#i was lucky to be there the night roger retired and oh my god it was a lot

[lifeisahighway]

roger posting to his ig story about rafa going to the laver cup. with a pic of them playing doubles FROM THE NIGHT ROGER RETIRED AT THE LAVER CUP oh god it’s happening isn’t it 😭

[lovelyirony]

@rhodee for you

When Tony had gotten back from Siberia, he hadn’t been able to see anyone for a long time. 

But people had been to see him. 

He wasn’t expecting Rhodey to come and see him for a variety of medically-related reasons, but he was hoping for an email or a phone call, at least a message about Tony being a “dumbass.” 

And then he asked Pepper how Rhodey was doing, and she tenses up. 

Pepper has never been a good liar to Tony, not since they got drunk together for the first time and she told him every single tell she had for lying. They could never hide from each other after that. 

“He’s...knocked out, still.” 

Tony raises his eyebrows. 

“So, he’s not knocked out, something happened to him.” 

“Tony, he...he doesn’t remember.” 

“What, the fall? I wish I couldn’t remember that either, but I’m betting that that’s not what you’re talking about.” 

“He doesn’t remember any of us. He doesn’t remember anything except for his freshman year of college. All of this information is...overwhelming for him.” 

Tony freezes. 

He and Rhodey didn’t live together freshman year. Hell, they didn’t even know each other freshman year. They became sort-of-friends near the beginning of sophomore year, and that meant... 

Oh god.

Rhodey wouldn’t remember three important things: 

1.) He’s bisexual.

2.) He’s an accomplished man who has achieved much in his lifetime and has grown comfortable with himself with years of help.

3.) He married Tony. They’re married. 

For a long time, Rhodey didn’t really want to admit that he liked guys. It wasn’t something he ever talked about, nothing he ever wanted to discuss. He didn’t mind that Tony had an attraction to men, but he always seemed to put himself at a distance when Tony brought someone over for dinner or a study session. 

Rhodey didn’t want to come to terms with it at first. He was very adamant that he would marry a nice girl and settle down, and Tony hadn’t contested it, hadn’t challenged him on it. That could have very well been the situation. 

It wasn’t until the end of sophomore year--into the summer, actually--that Rhodey even wanted to tempt to talk about what attraction would even mean for him. 

They had gotten together senior year, and Tony has a picture framed in their bedroom of Tony dipping Rhodey into a kiss (and dropping him after the picture was taken) after graduation. 

“They had to take off his wedding ring for the surgery, but I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The doctors said to avoid bringing up any information that would surprise them, and I remember that you talked about it once...” 

“Yeah,” Tony says thickly, his chest hurting from more than just a frisbee-toss gone wrong. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s, uh...let’s just transfer him over to the headquarters. I’ll just...I’ll figure something out.” 

He can’t tell Rhodey he has a husband. He can’t. The reaction alone would be terrible, if he’s knowing what he knows. 

-

So he doesn’t. 

Tony welcomes Rhodey into the compound after taking down every single romantic photo, briefing everyone who still lived there that Rhodey had lost his memory, and praying to whoever would listen that Rhodey didn’t find out until he was comfortable with it. 

“I don’t go by Rhodey,” was the first thing off of his lips. Not a hello, not a smile. “I go by Jim.” 

“Right,” Tony says, smiling in that flashy way that Rhodey usually told him to stop, because it creeped him out because he knew what that smile was actually all about. “Jim. Nice to see you back.” 

“I wish I could say the same, but I’m not exactly sure I remember you. Your face looks really familiar, though.” 

“Well, that’s what nearly twenty-five years of knowledge can do to somebody,” Tony says quickly. “Let me show you to your room. Sorry about the lack of decorations, we didn’t really want to overwhelm you with anything.” 

“I’m fine,” Rhodey says, clearly annoyed. “It’s just weird knowing that I’m way fucking older and apparently I graduated college and managed to make something of myself and I can’t remember any of it.” 

“I can’t say I understand, but I can say that it sucks,” Tony says. “But, lucky for you, I kept some of your stuff.” 

“A friend kept my stuff?” Rhodey asks. “Why?” 

“Because I’m annoying and you pretend like you hate me, when I am the best thing that happened to you,” Tony says, smiling. 

He then turns when he can see Rhodey’s--Jim’s--expression turn sour. 

“Ah, anyway,” Tony says hurriedly. “You just...keep stuff sometimes.” 

(He’s not going to mention that it’s because they shared an apartment. Or a house. Or a room. Or, on occasion, a bank account.) 

“Dinner is gonna be at seven, feel free to come down,” Tony says, smile wearing thin. 

- 

Jim doesn’t come down. 

Or he did, but he came down early. 

Because he doesn’t want anything to do with Tony. 

“It’ll just take time,” Pepper tells Tony over the phone. “Give him some space.” 

So Tony does. 

But it’s hard giving your amnesiac husband space when you’ve never done it before, not really. 

Tony has always been around Rhodey, always been invading and crawling into his space, and Rhodey really only complained when Tony’s hands would sneak around his chest when the nights were dark and cold. 

Now they’re at a distance, and Tony doesn’t know how to bring up any facts about their life. 

So far, all Jim’s been doing is catching up on history. 

“We fought Captain America?” he asks, gaping at the article about finding Captain Rogers in an iceberg. “Why?” 

“He likes putting his foot in his mouth a lot.” Tony says. “And both sides have been notoriously bad at keeping their cool.” 

“Oh. So we just...I  fought him? Because I’m just friends with you?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, quite uncomfortable with the insertion of the word “just” in that sentence. 

“...weird.” 

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.” 

Jim looks up. 

“Why do you call me that?” 

“Call you what?” 

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.” 

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.” 

“Oh. Gross.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Tony says. “But kinda funny. One time you called me ‘sugar-tits’.” 

Jim laughs at that one. 

“Oh god, that’s...rough. What else did I call you?” 

Baby. Honey. Love of my life. Darling. 

“Uh...” Tony says, pretending to think. “I think love-muffin was also an option.” 

Jim throws back his head and laughs. 

“How did we...how did we become friends?” 

“Well, it all started with a dining hall and you trying to steal an entire painting without getting caught, and my valiant rescue...” 

“Why do I get the feeling that that’s not true?” 

