has already granted it additional attention, which I think makes it a winner already in that sense. It’s certainly got an outside chance for the overall prize itself but based on recent history I don’t see it being named as the winner.

7. As the Love Continues by Mogwai

At this point, ten albums and 26 years into their career, people just about know what to expect from Scottish post-rockers Mogwai, and that is soaring, grandiose instrumentals. Yet somehow with each new release, the band continue to astonish, taking their instrumentals into unchartered territory and leaving listeners in wonder with their colourful, breathtaking soundscapes.

Amazingly, As the Love Continues is the band’s first ever Mercury Prize nomination, which is quite incredible given the high standard of their output over the course of their career. That said, it is not surprising this is the one for which they have finally been nominated, as it is for my money one of their best releases.

From cathartic opener To the Bin My Friend, Tonight We Vacate The Earth, the acid-drenched industrial sounds of Here We, Here We, Here We Go Forever, and the dreamy, looping guitar riff and euphoric crescendo of Pat Stains, Mogwai’s touch for forging fascinating sonic textures hasn’t missed a beat. That said, it is the one track that contains clean vocals that stands out amongst the pack here, and that is the emotional gut punch of Ritchie Sacramento which sees frontman Stuart Braithwaite paying a beautiful tribute to all his musician friends that have passed away over the years.

This is still one of my favourite releases by anybody so far this year and my second favourite album overall out of the 12 shortlisted. So why only at No.7 you ask? Well, because sadly I just don’t see Mogwai taking away the overall prize.

Firstly, as well as their first Mercury Prize nomination this was also the album that saw Mogwai land their first ever UK No.1 album, so they are arguably more popular than they ever have been. Secondly and most importantly, the Mercury Prize has mostly favoured debut albums and younger artists throughout its long history, and I think Mogwai are simply too established and verging on legendary status at this point to get the win. So as much as I love this album, I think it’s likely to get overlooked in the same way Radiohead have been every time they’ve been nominated. Here’s hoping I’m wrong and left pleasantly surprised!

6. Conflict of Interest by Ghetts

Here’s another record where it’s quite puzzling as to which way the judges will sway on this one. On the surface, this third album from Grime MC Ghetts has all the credentials to be a Mercury Prize winner. With the likes of Dave, Skepta and Dizzee Rascal all amongst previous winners, Ghetts comes from a genre that has a winning track record, certainly in recent years as well.

The album itself is also mightily ambitious and grand in its scope, with each autobiographical, astutely written track seamlessly segueing into the next one. There are also plenty of moments throughout of stunning, cinematic orchestration that help to elevate Ghetts’ bold vision at various key points. Perhaps most importantly though, it is also one of the most critically acclaimed albums on this year’s shortlist, holding an impressive 95/100 on Metacritic at the time of writing.

However, as many reasons as there are for Ghetts to be a contender, there’s also some things working against him, which is probably why he’s landed at the midway point on the rankings. Firstly, I found the album was about 10 minutes too long and didn’t quite strike the same chord that Dave’s Psychodrama, or even Kano’s two recently nominated albums, Made In The Manor and Hoodies All Summer, have done previously. It’s certainly an impressive outing, but for me lacks the emotional punch of those records.

Also, as I said about Stormzy’s record last year and still rings true today - no album that has Ed Sheeran on it deserves to win the Mercury Prize.

5. Collapsed in Sunbeams by Arlo Parks

Into the top five now and I think here is the point where we finally arrive at what are the genuine contenders for this year’s prize. Kicking us off is young singer-songwriter Arlo Parks for her beautifully understated debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams.

Parks said of the album recording process that she trusted her “gut feeling” a lot of the time, with most tracks “taking an hour or less from conception to end.” This is very evident across this raw, no-frills debut, where her wonderful soulful voice and honest songwriting are often the main attraction across the album’s 12 tracks.

Now, there is a lot working in Arlo’s favour when it comes to acts that historically win the Mercury Prize – it’s a debut album, she has her fans on the Mercury judging panel, and her success has been modest so far in comparison to some of the other nominees. That said though, the vital ingredient this album is missing for me is that grand ambition that recent winners Michael Kiwanuka, Dave and Sampha have all had – this is certainly a well-crafted record, but not necessarily one that will set the world alight and be talked about for years to come. For that reason, my gut says Arlo will be one of the names in the mix on awards night but will ultimately come up short.

4. DEMOTAPE/VEGA by BERWYN

For me, Trinidad-born rapper, producer, and songwriter Berwyn is the real dark horse amongst this year’s nominees. At just 27 minutes long, DEMOTAPE/VEGA is by far the shortest album on this year’s list, but nevertheless still manages to leave one of the biggest impacts.

Ultra-raw, brutally honest and charmingly homemade on his laptop, this debut is the perfect showcase for Berwyn’s talent. Across the album’s concise runtime, he carves out piano-driven R&B and Soul elements to backdrop his spoken-word style of rapping. To draw comparisons to other Mercury Prize alumni with multiple nominations, think James Blake meets Ghostpoet and you’re not a million miles away from Berwyn’s sound. For me personally, this album left a bigger impact in less than half the time of Ghetts’ whole album, thanks to cuts like the mesmerising and passionate 017 FREESTYLE.

Berwyn is certainly one of the artists on the shortlist that will greatly benefit from the extra exposure that winning the Mercury Prize brings so if you want to take a punt on an outsider, this would be the album I’d recommend backing.

3. For the First Time by Black Country, New Road

Much like Arlo Parks, experimental London rockers Black Country, New Road are another artist that have a lot pulling in their favour.

Another critically acclaimed debut and one that blends multiple elements from favoured Mercury Prize genres – post-punk, jazz, alt-rock, math-rock, amongst many others - to make a truly unique and bold sound. With razor-sharp guitar riffs, cutting lyrics and moments of seismic, horn-backed musical swells, this is a record that you can see easily winning over the judges on awards night. Although at times this is a record that’s easier to admire than it is to love, there are moments in which you can’t help but get enraptured, such as the wonderfully erratic Instrumental opening, the epic and meandering Sunglasses and the melancholic, romantic groove of the stunning Track X.

For me, this one is a genuine contender that I could easily see being named as the overall winner. In terms of things going against it, I would say it’s simply down to the fact that these next two albums are on the shortlist.

2. Blue Weekend by Wolf Alice

For me, the album that presents the biggest intrigue on this year’s shortlist is Wolf Alice’s Blue Weekend. This is because as much as there are factors working in this album’s favour, there is almost an equal measure working against this record winning the top prize.

Having released their debut My Love Is Cool in 2015 to much acclaim and their first Mercury Prize nomination, there was a lot of talk at the time as to whether the rock quartet could deliver with their eventual follow-up. With their sophomore effort, Visions of a Life, they actually went one better and won the 2018 Mercury Music Prize, achieving further critical and commercial success.

Now with Blue Weekend, the four of them have produced a record that has managed to exceed the high expectations set by the predecessors. At the time of writing, the record is currently sat on a 91/100 on Metacritic, with a 9.2 user score, suggesting widespread universal acclaim amongst both fans and critics alike – so it would certainly be a very popular winner. It also suggests that by all accounts, this record is a more significant achievement than the 2018 album for which they won the Mercury Prize.

So as the only previous winners on the shortlist who’ve also just created their best work to date, they’re a certainty to win the prize again, right? Well not quite.

You see the thing is with Wolf Alice, they have Mercury Prize history working both for and against them. On one hand, if Wolf Alice were to win, they would become only the second artist after PJ Harvey to win the Mercury Prize twice, and also become the first artist ever to win back-to-back prizes for consecutive albums. If they were to achieve this, I don’t think there would be any outcry from the public, as the consensus with Blue Weekend is that it is a very special album and would be fully deserving of such an accolade. However, to achieve this it would mean the judges doing something they have never done before, and something they have only ever done once previously.

Therefore, you must feel on the night of the awards ceremony, it will ultimately boil down to one big debate - Deserve Vs Need. With this album, it feels like Wolf Alice have finally evolved from Britain’s most promising young band, into Britain’s best band working today. They are at the height of their powers right now, with Blue Weekend landing them their first ever UK No.1 album, helping them to instantly sell out tours and catapulting them to festival headline slots. So ultimately, they don’t need the win like they did several years ago to take them to that next level.

That said, this is the best album on the list and feels like a generational record in the same way Dave’s and Michael Kiwanuka’s did the last two years. Just take a track like The Last Man On Earth for example - a haunting piano ballad built around Ellie Rowsell’s powerful vocals, that begins gently before eventually erupting into a glorious haze of soaring guitars and Beatles-like riffs. It is barely six months old and already this song feels like a timeless classic, and you can argue the rest of the album is the same. So, if any album really deserves to be named “Album of the Year” and make a bit of Mercury Prize history in the process, it is very much this one.

Which way the judges lean on this Deserve Vs Need debate I feel will ultimately decide this year’s prize, whether Wolf Alice triumph and make history or whether this next album pips it to the post instead. My gut says that the latter is more likely, but it makes for an exciting conundrum around this year’s winner and will have me rooting on the night for Wolf Alice to prevail.

1. Untitled (Rise) by SAULT

So here we are then, the album I think is most likely to take home the 2021 Mercury Prize…. and kind of predictably it’s the current favourite. Although it may be the boring choice to put this album first, analysing the chances of mysterious musical collective SAULT against the rest of the nominees, it is clear as to why they are looking the most likely at this moment in time.

Interestingly much like Burial when he was nominated back in 2008, no-one really knows much about SAULT other than the fact they make eclectic and vital music, with their identity still very much a mystery. However, despite their anonymity, the last 12 months have seen them create shockwaves throughout the music world, releasing three highly acclaimed and topically urgent albums for which they could’ve been nominated for any one of them. In fact, on Metacritic’s compilation of all critics’ Best of 2020 year-end lists, both Untitled (Black Is) and Untitled (Rise) landed in the overall Top 10, with the latter for which they are nominated holding an impressive critic score on the site of 93/100.

Whereas Untitled (Black Is) feels like the rallying cry, Untitled (Rise) is a record that celebrates black excellence, arriving in a year where the voice for racial equality has never been louder. Bringing together various elements of House, Soul, Disco, R&B and Afrobeats, SAULT have crafted a powerful statement through the pure majesty of their diverse sound. This is a thought-provoking and engaging album that will have you dancing one minute, then contemplating the state of the world around you the next.

Although it would be easy to say they have the benefit of collaborator and last year’s winner Michael Kiwanuka being on the judging panel, I think the real reason this SAULT album seems the most likely candidate is because it makes for essential listening that also perfectly fits with the Mercury Prize ethos. It is a musical collective still in their infancy, making important music that takes inspiration from a vast array of genres, as well as the current social and political climate around them.