“Because it isn’t,” Tony grins. “Just making sure your bullshit-detector is working again. It is. We met because we weren’t supposed to be roommates but they fucked up and the rooms filled up, so you dealt with me as best you could.” 

“Oh,” Jim says. “What do we do for fun?”

Go on date nights. Talk about how stupid we were as kids. Debate who asked out who. Cook together. 

“Uh, we used to...shoot hoops.” 

“You don’t seem like a basketball kinda guy,” Jim says. 

“Oh believe me, I wasn’t,” Tony responds with a laugh, “but you were, and you always liked kicking my ass on the court.” 

“Good to know that I can still probably do that,” Jim says, smug and self-satisfied. “Hey, where did Pepper go?” 

“Oh, she’s busy with a contract this week, what do you need?” 

Jim puts his hand on the back of his neck in that nervous habit he always got (that Tony only knew about because every single time he would walk into the room after he realized he liked him in that way, Rhodey would do that). 

“Um, just want to ask her something. About my life.” 

And Tony can’t breathe. 

He doesn’t know and that’s...that’s everything. 

“She’ll be back for dinner,” Tony says. “In the mean time, I’ll be in the lab working on some stuff, feel free to do whatever.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

- 

Pepper stares at Jim, who for so long has been one of her best friends and is now asking if he had anyone who he was involved with romantically. 

“You...what?” 

“Did I have a girlfriend or anything?” Jim asks. “Because, um, it’s going to kind of suck if I didn’t.” 

“You had a girlfriend sophomore year,” she answers carefully. “That lasted for about three months or something. You’d have to ask Tony more about it, he knows more about you than I do.” 

“And you said we’re...friends? We didn’t date?”

“Yeah, we are friends, no we didn’t date,” Pepper says. “We get lunch on Thursdays if you’re in town.” 

“I’m in the army, right?” 

“About to retire, too,” Pepper says with a grin. “You were really happy, you were planning on taking Tony on a trip.” 

“I was?” Jim asks, frowning. “We’re...that close?” 

“Well yeah, you’re-” Pepper pauses for a moment. “You’re best friends. You always like spending time with Tony.” 

“Oh,” Jim says. “Okay.” 

He knows that they’re lying to him. He gets why: if he learns too much, it could cause some sort of damage. And according to Friday, “Colonel Platypus” (whatever the fuck that means) keeps his personal life intensely private. 

He doesn’t know why he’s done that. Why he’s kept everything so private. It’s not because of his military status, he thinks. Unless, of course, they put him on all sorts of secret projects. That could definitely be a thing. 

Tony keeps almost calling him Rhodey. It’s a weird nickname. He doesn’t know why he apparently loves it. It sounds...stupid. Weird. Jim works just fine. 

Pepper also said they were just friends. And she sounds like she means it. And Tony says they’re just friends, but he doesn’t sound like he means it. 

But that doesn’t mean...? 

No. Of course not. There would be pictures and rings and all of that sappy, gross shit that comes with weddings. 

...would there be? 

“Hey Friday?” he asks. 

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes?” 

“Um. Is gay marriage legal?” 

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes, it is. Would you like further articles about the decision?” 

“Uh...sure. I guess.” 

He keeps reading articles (with reading glasses) and learns a lot about what’s been going on. 

He’s just interested, obviously. In current events. 

- 

It’s a week later when he asks Tony about it. 

“So...did you remember the whole legalization of gay marriage thing?” he asks Tony, who pauses at his coffee. “I, um. Read an article where they said you were bi, so I wasn’t sure if you-” 

“No, I am,” Tony says. “I remember it really well. I celebrated well that day.” 

he grinned as he looked at Rhodey, and swore to rent out the entire metropolitan museum of art, just for him. he would do anything for him, anything at all-

Jim looks at him. 

“What did you do to celebrate?” 

“Well, there were quite a lot of people at gay bars. We danced. I drank a glass of champagne. And then we danced again.” 

“Someone was with me?” 

“You were,” Tony says. “You were here when it happened, and it was...it was a good day for us.” 

“I’m not gay though,” Jim says with a frown. 

“Doesn’t mean that you can’t celebrate,” Tony says, eyes holding something in them that makes him look like he might cry. “Some people’s triumph can be a momentous occasion.” 

It can the occasion where your marriage is finally recognized everywhere. It’s where you get the iconic photo of mashing cake in your partner’s face, and all of the guests are grinning and you’re happy, and--

Tony shakes himself out of that train of thought. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jim says. “Just...please tell me that you didn’t get any embarrassing pictures.” 

“Oh I did,” Tony replies, grinning maniacally. “Would you like to see yourself in a feather boa or a flamingo floatie?” 

“Oh my god,” Jim moans, throwing his hands to the dinner table. “No...” 

“You looked a dream, gorgeous,” Tony teases. “And I have the pictures to prove it. I’ll get them out another time, I promised Dum-E that I’d help him pick up his mess.” 

“Who is he?” 

Tony grins. 

“He’s our baby, metaphorically speaking. We built him on a half-drunk, half-dare kind of situation,” Tony says. “He’s a disaster.” 

Jim thinks about it for a moment. “Can I...can I meet him?” 

-

Dum-E hasn’t seen his dad in forever. He’s wheeling around Rhodey, beeping and nearly running over his feet. 

“Great, your return has pushed back any build-up coordination training we did,” Tony scolds, although his tone doesn’t sound serious at all. “Dum-E, your father and I agreed to help clean, although methinks that Jim will be a great surveyor for us.” 

“What’d you spill?” Jim asks. 

“Couple of glass stuff,” Tony says. “He’s been really into stained glass recently, I think he was trying to make his own.” 

“He can think?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “His coding, by the way, was like sixty percent you. That’s why he’s so damned stubborn and also why he puts motor oil into smoothies, genius.” 

“Hey, that most definitely was you,” Jim says. “You didn’t grocery shop that day, so I was weak and malnourished.” 

Tony stills. 

“You...remember that?” 

Jim pauses for a moment. 

“You...you were supposed to go grocery shopping and I made a list,” he says, smiling fondly. “And you didn’t take the list because you said you had an eidetic memory, but you still forgot the lemons, so I don’t believe you.” 

Tony throws back his head and laughs. 