Having listened to this record several times now, it is no surprise that many music outlets had this as their Album of the Year for 2020, and I would not be surprised at all to see the Mercury Prize give it that same accolade come September - if music really can change the world, then SAULT are leading the way.

#mercury prize #hyundai mercury prize #mercury music prize #wolf alice #sault #ghetts #celeste #arlo parks #laura mvula #black country new road #berwyn #mogwai #hannah peel #floating points #pharoah sanders #nubya garcia #best new music #albums of the year #album of the year

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zacc-attacc · 4 years ago

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Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark.

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying.

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy.

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds.

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!”

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was.

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi.

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief.

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered.

Davey.

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me.

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying.

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack.

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night.

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him.

His laughter had always been contagious.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers.

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh.

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking.

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight.

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school.

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook.

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang.

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk.

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress.

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang.

“What?”

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore.

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were.

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin.

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night.

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us.

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me.

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me.

Wait, away?

It was only then that I realized how close we are.

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him.

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin.

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried.

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.”

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled.

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?”

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath.

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words.

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on.

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing.

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability.

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears.

His hands were soft.

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter.

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow.

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up.

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are.

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-”

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens.

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me.

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own.

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball.

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake.

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string.

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and-

His lips were on mine.

Too passionately to be accidental.

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough.

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting.

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true.

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream.

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

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thecriticalbuck · 3 years ago

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Why I Wanted To Try Being an Amateur Movie Critic

Hello everyone! This is the Critical Buck (great name, I know right?). I am a movie enthusiast who's decided to try his hand at amateur film criticism. Why you ask? I'm glad you're so interested.

The first movie I ever remember “liking” was the 2002 Sam Raimi film Spider-Man. While I cannot recall seeing the movie in theaters, as I would have been just under five years old at the time of release, I do remember the movie playing constantly in the apartment I grew up in. Luckily, my father was just as happy to watch the movie with me anytime I wanted, as he loved it as much as I did, and my mother fell in love with the character of Peter Parker enough to tolerate the movie’s constant presence. Everything about that movie just worked so well for me at that age. It was serious enough to feel dramatic and “grown up”, yet was stylized to capture its comic book roots that made colors pop and dialogue simple but memorable. Performances were the perfect balance of emotional and over-the-top fun, particularly Willem Dafoe’s turn as Norman Osborne/The Green Goblin, who remains one of my favorite villain performances in the superhero genre. It was action packed, awkwardly funny, and most of all, epic. It was the perfect storm of a movie for a young kid like me. I was such as a fan, I got a poster of a shot from the movie, signed by Spider-Man himself. By Spider-Man himself, of course, I mean whatever guy could fit in the generic Spidey costume at the comic sale I got the poster from. But I didn’t care, it was Spider-Man. And quite frankly, I still don’t care, evidenced by the fact the poster still hangs on my wall to this day.

From that point forward, movies became a constant interest throughout my childhood. My dad’s easy distraction for me on days off from school was putting on any Star Wars movie. I would read the TV Guide magazine to look for any movies I hadn’t seen yet but had heard about from my dad, and then eagerly await the chance to watch them. Both my parents would tell me the stories of movies I shouldn’t have been watching yet, like my dad telling me A Nightmare on Elm Street or my mom telling me Child’s Play as scary “campfire” stories. As a kid, I came up with and drew my own superheroes, inspired by my greatest hero Spider-Man, thinking up all the crazy and fun stories I could. And while I grew and began high school, meeting plenty of other people who had similar experiences as me, I gradually learned that the passion and interest was in more than the ideas of these stories, it was in the medium as well. I didn’t just love superheroes, I loved superhero films. I didn’t just enjoy watching movies because that’s what kids did, I enjoyed them because they gave me new ideas, they taught me new concepts and virtues, and they made me think about what made the stories work so well.

It took me years to learn that those childhood memories and experiences translated to a love for cinema, for the art of filmmaking as a means to tell impactful, meaningful and entertaining stories. And like any person interested in movies, I pondered what I would be in the world of cinema, what I could offer to the art form. My own attempts at becoming part of the filmmaking process, despite my interest, have been few and far between, and inconsistent in quality at best. A friend and I tried conceiving and writing a comic book series in high school, utilizing all the creativity we had to draft interesting characters and stories. Long story short, we were woefully unprepared for the scope of such an endeavor. What else would be expected from a couple of fifteen-to-sixteen year olds with no writing experience?

I was fortunate enough to be able to take a course in screenwriting while I was in college, and I was proud to have finished my first complete draft of a full project: a 10-page short film. Rereading it now, it’s utter garbage, in my humblest opinion (hey, everyone’s a critic, right?). Yet, the entire process of completing the draft gave me the foundation for how to conceive stories and write narratives. Where did that lead me? A number of unfinished drafts, premises, and story ladders buried in a small folder on my computer desktop. Not much to show for, to be honest. But each attempt, each idea, each failure is something new for me to learn from.

And now, in wanting to learn even more about film and my own views regarding film, I'm undertaking a new endeavor: movie criticism. I'm hoping to take a more discerning eye to the movies I watch and enjoy the process of finding the strengths and weaknesses, all the beauty, of filmmaking today.