“Glad to have a memory for you, Rho-Jim. You want a glass of water or anything?” 

“Water sounds fine.” 

Jim watches as Tony works around Dum-E, obviously used to his quirks and mannerisms as he banters and threatens with nothing backing up that threat. 

He smiles as he wheels himself over, grabbing a dust pan on his way over. 

“Figured we’ll need this,” he offers. Tony accepts it with a smile. 

“Thanks Jim.” 

“You can-you can call me Rhodey. If you want.” 

Tony looks at him for a moment. 

“But is that what you want?” 

Jim pauses. 

“Yes. For now.” 

“Okay,” Tony says, smiling. He’s not showing how fucking happy he is, how ready he is to leap for the moon and bring stardust down on his way home. “Thank you.” 

Jim nods. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” 

“Have a goodnight, Jim. Let me know if you need anything.” 

-

He lies awake in bed that night. 

“Hey, Friday?” 

“Yes, Boss?” 

“I...I’m not being told everything, am I?” 

“Information can potentially be triggering to the current state you are in, Colonel Rhodes.” 

“Are you being paid to say that?” 

“I don’t get paid,” Friday says. “Although if I did, I would not want to take the money.” 

“So I am missing something,” Rhodey says. “I just...I don’t know what.” 

“It will come with time, Colonel Rhodes.” 

“And if it doesn’t? If I have to relive life all over again?” He asks, growing agitated. “If my memory doesn’t come back, Friday...I’m not sure they’ll ever tell me anything.” 

“It is already a good sign that you remembered Dum-E. He was missing you quite terribly.” 

“Can I...can you show me a picture of me with him?” 

“Sure thing, Boss.” 

- 

Rhodey has a sharp intake of breath. 

Right there. 

Right on his left hand. 

A wedding ring. 

And then he looks at Tony, Tony who is looking fondly as Rhodey and Dum-E are reenacting some stupid thing, and there’s a-

A ring. 

On the left hand. 

That wasn’t there before. 

Shit. 

[moldisgoodforyou]

you’re my home

“why do i feel like jj would just love all the domestic aspects about being with charlie. like brushing their teeth together at night or watching her fold her clothes into the space he made in his dresser for her or watching her dance around the kitchen making coffee in the morning. like i feel like he would love the sense of home&simplicity he gets from those moments with her that he never got before from anywhere or anyone else”

inspiration from this ask ^ thank you :) this is just a set of little blurbs about what jj and charlie would be like living together! 

wordcount: 2k

____

JJ wasn’t used to living with someone in such an intimate way. Sure, he had shared a dorm room with five other guys his freshman year, a sleeping dorm with way too many guys sophomore and junior year, and had the perk of a single bedroom in the frat house his senior year - but it wasn’t quite living alone. Living with John B in the summers wasn’t exactly the grown-up life he had envisioned as a kid, then after graduation, he moved into a pseudo-frat house with seven guys. The house was a constant mess and just plain chaotic, but it felt right - he didn’t think he was quite old enough to retire from the college lifestyle. 

Once he got his job out in California, he moved in with Charlie and was quickly thrown into a world of home decor (apparently a hobby of hers he had never noticed). Lucky for her, he liked being handy and was able to help build a couple shelves and such and save a little money. 

At first, they danced around each other a little. They made the abrupt switch from not seeing each other for months to living together in a matter of days, and it was an awkward exchange of being open about finances and squeezing past each other in the tiny bathroom to brush their teeth. But soon they found a groove, and JJ grew to love the pattern. 

Though he would never, ever admit it, JJ was a romantic at heart. He insisted on music during dinner (“it sets the right ambience, Charlie”) and it always depended on his mood, carefully curated for the day.  

After fumbling their way through a dinner recipe together, neither of them being skilled in the kitchen, Charlie insisted on starting on the dishes right away. “I don’t get why we have to do this instantly.” JJ complained, bumping his hip against hers. Charlie shook her head, handing him a dishtowel. “We’re trying to start a routine here. My parents always did it this way and it worked, so.” 

“At my house we just used paper plates and threw them away. Or piled up the dishes for a few weeks and then finally scraped off the food.” JJ reasoned. Charlie just shot him a skeptical look, turning on the faucet. “JJ, I say this in the nicest way possible, but maybe we shouldn’t model our lifestyle after your childhood.” He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” 

After a few dishes, he grew bored and swatted her butt with the towel, making her yelp. “Can we finish?” She asked, giving him an exasperated smile. JJ reached over and shut off the faucet, taking her hands as Love You For A Long Time by Maggie Rogers drifted through his phone speaker. “No, c’mere. We have a dishwasher for a reason.” 

He pulled her away from the sink, roping her into a waltz with a goofy grin. “J.” Charlie protested, but let him lead her into a twirl. “Hush, pretty girl, I’m busy dancing.” He replied, pulling her close. Charlie didn’t hesitate to rest her head on his chest, swaying in a steady circle with him. This became a regular occurrence - she always objected at first, trying to finish cleaning a few more things, but then gave in to his embrace. 

_

JJ also learned there was nothing better than coming home to his person. Their work schedules varied, but most days Charlie was home first if she wasn’t working an athletics event. If he had a bad day, she could usually tell just by the way his texts were short and to the point. One time, after a botched client meeting, he came home and dropped his bag by the door, not bothering to say anything to her as she sat on the couch. 

“Hi to you too.” Charlie teased, following him into the kitchen. “Hey.” He acknowledged, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry and pouring some onto a plate. “Long day?” She murmured, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He softened, turning so he could rest his chin on the top of her head, replicating the embrace. It was the sort of hug you could melt into, knowing you were safe in someone’s arms. “Love you.” He murmured, closing his eyes. She hugged him for a beat longer, then lifted her head to catch his lips. “Love you too, J.” 

_

JJ grew into the habit of waking up before Charlie, partly because he was incapable of sleeping in on the west coast and partly because she was so damn cute when she slept. He learned to cook the basics for her, and always made sure she had a cup of coffee and some toast with scrambled eggs at the very least. (Pancakes were reserved for special occasions.) The first time he did it, he woke up her with barely enough time to get ready and eat. She was caught off guard and tried to show her appreciation, but had to do her makeup in the car that day. After, he learned to wake her up enough in advance. 

The one time he overslept, he felt a weight on his conscience when he woke up to see Charlie already gone. She had to be at work early, but he had the day off, and they had stayed up til 3am last night after mutual agreements of ‘just one more episode.’ He woke up at 10am to a couple texts from her - snoozing in? and not gonna lie I’m hungry lol and immediately felt guilty. 

He dragged himself out of bed, tugged on clothes and shoes, and drove down to their favorite coffee shop by their apartment, then straight to the UC Berkeley campus. JJ parked out front of her office and texted her, leaning up against the car. Charlie came out five minutes later, confused. “What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?” 

JJ held up a coffee and to-go bag with her favorite bagel flavor (that he had to practically beg the baker to make, since they were out). “You said you were hungry.” Charlie grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “You didn’t have to do this, hon, thank you.” He shrugged but filled with pride, knowing he was able to take care of his girl. 

_ 

One day in December, Charlie came home in a bad mood. She let the front door slam shut behind her and barely acknowledged JJ in the kitchen before storming off to the bedroom, flopping down onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. Frowning, JJ stopped his cooking and followed her in moments later. “What’s wrong, did I do something?” 

“No, you’re perfect.” She mumbled into the pillows. He paused before hesitantly reaching out to rub her back, unsure if she was being sarcastic. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He was surprised to see a few tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her head and curled into his side, resting an arm across his waist. “We got the bowl schedules today. I’ll be gone for two and a half whole weeks, including Christmas.” 

“Oh.” He murmured before falling silent. With Charlie’s job as an athletic trainer with the football team at UC Berkeley, they had known she’d have to travel for post-season, but he never considered her having to be gone for so long. “Well, I’ll just buy a ticket, and I’ll come visit you on Christmas.” 

She sniffled pathetically. “No, you have your tradition with the Pogues. You haven’t seen them in so long. And I’ll be so busy with work, I’ll hardly see you anyways.” Charlie sighed, a small pout on her lips. “My mom is gonna kill me.” 

JJ frowned and pressed a kiss to her forehead before running a thumb over her lips. “How about...I go back to the Outer Banks, but I go to your place for Christmas dinner? I’ll check in on your family and everything. And then when you’re back, we can go home again or we can have Christmas with just us. Your choice.” 

She lifted her head, biting her lower lip now to try not to cry more than she already had that day. “Really? You’d do that for me?” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her sweetly. “Of course. I know it’s important to you.” That was enough to break the seal and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of his neck again. “God, I love you.” He laughed softly and continued to rub her back soothingly. “Love you too, sweetheart.” 

_ 

In the days leading up to her departure, he kept stealing extra glances at her as they went through the little motions of everyday life. Sure, they had been apart for nearly six months when they did long-distance, but now that they were back to seeing each other every day again, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle being alone. (He even picked up a habit of flossing just so he had another excuse to linger around her more as she did her makeup in the mornings.) 

Before she left, he tucked little notes in the pockets of her suitcase and backpack, strategically hidden so she wouldn’t find them all at once. Once she was gone, he found himself texting her more than usual - just to check in - until she eventually had to tell him that no, she was not dead in a ditch somewhere just because she didn’t reply to his text within ten minutes. 

At first he had fun with being alone in the apartment. He could do whatever he wanted and had some guy friends over, ordering pizza and played video games with the volume all the way up, kicking their feet up on the coffee table. But after a few days, he felt guilty that the dishes piled up in the sink and his shoes were left haphazardly by the door, so he made a point to tidy up - and proudly showed Charlie how clean the apartment was over Facetime that night. 

He hated every bit of her being gone. He hated the empty side of the bed (so he slept with her pillow), he hated how quiet the apartment was, he even hated that the bathroom counter didn’t have her usual makeup and flat iron scattered across it. JJ had never been more excited to go home to the Outer Banks - not just to see the Pogues, but to see what he considered his second family too. He watched the football game at her parent’s house and had never been more excited to see her on the sidelines, even if it was only for a split second as the camera panned across. 

When Charlie finally returned to Berkeley, JJ picked her up from the airport with a bouquet of flowers and the biggest grin on his face as she dropped her bags to jump into his arms. He hardly let her go a second without touching her, keeping his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the car and his hand on her thigh the whole ride home. He didn’t realize how much he missed her like hell until they were finally together again. 

When they walked into the apartment together, he pulled her into another warm embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her and his face tucked into her hair. “My home is back.” He murmured. 

She pulled back just enough to catch his lips in a kiss, grinning. “What do you mean? You’re in your home.” 

He shook his head, grinning back. “It’s not home when you’re not in it.” 

[keanureevesisbae]

“Never out of practice” - Chapter 3

Summary: When Darcie’s father loses an important case, a killer seeks revenge, by kidnapping the entire Angel family. Though John thought that he was officially retired, he has to save his Darcie and her family, because he can’t lose her.

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Implied kidnapping

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter 

Sunday mornings are my favorite mornings. The cafe opens at twelve and it’s the only day in the week where I don’t have to leave at seven, to prep the cafe.

But, no matter if I have to go to work or not, I get up at six. I just can’t help it. I want to surprise John with a breakfast in bed. When I saw him in bed, so relaxed and precious, I couldn’t help but smile. He really is the love of my life.

Our rose tea is setting, while I prepare Tiki and Oreo’s food, with the two of them sitting near my feet, patiently waiting for their food to arrive.

Tiki whimpers as she stares at her bowl.

‘I know, sweetheart, but have a little patience,’ I say.

I feel two strong arms around my waist. ‘Good morning, beautiful,’ John whispers in my ear. ‘Have I told you that you look really good in my shirts?’

‘You have told me once or twice.’

While I store away the kibble, John places the bowls on the floor. The dogs eat their breakfast and John lifts me up and places me on the counter. ‘How are you feeling, baby?’ he asks, standing between my legs.

‘A little sore,’ I admit, adding a wink. ‘But overall, I feel good.’ I fold my hands in the back of his neck. ‘Why are you out of bed?’ I ask him.

‘I missed my lady.’

‘I was going to make you some breakfast in bed, but now you ruined my surprise.’

John places his large hands on my bare thighs. ‘We can make breakfast together and eat it in bed,’ he suggests.

‘Or you make me breakfast and bring it to me in bed,’ I say with a grin.