So, we'll see how it goes!

#thecriticalbuck #movie reviews #movies #spiderman #childs play #nightmare on elm street #opinion piece

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coyotesongwriting · 4 years ago

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Home - Ch. 7

Chapter 7 - A Ring

Chapter Summary: You know what they say about assumptions...

Word Count: 2530

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you enjoy it. I’ve tried a new writing style for this fic and I can definitely say it’s not my cup of tea but I love the story anyways!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

It was the longest two weeks of your life before he came back. You didn’t tell the boys the truth about their father, instead you merely began to teach them about the Winter Soldier. Of course over the years you’d talked about him some, how could you not. Once you knew he was back though, you talked about him daily, telling the boys all about him, what’d he been through, and what he was like after. Every day they asked you for new stories about the winter soldier, and you were more than happy to comply.

When you’d gone to Kalispel with James to pick a dog, he’d fallen head over heels with a rottweiler puppy he’d seen, but the pup was still too young to leave his family. You’d have to go pick him up in a month when he was 10 weeks old. James couldn’t wait, and to be honest neither could you. The idea of a new pup in the house gave you something to focus on, something reliable to look forward to.

At the diner, you found yourself more distracted than usual and sometimes you struggled to focus on what was going on. Luckily you had an amazing staff and they were able to step up and help you out, never pushing you for answers you couldn’t give. Word had spread around town about that day, but no one dared to question you about it. You’d always been a private person, and they trusted you’d talk about it when you were ready.

The first few nights, Ty basically moved into your house and crashed on the couch. You’d worried him when you explained why you had decided to hide your true identity and connections, and he couldn’t help but worry someone would find you in the night. Eventually, you managed to convince him to go home after proving you could kick his butt in a fight and promising he would be your second call - your first call would be to the Avengers.

Every day you waited anxiously for Bucky to appear, and every day you were disappointed when he did not. Every fiber of your being called out to you to hunt him down, but you just couldn’t do it. What if between his time with Hydra and the time spent apart, he fell out of love with you? What if you went after him and someone found the boys while you were gone. No, you had to sit and wait and hope he’d come back. For the first time, you truly understood how Sam and Nat must have felt when you’d disappeared the last time.

On Thursday afternoon, after the lunch run but before the dinner rush started, the familiar bell of your door rang and you immediately whirled around like you’d done every time for the last two weeks. This time though you weren’t met with disappointment.

Bucky stood in front of you, his long hair tucked back behind his ears, and his eyes lingered on you. Time seemed to stop as you stared at each other, truly taking the time to take the other in. His eyes were the same gorgeous shade you’d always loved, but there was a new wall up, he was guarded, unsure.

As he stood there, you slowly began to move towards him, every step was calculated, terrified he’d run away again. But he didn’t move, just watched as you approached. When you were a mere few feet away you paused before racing at him, your arms quickly wrapping around him, your face burrowing into his shoulder. For what seemed like forever, he didn’t move, stiff as a board. But when your tears began to wet his shirt, his arms found their way around you. You clung to each other like a desperate man fighting to hold onto the life preserver.

You fit together like two puzzle pieces, and with his arms around you, the years faded away. It was like he had never disappeared, like you’d never fled with his kids. For a moment, everything was right with the world. Like all good things, it didn’t last long enough. Too soon for your liking, you found you both pulling away, your eyes searching one another for something. You searched for forgiveness, but you couldn’t tell what he searched for.

“Hey, Buck” your voice was a soft whisper as if afraid speaking up would break the spell and he’d disappear.

“Hey, Doll.” The familiar timbre of his voice seemed to echo through the air, and you felt tears begin to flow down again.

Silence lingered for a moment, you were too caught up in the moment to even register that you should respond, but Bucky spoke again, “So, uh… where’s the guy?”

You couldn't quite decipher the unusual tone in his voice, “What guy?”

Bucky looked down at the ground, refusing to meet your gaze, “Ty.”

“Ty?” you questioned, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “Ty’s at work. Why? Do you need to talk to him or something?”

“No, I - I just needed to know.”

“Are you okay, ba - Buck?” you caught yourself as you spoke, the old familiar nickname almost slipping from your lips.

“I’m alive. You?”

“I’m okay” you paused for a moment and when he didn’t speak again you did, “Steve told you about the boys, right?”

Bucky nodded, “You were pregnant? I mean, when I was taken? What are they like?”

A soft smile crept across your face at the talk of the boys, “They’re brilliant and fun and sometimes downright terrifying, and god they remind me of you so much it’s insane.” “Steve said you named them James and George?”

“Yeah, I named them after you and your dad… We’d never talked about we’d name a son so I just kinda guessed what you’d want”

Your hand subconsciously reached out for his, your fingers intertwining like it hadn’t been years since you’d touched. Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, and you didn’t mind when it came to touching Bucky. Feeling him served as a reminder that he was okay, he was alive and there. Buck didn’t pull away at first, but after a long moment, he slowly pulled his hand from yours.

“What uh… What are their middle names?” Bucky seemed awkward, uncomfortable asking.

“James Samuel and George Steven” you smiled nervously, waiting to see his reaction.

It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did you could hear the emotion in his voice, “That’s. Those are perfect.”

“I’m really glad you like them. I figured if I was using my best friend’s name, I should use your best friend’s too. I - I kinda always imagined those are the names we’d pick if we each got to name one of the boys.”

Bucky cleared his throat before speaking, “The names are perfect, [Y/N], really. What do they know - about me I mean.”

You found your gaze locked on your feet as you spoke, “I couldn’t tell them the truth Buck, I’m sorry. I couldn’t risk them telling another kid who’d tell another and then we’d have to run. As far as the boys know, you worked in a mine and died saving someone’s life. It seemed the closest to the truth that I could get without putting us at risk” your voice wavered at the end, worried how he’d react.

When he didn’t answer, you glanced up at him only to find his eyes closed and you suddenly second-guessed every decision you’d made. You should have told the boys once you knew he was alive, you should have come clean. But how would they have taken that revelation? George was never the best at keeping secrets and word would have spread around the school within the day.

“I’m sorry Buck, I didn’t know - you were dead, and then you came back but you left before we could even talk and all anyone would tell me was that you needed time and I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back” you admitted, voice breaking.

A throat clearing behind you drew you out of the emotion and you turned to see Anna, your waitress, watching it all unfold. She’d been on break when Bucky had come in, and apparently, you hadn’t noticed her come back in.

Anna shot you a small smile, “Why don’t you guys take off. We can handle the dinner rush.” when you opened your mouth to argue that you couldn’t abandon them like that, she held up one finger to stop you, “Go.”

“Do you want to come back to the house, Bucky?” you chewed on your lip, worried that he’d take the chance to run again.

When he nodded, you turned back to Anna, “Thank you. Seriously. If you need help please call someone else in. If no one answers, call me please.”

“Of course, now get out.” Anna tossed you the keys from under the counter.

Without a word, you and Bucky wandered into the parking lot. Bucky approached a little black car and offered to follow you home. As you pulled out of the lot in your truck, your eyes remained on the car behind you. Every few seconds you double-checked in the mirror that he was still with you, and when you pulled up in front of the cabin a few minutes later you waited anxiously until he’d turned off the car and climbed out. You kept waiting for him to run away again, to leave.

As you led the way inside, Rex greeted you with a low bark, he’d stayed at home today, not quite feeling like making the trek to the diner. Bucky followed you inside, his eyes wandering over the house. In the kitchen you brewed a cup of coffee while Bucky explored, his eyes tracing over the framed photos of you and the boys that covered the walls. You’d documented every important moment in their lives, and the pictures on the wall told the tales clear as day.

When the coffee finished brewing and you’d poured it into two cups, you followed him into the living room. Bucky had picked up a photo you kept on the table by the front door. It was one of your all-time favorite memories. You’d taken the day off at the diner, and Ty had closed his shop for the day. It was the hottest day of the year and you’d packed up the truck, driving up to the remote beach on the northern part of the lake you’d unofficially claimed as your own. You’d spent the day teaching the boys to fish, splashing each other in the cold mountain water, and when night had finally rolled around you’d had a campfire under the stars. The picture had been taken for you the next morning by a passing hiker. George was holding up the fish he’d caught while James gave him bunny ears and you laughed in the background. Ty’s hands rested proudly on George’s shoulders.

Your voice eventually broke the silence as you took a seat on the couch, “How’d you find me?”

“Rex.” the old german shepherd picked his head up as his name was called, his tail sweeping along the floor where he lay. Bucky took a seat on the couch next to you, his knees brushing yours as he thanked you for the coffee.

“How?” Of all the things he could have tried, you never expected his answer to be Rex.

“Steve told me you picked him up in Texas, and about when you picked him up, so then I started calling around to different vets in the area. Turns out most of them don’t keep their records. One of them did though, and they had record of you bringing him in under your previous name. They had his microchip number on file. I know you, you wouldn’t leave him unregistered. So, I called the microchip company and they wouldn’t give me the information. Tony had to break into their system to get your information”

On one hand, the realization that you’d been tracked down from something as simple as Rex’s microchip number left you facepalming. How had no one unsavory caught up with you if it was that simple! On the other hand, you knew how many vets there were in texas and how many he’d probably tried before finding the right one.

Before you could speak, the kitchen door flung open with a loud bang, and Bucky jumped to his feet as George and James came racing into the house. They didn’t even seem to notice Bucky’s presence as they raced up the stairs, yelling at each other about some new television show that was supposed to be on right now. As Bucky watched them race by, wide-eyed, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Hey [Y/N], whose car is that -” Ty followed the boys in, stopping at the sight of Bucky standing frozen in front of the couch, “Oh uh hi, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine. I should probably go” Bucky quickly offered.

“No, stay. I should probably get home anyways. If I don’t fix that leak tonight the house is probably going to flood.” Ty shot you a quick smile before retreating out the door. When he’d walked in, the tension in the room had skyrocketed but the moment he was out the door everything had gone quiet again.

“Home? He doesn’t live here?” Bucky looked down at you, curious.

“Why would Ty live here?” you raised one eyebrow.

“Isn’t he - Aren’t you?” for the first time, Bucky looked down at the ring on your finger. It took him a moment before he recognized it, and his gaze jumped up to your face as soon as he did, “That’s my ring. That’s - You’re not married to Ty?” for the first time, he sounded like the Bucky you’d known before.

“Ty? Married? God no! He’s my neighbor and good friend, but that’s it. He helps out at the diner, and he’s helped me with the boys, but not because we’re married. His wife died a few years back and we bonded over the whole widow/widower thing, and he gets along with the boys so we kinda just became fast friends.”