He laughs. ‘Or I make you breakfast, but you sit right here, so I can look at your beautiful face.’ John pecks my lips, squeezes my thighs.

‘Sounds like a plan,’ I chuckle and I watch him prepare the pancake batter.

I let out a sigh in content, leaning my head against the cupboard. Somehow my mind wanders off from last night, to what my mother said. I told her that I didn’t want to think that far ahead into the future, but somehow it’s the only thing I can think about, no matter what I do or where I am.

Yesterday, when I saw two little kids in the cafe, with their parents, my heart started beating a little faster. The dad with the four year old girl on his lap, the mom with a two year old boy against her chest, who was fast asleep.

I can see myself having kids with John one day. I thought about it since the first time he called me ‘mommy’ when he spoke to Tiki. Though the birth part still scares the living daylight out of me (thank you for ruining that for me, mother, by forcing me to watch that program), I can see a future with little kids running around our house. Maybe two, a boy and a girl, or three, I don’t know.

I wonder what John would be like as a father. I bet he—despite his upbringing—would be such a loving and doting dad, who would spoil the kids to death, but also discipline them, teaching them right and wrong. He would be so involved, I imagine, especially since he is already retired.

The idea of fostering older kids, I still want that, but maybe a little later, when our own kids are older.

Our own kids…

Well, it’s what I want really. Having kids with him one day.

‘Darcie,’ John says, causing me to snap out of my thoughts.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘You looked a little daze. I was wondering where you were with your mind.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I smile at him and say: ‘Just daydreaming.’

His smile grows wide. ‘Care to let me in?’

‘Nah, think it’s too soon to talk to you about this.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ John says. ‘If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but you can talk to me about anything. I hope you know that.’

I take a deep breath and nod. John is still stirring the pancake batter. I always use the mixer, but I think this is John’s way of showing off. Watching him flex is muscles… I mean, you don’t hear me complaining.

‘Do you want kids?’ I blurt out, unable to keep it to myself. ‘With me, obviously.’

John doesn’t seem fazed at first, but when he looks up, his eyes has widened. ‘You’re thinking about kids?’

‘When we were at my parents and you and dad went out for a drive, my mom was wondering when I would be giving her grandchildren. I told her that that was too far ahead in the future, but since that moment I can’t stop thinking about it. And you are giving me no reaction at all. I bet you’re freaking out, so yeah, I’m going away, to call my mom and to tell her that it’s all her fault that you and I are breaking up, because of this kid thing and then I’ll go to Jennie, because I’m too embarrassed. I’m so sorry.’

I jump off the counter and want to walk away, but John grabs my hand. ‘Don’t go,’ he whispers. He slowly pulls me back, so I’m standing right in front of him. His pointer finger lifts up my chin, since I’m just staring at his chest. ‘I’m not breaking up with you, because you brought up our future. There is no need to be embarrassed for thinking about that.’

‘So you are not freaking out?’ I ask.

‘No, I was just a bit surprised, but I’m not freaking out.’ He smiles at me and presses a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘But to answer your question: I have given it a thought,’ John admits. ‘And well, I would love it to have a mini you or me running around one day. Maybe more.’

My eyes practically roll out of their sockets. He really wants kids with me? Am I dreaming? ‘You want that?’ I ask, just to be sure. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He smiles, thin lines appearing near his eyes. ‘I mean, I can see you being such a lovely and caring mom. I just thought you said you wanted to foster.’

‘I still want that,’ I say, ‘but when I said that, I didn’t know you that well. I didn’t know you were the most caring and loving man I would ever meet. I talked to Eric about it when we were dating, but he didn’t want kids, probably because he was hiding one from me. The idea of having our little kids running around… I can see it happen.’

John smiles. ‘So you want to have kids with me.’ Why does he look oddly pleased with himself?

‘I mean, I could run around Times Square, yelling that I want kids and need some sperm, see who is going to respond.’

He bursts into a loud laughter, hiding his face in his hands. ‘You’re not doing that,’ he tells me, ‘because the only one who is getting you pregnant, is me.’

‘Oh my God, John,’ I say, a blush appearing on my cheeks. ‘You have to say it like that?’

He holds back a chuckle and kisses my forehead. ‘How about: You’re not doing that, because you and I will have kids one day.’

I bite my lip and fist his shirt between my fingers. ‘Yeah that’s better.’

‘I’m proud of you, Darcie.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You never talk about the future,’ he admits, ‘nor do you ever want to think that far ahead, but somehow you—voluntarily—mentioned something that involves our future.’ He shrugs. ‘I mean, you are definitely growing.’

Tiki barks and I look down to her and Oreo, whose tails are both wagging. ‘I think they need to go out for a walk,’ I say.

‘First you and I have some breakfast, than those two are getting their walks.’

⟢⟡⟣

The entire workday I couldn’t help but think about two things. One, how John wants kids with me and two, about how Pete Stanford is a free man. Those things are a horrible combo.

The cafe is about to close and the only two customers who are still here, are Roger and Ellie. It still melts my heart to see the Roger treats his new girlfriend. I love having her around here. When things are a little busy, she gets up from the table and helps us out for a quick second. She truly is one of a kind.

‘Okay you two,’ I say to them. ‘The cafe closes in three minutes.’

‘Almost done, miss Angel,’ Roger says, scribbling something down.

Ellie closes her books and says with a smile: ‘I had to help Roger with his algebra homework.’

‘You are a true angel.’ I place a hand on her shoulder. ‘He is a lucky guy.’

‘I certainly am.’ Roger closes his books and looks at his girlfriend with almost heart eyes. ‘Are you ready to go, love?’

Oh my God, he called her love. I’m going to cry. This is so soft.

‘Yes,’ she says, shoving her books in her backpack. She stands up and wraps her arms around me. Since she has to go to school again, she usually works here at Wednesdays and Saturdays and visits the cafe at Sundays. ‘Thank you for the cupcakes, Darcie.’

‘You’re welcome, sweetheart.’

Roger stands up and gives me a hug. I think Roger might be the sweetest seventeen year old in the world. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow, miss Angel,’ he tells me. ‘Promise.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Roger gently pulls Ellie’s backpack from her hands and holds her hand. Raye opens the door for one of our favorite couples. ‘You bring her home safely,’ Raye says. ‘And you walk her all the way to her door.’