When Bucky just stared at you, you glanced down at the ring and thought back to the first time he’d walked into the diner, “That’s why you left the diner, isn’t it?”

When Bucky nodded, you let out a soft chuckle as you got to your feet. You placed your hands on his shoulders as you leaned in to look him in his eyes, “Bucky, there hasn’t been anyone else for me. You’re it.”

His eyes searched yours again, but this time he seemed to have found what he was searching for. His metal hand came up and gently cupped your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips. The kiss started slow, but it wasn’t long before you were pressed tight against him, his hands roaming over you as you tangled your hands in his long hair. You lost track of time as you kissed, too busy getting reacquainted with each other to notice when the boys came downstairs. That is, until one of them spoke up.

“Mom?” James had his hands clamped over his eyes, as if trying to erase the memory of his mom making out with a man he’d never known, “Who’s that?”

You blushed as you sprung apart like startled teenagers, your hands subconsciously patted down your hair and you cleared your throat once, twice, before you spoke, “George, James, this is your dad..”

~~~~~

Next Chapter ->

Taglist OPEN: @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark @redfoxwritesstuff @brokenthelovely @collinsstanharbour @samsgoddess @redhairedfeistynerd @winterisakiller

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #Marvel's The Avengers #marvel #marvels the avengers #Marvel's Avengers #Marvel The Avengers #Angst with a happy ending #angst #angst with happy ending #Avengers #The Avengers #fanfic

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years ago

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Promises - Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary: Tony Stark's wine cooler suffers neglect as Bucky bails on work to rush back to Izzy. Visiting her twice in the same day? Their FIRST day? Bucky is in deep, and no amount of emotional hurt is going to stop him from giving her what she needs. Little does he know that she is just as stuck as he is.

Warnings: Sex, Smut, bit of foul language, more sex, bit of angst. Pretty much gratuitous smut. 18+ only please!

PROMISES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | MOBILE MASTERLIST

Belated Prologue Part 7 – Second Audition

Bucky got back to his apartment with just enough time to shower and get ready for work. All the ride home he thought about Izzy, replaying in his head every look and every sound right down to her soft breathing as she slept. He decided to shoot her a quick text just so she didn’t think he’d bailed on her for a bad reason.

[Buck] Hey, sorry I had to leave for work. You were comatose – cute, by the way. Let me know when you’re up so I know you’re ok after the best sex of your life. I’m gonna assume I passed the first audition? 😉

Bucky didn’t know whether he was overstepping or not but they both had a friendship that was full of mockery and jibes so he figured he was safe. He didn’t know if it was ok to talk about what had happened, they didn’t cover it in the rules so he was just going to feel it out. He wanted to tell her she was wonderful and that he’d not felt like that with anyone else, which was the god’s honest truth. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful and sexy, and that he wanted her in whatever capacity she was willing to give herself to him. He wanted to be with her but couldn’t tell her any of it.

His night at work dragged by, despite being busy. Saturday nights were always packed, even after people started making their way to the night clubs. Stark’s was open until 1am Friday and Saturday but 11pm every other night unless there was a special occasion like a birthday party or late night sports event that was covered on pay-per-view.

Bucky kept checking his phone. He’d sigh, irritated, when he received a text that wasn’t from Izzy. So that was basically all of them up until about 10 past midnight.

His heart jumped when he saw her name flash up on his phone.

[Izzy] Yeah, I’d tell you it was more than alright but I wouldn’t want your head to get any bigger lol.

[Izzy] And no being a creeper! Watching people sleep is for perverts and serial killers.

[Buck] I never said I wasn’t a pervert 😉

Bucky felt relieved. The casual teasing was a sign that everything was just fine between them. He tried to put his mind on the job but found he kept most of his attention on the device in his pocket, the slightest sensation against his leg and he was whipping it out to check if she’d replied.

He was putting together drinks for the last order of the night before he rang the bell for ‘time’ when his phone went crazy in his pocket; a phone call. Hurriedly garnishing the cocktails and presenting the order he rushed the customer away.

He clanged the bell loud enough to wake the dead.

“Time at the bar!”

Then he was checking his phone.

1 Missed Call. 1 Message.

It was Steve.

[Steve] You still coming clubbing after your shift? Me and the boys are in Ikon. Let me know.

He was about to reply to Steve to tell him he’d be there by 2am when another text from Izzy came through.

[Izzy] I think you broke me lol x

[Izzy] I’m not broken enough that I can’t go again though 😉 If you’re free after work? X

Holy shit! So soon? Bucky practically punched the air in jubilation. He replied to Izzy immediately but decided to leave his reply to Steve until he was actually leaving work.

[Buck] Sure thing, doll. I’ll stop by my place for a few things first. Be about an hour x

[Izzy] I’ll be waiting. X

Bucky was already getting that pre-aroused feeling low between his hips. Just the thought of being with her had his head all messed up. He broke 2 glasses as he rushed to clear up and forgot to stock the wine cooler before he left. Tony, who lived above the bar called after him as Bucky almost launched himself out of the side door.

“Does my wine cooler offend you or sum’thin? What am I paying you for here?” Tony grumbled

“I’ll get it in the morning.” Bucky stopped, turning back he gave the man a beseeching look.

“That skirt better be worth it.”

Bucky grinned, shrugging on his jacket. “She is.” He laughed and made a dash for the door.

He drove like crazy to his place, changed his t-shirt, sprayed some deodorant, grabbed a handful of condoms and a pack of gum and left. He drove like crazy the few blocks to Izzy’s place too and she buzzed him in with the kind of haste like she’d been waiting on him.

“Hey!” She said when she opened the door to him. “You got here quick. How was work?”

As soon as she opened the door it was only going to go one way. She’d bathed and was all wrapped up in a fluffy bath robe, her hair was damp still and scrunched up on a messy bun. Her skin looked radiant and the dimmed lights in the lounge were almost certainly purposefully low. When he laid eyes on her he knew there was no way they were going to make it to the bedroom.

She had turned and padded barefoot into the lounge, leaving him to close the door behind himself but when he didn’t reply she turned with a frown.

Bucky was almost certain he looked crazed at that moment. He kicked the door shut with his heel and was on her in a second, herding her backwards against the breakfast bar.

“Everything okay, Bucky?” Her eyes were wide with concern.

“James.” He ground out, tugging the belt of her bath robe until it came loose.

Izzy was quick to catch on, she smirked with satisfaction, and gave him a shit-eating grin when he got the robe open and saw what she was wearing underneath.

He groaned, rolling his eyes up to the heavens in such a show of supplication that she couldn’t contain her smugness.

“Izzy…” He sighed, pushing the rob off her shoulders to fully expose the black and red lace lingerie set she wore. The balconette bra pushed her breasts out perfectly, the lace sheer enough he could see her nipples. The panties were a thong and also sheer. Sheer enough for him to see that she’d shaved everything.

“Call me Bella.” She took a cue from him, asking to be called by something other than what they normally called each other.

It suited her, especially seeing her like this, all sultry and dressed to seduce. Bucky wasted no time cupping her breasts and squeezing them firmly. He stepped closer, forcing her to arch backward over the counter, pushing her hips forward against his.

“Fuck, Bella…” Bucky moaned into the valley between her breasts, squeezing them around his face, massaging them while he circled her nipples through the lace with his thumbs.

Trailing his tongue up the clean skin of her chest, he latched his mouth on the delicate spot above her clavicle and sucked.

Izzy recoiled, pushing him away with a nervous giggle.

Bucky searched her face for a brief moment before lowering his head and teasing the same spot with his tongue. Izzy obviously didn’t want to be marked. Bucky didn’t mind if she claimed him, but he’d never be able to tell anyone it was her mark on his neck.

“No hickeys. Check.” He mused as he shifted his attention to her legs, hooking his hands under her thighs and lifting her until her legs were wrapped around his hips.

His moment of looking at her in awe and exploring the new imagery of her lingerie, was over. The breakfast bar was too high but the stools were not. He deposited her roughly on the black varnished wood seat and shrugged his leather jacket off.

Izzy helped him, by unbuckling his belt as he dropped the jacket on the floor. Soon she was reaching into the open front of his jeans and taking his cock in her hand. He had been hard by the time she’d opened the door to him, anticipation built up until all he could think about was how she felt when he was buried in her to his balls.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock, but you know that already don’t you, James?”

He nodded and bit his lip, watching her stroke him. The intense pleasure combined with the slight thrill of seeing himself in her hand as she teased him with her thumb, spreading his pre-come around the tip and under to where his frenulum was pulled tight, was intoxicating.

Bucky pushed his jeans and shorts down to his knees, pulling the condoms out of his pocket as he did so. He dropped them on the counter, save for two; one of which he tucked into the cup of her bra, the other he rolled onto himself with practiced ease.

“You walking alright after this afternoon?” He asked, breathy from her teasing.

She smirked. “Pretty much.” Her light but bashful chuckle told him otherwise.

“Well, you won’t be after this.”

He pulled her thong aside and buried two fingers in her straight away, earning him a startled gasp. She gripped his shoulders hard and her legs twitched where they were loosely wrapped around his hips. He curled his fingers ruthlessly, repeating the stroking motion against the softness of her g-spot while he worked her clit with his thumb.

Earlier today had been an exercise in control, a chance for him to show her that he could draw out her pleasure indefinitely, make her feel amazing for more than just a few moments. Now, with her clinging to him as he relentlessly broke her down, he was here to show her his masculinity, and how much he wanted her.

Bucky worked her with his hand until the very second he felt her start to come. He pulled his hand free and grabbed her hips, burying his cock in her all the way and stilled, fingers now only working her clit as she cried out and came around his sold shaft that stretched her almost painfully.

“Ohhhh, God!” She cried out, scrabbling to pull him closer, clutching the front of his t-shirt in a death grip.

She felt exquisite, spasming and pulsing around him. Her gasps were half laughs through the disbelieving grin she wore.

Bucky began to move, long slow strokes, pulling out almost to the tip and sliding home with a powerful but controlled thrust. Gradually increasing the speed and forcefulness, he held onto the backrest of the stool with both hands and used it as leverage to fuck her harder and faster. She was already reaching the edge of another orgasm, losing the strength in her legs so they slipped down off his hips.

He tucked his forearms under her knees and gripped the chair again. She was so exposed now and he could see himself spreading her open, each thrust tugging against her labia, the pink flesh becoming more and more flushed as he ravaged her.

“Shit! Bu-.” She choked on his name.

Whether she realised and stopped herself, or whether she just couldn’t get the words out it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the tight pleasure of her clenching around him and the ragged gasping breaths that tore from her throat as she came again, hard enough for tears.