‘I will, miss Clarke.’

She pats his back and closes the door behind them. ‘They are the cutest,’ she says, turning the sign over from OPEN to CLOSE. ‘God, it’s so fucking unfair that even someone as annoying as Roger has a girlfriend. Really makes me wish I had someone.’

‘Your time will come,’ I say.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask this the entire day,’ Raye says, ‘but since you are so prude during work hours, I thought I’d wait until we were closed.’

‘This can’t be good,’ I mumble.

‘Did you have sex last night?’

‘Raye Clarke!’ I yell at her.

Jennie looks up from the sink. ‘Why are you asking her that?’ she asks curiously.

‘Because when John was sitting here, they kept exchanging glances and when he left and she gave him a kiss, it was a little more intense than usual.’

I feel a little bit exposed by this revelation of hers and because I’m not saying anything, Raye starts laughing. ‘I fucking knew it.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say.

‘Of course you don’t want to,’ she laughs. ‘But I do have another question.’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘I mean, besides the obvious sexual tension between you two, there was something else.’ Raye crosses her arms in front of her chest. ‘What was that about? Can you explain?’

JOHN WANTS KIDS WITH ME. I shake my head. ‘No, can’t explain that.’

Raye raises an eyebrow, but leaves it at that.

We continue to clean up the kitchen, the rest of the tables, but as usual, Raye sneakingly is checking her phone. ‘Oh my God,’ she all of the sudden says. She stares at her phone, her brows furrowed together. Before I can tell her that she needs to put that phone away, so she can clean up as well, she says: ‘Your father apparently did an interview five hours ago. Talking about how they would, though Pete is a free man now, will seek justice and put him away for life.’

‘How is your dad by the way?’ Jennie asks.

‘He was supposed to cocoon with my mother, but turns out he is really seeking for revenge,’ I mumble. ‘I haven’t spoken to him today.’

‘Still can’t believe he got away with it,’ Raye says. ‘He is such a psychopath.’

Jennie sighs deeply. ‘Poor girl didn’t deserve to die like that and she certainly doesn’t deserve her murderer getting away with it. Fucking lunatic.’

Raye puts her phone away and says: ‘I’ve got to go,’ she says. ‘I have a friends with benefits appointment.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘You still do that?’

‘Like every month,’ she explains. ‘But only when he’s not seeing other girls.’

Jennie scrunches her nose, thinking about Raye’s friends with benefits. ‘What was his name again?’

‘Logan,’ she answers. ‘I haven’t had sex in four weeks and I really need to get laid.’

‘Your toys not good enough?’ Jennie asks.

She sighs. ‘No, my favorite one broke and my hand isn’t good enough.’

‘Use your shower head,’ I say, without even thinking. My cheeks fire up and I place my hand in front of my mouth. Can’t believe I just let that slip.

Raye lets out a high pitched squeak. ‘Oh my God, how do you even know about that? Did you watch porn? Did our sweet little Darcie watch porn? Never pecked you for that.’

‘No, it’s… God, I was sixteen, still living at home and too scared to buy myself a toy. I read something about that online, so I tried it.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jennie laughs. ‘This is hilarious.’

‘Don’t talk about it. Raye, fucking go and have sex with Logan and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Raye kisses us both on our cheeks and while still cackling with laughter, she exits the cafe.

‘You can go home as well,’ I say to Jennie. ‘I just need to check the register and some paperwork and then I’m off anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asks.

‘Yeah, I’m sure. You worked hard today, so you go home. I insist.’

‘Well, that means I can finally catch up with my series.’ She gives me a hug and says: ‘Say hi to John from me when he picks you up.’

‘Will do.’

After Jennie left the cafe, I’m checking the register and read some of the paperwork. It’s been about an hour since my friends left, when John calls me. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says when I pick up, ‘I’m stuck in traffic, on a Sunday of all days, but I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.’

‘Don’t rush, please. I would like to see you in preferably one piece.’

‘I’d like to be in one piece as well,’ he mentions. ‘I didn’t bring the dogs with me. I took them out for a long walk after we left the cafe and they are pretty out.’

‘You take good care of them, honey,’ I say with a smile. ‘You really don’t need to rush. Have a ton of paper work to do anyways.’

‘I’ll help you,’ he says, ‘so please don’t stress about it, okay?’

Since I really don’t want to read through the pile of paper, I’m quick to say: ‘Okay, I’ll wait for you.’

I walk to the kitchen and clean up some bits that we’ve missed, while chatting to John about how my day was. We briefly mention Pete Stanford, but I don’t want to talk about that for too long.

‘So,’ John says, ‘call me a bit premature, but I looked up some baby names today.’

‘Oh my God, you’re so adorable,’ I chuckle, feeling my heart flutter. ‘Did you see any names you liked?’

‘I did see one name that I really liked. Livia, for a girl.’

‘Livia Wick,’ I say, ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘You like that?’

‘Mister John Wick, I really like how you are thinking about baby names. But please know that we’re not having a kid tomorrow.’

‘No, sweetheart, I understand. I just couldn’t help myself.’ He laughs. ‘Let me ask a question that is a little bit more urgent: would you like pizza for dinner or the left over pancakes?’

‘Left over pancakes,’ I say, ‘but this time I want chocolate chips in mine.’ I hear the door open and say: ‘Oh, you’re here early. Thought you were stuck in traffic, sweetheart.’

‘Darcie, I’m still stuck in traffic.’

I roll my eyes. If it is that stuck up old man again, who demanded Raye would give him her number, I’m gonna strangle him. I walk to the front. ‘I’m sorry, we’re closed,’ I say.

‘There she is.’

My soul nearly leaves my body. What the hell is Pete Stanford doing in my cafe? ‘Maybe you didn’t read the sign, but we are closed.’

‘Just wanting to check in with you.’

That can’t be good. ‘We don’t know each other.’

‘You really think that, Darcie?’

I hear John’s voice through my phone, but I’m too scared to bring the phone to my ear.  I’m too scared to move anyways. He knows my name. Pete fucking Stanford knows my name. Please, John, be here soon. ‘Well,’ I utter, ‘I know you from the television, but I wouldn’t know how you’d know me.’