Bucky slowed as she came, pushing her gently through the pleasure, giving her just enough to keep it alive so it wouldn’t just be an intense blinding flash of ecstasy. He’d almost came then too. The sight of her coming undone, seeing himself sliding in and out of her, his sheathed cock glistening with her arousal.

Sweet Jesus!

With his arms still hooked under her knees he picked her up and walked her to the sofa where he lowered himself to the cushions, still buried inside her.

Izzy looked at him then, like he might be a little crazy.

“Who are you and where have you been all my finding Mr Wrong life?” She laughed, giddy and flushed from her release. She had no way of knowing that her words had cut him deep.

His eyes watered to the point he had to close them. It hurt. He was insanely happy but it hurt like a shotgun blast to the chest, he should know, he’d had one. A Kevlar vest was the only thing between him and death. The pain was unreal, and right now he’d take that again if it would only replace this new pain, this fresh hell.

How could he tell her he’d always been here? That he’d been waiting for her. Always waiting for her. He’d promised himself he’d never burden her with his feelings, and now they had rules. He was bound twice by his word to keep all of this inside.

“Ride me.” He gasped as the pain began to sap his arousal. “Use me. Fuck me. I want you to ruin me.” He practically begged her.

And she did, pulling him down by his hair, she smothered him in her cleavage as she began to grind herself on him. She made him forget her words and forget the tears he’d almost spilled. She made him forget he was Bucky Barnes, the man who had loved her since he was just a boy, the man who left his life behind to join the army because he couldn’t bear to be without her, the man who would live every day of his life by her side only in friendship if that was what she needed.

In those moments, there with her taking her pleasure from him, he was only James. An abstract concept of a man, a fantasy, all bravado and cocksurety. He lived each moment to enjoy it and the pleasure they shared. This was the distance he needed, to almost be someone else with her like this.

She moaned loudly, throwing her head back as she began to peak. He was swollen and riding the line between pleasure and pain where he’d kept himself until she was ready to come. There on the cusp he waited, needing only the tiniest of pushes, a feather stroke of something different to pull his focus away from control and fully into the path of the freight train that was threatening to plough through him.

“James!” Her sigh was like a chorus of angels. She was so close, he could see her working for it, struggling to find her release.

With shaking fingers he reached and lightly pinched one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, then harder, twisting it in his grip.

Falling forward with a gasp that morphed into a low guttural moan, she climaxed. Her last act before she began to slow was to return the favour. She pinched his nipple hard and tugged on it until he twitched deep inside her and spilled with a cry that was part pain and part pleasure.

Bucky’s thrusts fell away and they both sat panting, sweaty and dumbstruck, his hands idle by his sides. He couldn’t touch her. He was too raw emotionally, right then.

“Christ! I need to pee.” She laughed and tried to stand, legs wobbling as she climbed off him and staggered away.

Externally he laughed, she was adorable and funny, but inside he was numb. He thought he could do this, the no-strings sex thing. Not with her, he realised too late.

Bucky pulled off the condom and tied it off, dropping it on the coffee table.

“Drink?” Izzy walked past the sofa and went to the kitchen.

“Just water, is fine. Thanks.”

“You gonna tell me about work now?” Her question seemed too domestic now, too weird.

“Not with you dressed like that.” He snorted a breath out nasally.

“Right, right, sorry!” She grabbed the robe and covered herself.

Bucky was shifting his hips on the sofa, already pulling up his jeans and tucking himself away.

“I think it’s best to keep friendzone conversations separate from the sex stuff.”

Izzy looked at him sat there frowning at her and she must’ve known what it was that had gotten under his skin. Her face grew worried as she passed him the glass of water.

He downed it.

“Look, I’m sorry if what I said crossed the line. I guess I didn’t realise how it sounded when it came out.” She looked sad and the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel guilty.

“Yeah, we can’t get caught up in that happily ever after stuff if you want to keep to the rules.” Bucky ran his hands through his hair. He did that when he was tired, nervous, stressed, self-conscious, among other things.

“Scared you’ll break Rule 3?” She teased.

Goddamnit! Why was she torturing him?

“Are you?” His voice was as flat as he could make it, and he stood up to create some space between them. “It’s a rule for a reason, is it not?”

She’d set that rule. He already had feelings and for her to fall for him was his ideal situation. But she obviously didn’t want it that way. She just wanted him for the sex.

“Sorry.” She looked tired all of a sudden. “I’ll do better next time. If you want there to be a next time?”

What was he supposed to say? Yes, he wanted there to be a next time. He wanted to be her every time.

“Yeah, okay.” Bucky sighed heavily.

“Thanks, Buck.” She smiled, almost relieved.

She was his kryptonite. His main vice. But also the thing that kept him ticking. It was wrong to say she was his raison d’etre but she was pretty close. Promises and rules, that’s what kept this thing together, like a fucking band aid to hold together a fractured but priceless Ming dynasty vase. If it had to be, it had to be. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting almost everything he’d ever wanted for his whole adult life so far.

“Bucky?”

“I need a fucking smoke.” He scooped up his jacket and pulled it on. “I’ll be back. Don’t fall asleep, and don’t get changed.” He gave her a crooked smile and a wink.

“Ohhh! God dayum!” She blushed hard. “Okay.”

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