‘Well, I knew that Christian Angel had a daughter,’ Pete Stanford says. ‘A few Google searches… It didn’t take me very long before to know that his daughter has such a lovely cafe.’

‘What do you want from me?’ I ask him. Please, Darcie, do not fucking faint. John will be here any second. ‘I mean, you won your case, you’re a free man now. Why bother coming to my cafe?’

‘Because your dad ruined my life.’ Pete Stanford looks at me with his piercing blue eyes. He still looks rough, probably didn’t waste a second to go on his little scavenger hunt.

The door opens and four other guys step in, one even bigger than the other.

‘Okay,’ I say, my voice shaking, ‘but what do I have to do with that?’

Pete Stanford laughs. ‘Well, I’m going to get my revenge and it doesn’t take a genius to know what Christian Angels biggest fear is. Something happening to his lovely wife and his beautiful daughter.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ I say, ‘please, you need to leave my parents alone.’

‘I won’t, because I already took your parents and I’m going to let them both watch how their precious daughter will be ripped up in pieces,’ Pete says. He starts to dig through his pocket and shows me a pendant. ‘Does this look familiar?’

Oh my God, that is my mothers. My father gave it to her three years ago and I remember nearly vomiting in my mouth because of how romantic it was and how jealous I was, because Eric never bought me anything remotely nice. ‘What is happening?’ I ask.

One guy takes a step closer and Pete says: ‘Don’t resist too much, Darcie. We don’t want to hurt you just yet.’

I run inside the kitchen, but the guy is too strong and his arms are wrapped up around my body, dragging me to the exit. ‘Let go of me,’ I scream and I try to kick the man. Somehow I manage to kick him on the knee and it must’ve been a weak spot of his, because he growls in pain.

But I also managed to anger him even more. He throws me against the wall and by the time I hit the floor, I’m out.

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @flhorah​ @allie1804-fan @cynic-spirit​ @raven-black102

[fandomliane]

I’m Still Standing (2/3)

This is part two of my submission for the 6K challenge hosted by @tilltheendwilliwrite​ . It’s my first OFC fic so I’m a little nervous! This takes place in an Avengers AU, post Civil War, but I’ve chosen to believe that after a few years, they all forgave each other and worked together without Infinity War or Endgame happening. Yes, I am in denial. Part 3 will be up tomorrow. I need to proofread it once more. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC            Word Count:1970

Warnings: Nothing in this part. maybe some bad Canadian humour and definitely Canadian spelling, but I am Canadian, so it’s allowed.

Summary: I chose Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing”. This story tells the tale of how this song brought Mia Rivers and Steve Rogers together.

I’m Still Standing Part 2

“And did you think this fool could never win

Well look at me, I’m coming back again

I got a taste of love in a simple way

And if you need to know while I’m still standing you just fade away

Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did

Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid

I’m still standing after all this time

Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind

I’m still standing yeah yeah yeah

I’m still standing yeah yeah yeah”

“Oh, no,” Steve groaned as he walked down the hall towards his apartment a week later. He had spent time over the last few days thinking about the cute, curvy redhead who lived across the hall from him. Bucky had asked a dozen questions about the singing once Steve had gotten home the night he met Mia. However, once he’d figured out that the person behind the music had piqued Steve’s interest, Sam had been told and the teasing had begun.

So Steve had avoided her a bit, hoping she was getting over the butthead ex and praying that Bucky and Sam would stop nudging Steve to talk to her or “run” into her at the building. But since that song was currently being blared from her apartment, Steve figured he should do something. But what? He stopped in front of her door and listened to Mia belting the tune out at the top of her lungs, all while he went over his options: ask her to turn it down and see if she was okay or maybe just turn around and go be teased by his friends for running away from the pretty girl.

After about 2 minutes of debating with himself, Steve went to the door intending to knock. Suddenly, the music stopped, and the door flew open, revealing Mia, dressed in a cute, blue gingham swing dress, with her red hair loosely curled and pinned up.

“Steve! Oh god, tell me my music wasn’t bugging you! I went over to your place and knocked. No one answered, so I assumed you weren’t home. God, you weren’t sleeping, were you?” Mia rambled, hoping she hadn’t bothered her newish, very cute neighbour again.

“No, no. You didn’t. I was just getting in, and well, when I heard the song again, I thought I’d check to see if you were ok. I mean, last time you seemed sort of…well…drunk and I wanted to make sure the ex hadn’t done anything to bother you again.” Steve explained, hoping that he wasn’t blushing as much as he felt he was.

“Oh god, that’s so sweet, Steve! Are you sure you aren’t Canadian? Sorry, joking! Thanks, neighbour, but I’m okay.” Mia tried to reassure him, as she patted him on the arm. “I just found out that the idiot ex was going to be at my friend’s party tonight so I needed to sort of psyche myself up for it. Convince myself that I don’t need him, and I’m okay and all that stuff. You know?”

Steve smiled down at where Mia’s arm rested on his. “Sure, I guess I can understand. I mean, my last relationship ended when our career paths went in a different direction” You know, when you went on the run from the law and basically hid for years from Sharon, he thought to himself.

“That stinks, Steve, seriously. But hey, you found someone again, right? James is a lucky guy! You moved on, so I have to believe there’s hope for me!” She stopped as her cell started to ring. “Sorry, Steve, but that’s my ride! I better go. Promise there’ll be no more Elton John playing tonight. Honest! Hey, I hope I get to meet James soon! Night!”

“Have fun!” Steve called back as Mia rushed down the hall to the elevator. She quickly waved back at him, and gave him one of her dazzling smiles. Steve just stood there staring at her as she left for the night. Hang on, what did she mean I found someone again? He wondered. James is a lucky guy? Does she mean Bucky? After a couple of minutes, he shook his head cluing in that Mia thought he and Bucky were a couple. I’m going to have to fix that assumption, he realized. Before she runs into Bucky and Sam.

______________________________________________________________________

Why, oh why, do the good ones have to be taken or in a happy relationship with another man? Mia wondered as she sat at a booth in her friend’s favourite pub. Seriously, who comes to check on a neighbour you’ve meet once after that neighbour has disturbed you. Oh, wait. I know who. Steve. Cutie pie, sweetheart, blue-eyed wonder, Steve Rogers.

“Okay, Mia. Spill it. Why do you keep grinning over here?” Caroline, Mia’s oldest New York friend, slid into the booth across from her. Mia looked at her friend, and tried to wipe the silly, Steve inspired smile from her face.

“It’s nothing, Caro, honest. Just me, having a good time, watching the idiot make a fool of himself.” Mia answered as she kept an eye on her ex, who was currently lurking at the bar shooting looks her direction.

“Nope. I don’t buy it.” Caroline grinned, as she poked Mia in the arm. “You’ve had the same dopey look for the last couple of days, and I want to know why. I mean, I’ve known you for the last six months, and the whole time you were with you know who, you didn’t have that look on your face. Not once.”

“Seriously, it’s nothing. I’ve just…umm…been thinking about the future. That’s all. And why is Colin here tonight?” Mia gave her friend her whole attention.

“He was invited before you guys broke up. Before the incident, you know? I asked Aaron to uninvite him, but he didn’t. I couldn’t figure out why at first, but I think Colin convinced Aaron that he wants to talk to you. I mean, look at him. He’s been trying to get your attention all night.” Caroline pointed to Colin at the bar. Mia glanced over to see him shoot her a tentative smile, wink and a wave.

“Nope. Nope. No. Not happening.” Mia assured Caroline. “I have no intention of talking to him tonight. We talked a few days ago over the phone, and he assured me that the rest of my stuff would be in my possession in a couple of days. I’m not going back. I’m moving forward.”

Caroline leaned forward on the table as she said, “That’s incredibly positive of you, Mia. I mean, if Aaron cheated on me, I’d want to rip his heart out with a spoon and feed it to the crows in the park for at least 6 months or so. But it’s only been, what, a month and you’re looking forward. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, I just, I don’t know. I still hate that he did it, and I don’t know if I will ever fully forgive him, but, I don’t know. It got me to leave home and my safety net, and I really love a lot about my life here. I just…I don’t want to be a rage monster all the time.” Mia continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I have cried and raged. I even got drunk a few nights ago when Elton John and I had a ‘Time to Move On’ party.”

“Oh god. You and Elton John are a force to be reckoned with. What did you do?” Caroline chuckled.

“I may have been drinking white wine while singing along to my favourite. I guess I had it on repeat and annoyed my neighbour. He’s a nice guy. Sweet, you know?” Mia commented as the silly smile started again on her face.

“Amelia Rivers!” Caroline exclaimed. “Have you met someone who interests you already? I am shocked. I am stunned. Hell, I’m impressed!”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Mia assured Caroline. “Steve’s just a nice guy who I annoyed. He lives with his boyfriend, James. I think he said boyfriend, not partner. I can’t remember. Besides, if you saw him, you would know he wouldn’t be interested in me. I mean, he’s blonde, has these beautiful blue eyes that are insane, and he’s really nicely built, you know? But honestly, he’s sweet, just seems like a good human. Trustworthy aura and all that. Hey, he even checked up on me tonight when he heard my music playing again. Steve Rogers is simply my nice neighbour.”

“STEVE ROGERS??” Caroline shrieked as she heard Mia say his name. “Mia, how did you not recognize Steve Rogers? He’s…that’s…he was Captain America before he retired.”

Mia stared at Caroline in shock. She had thought Steve looked a little familiar but thought that was from seeing him around the building and not because he was a celebrity or an ex-Avenger or anything. She blushed when she remembered how she first met him.

“Oh god,” she groaned. “He must think I’m an idiot. How could I not recognize him? Although I mean, I’m not from here, so I don’t pay that much attention to who is saving the world and all that. I’m just thankful the world is saved, you know? It’s not like he’s a big Canadian deal like Nelvana or Captain Canuck, but still…Good work, Mia.” She dropped her head onto the table and groaned again.

“Ummm, Mia, I also think you may be wrong about his lifestyle choices.” Caroline tried to comfort her friend as she reached over and patted Mia’s head. “Steve Rogers retired from active duty, passing the mantle of Captain America to his friend, Sam Wilson. When he stepped down as Cap, he said it was to help his oldest friend, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes adjust to civilian life. There was a whole statement and everything. I mean, he still works with the Avengers, but not the fighting stuff, you know. Now you, my friend, are living across the hall from two bona fide superhero friends, not a superhero supercouple.”

“Oh god, Caro. What do I do?” Mia moaned as she leaned back in the padded booth. “I didn’t even recognize him, and he’s this amazing, world-saving guy. Ugh. Even if I did like him and happened to think he has the nicest eyes and is a big sweetie, someone like him wouldn’t ever be into someone like-”

“Don’t you dare say what you are going to say, Mia. I will get seriously pissed off if you say you wouldn’t be enough for him.” Caroline stood up, looked at Mia, and firmly stated. “Steve Rogers retired so that he could have some sort of anonymity and normalcy, and you gave him that. You didn’t fawn all over him, you didn’t make a big deal about him and chances are, he probably appreciated that. And just so you know, you are one gorgeous human being, so get any negative thoughts out of your head. Just because Colin, the 5-minute wonder, cheated on you is not a statement on you.  You are a curvy woman with a killer smile, a personality as big as Canada, and I, for one, would love to have that hair of yours. When you see Steve Rogers next time, just be you. You’re the person who picked up her life after moving across the continent for a guy who didn’t deserve you. You didn’t slink back home, you went on and you’re kicking ass. You’re the person who is still smiling after everything. You, my friend, are awesome.”

Mia looked at Caroline with a huge smile on her face, and tears in her eyes. She stood up, hugged her friend, and cheekily asked, “Cause I’m still standing?”

[girlafraidinacoma]

In The Lap of the Gods: Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character

Author’s Note: Sorry, not sorry for the incredibly late update dudes. Was super uninspired for months, had a break down, got over it, bon appetit.

( gif credit goes to @queenmercurys.)

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

[Link to Ao3 fic!]

Chapter Playlist:

Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell

Astral Weeks - Van Morrison

Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Ealing, December 1969.

“You’re incorrigible. I’ll never finish at this rate!” Wyn cried, throwing her arms up.

“Nobody told you to leave it until the last minute to work on your project.” He grumbled. It seemed like only yesterday that she began her first day at the Ealing Technical College and School of Art, but December had finally crept in, summoning the looming toll of due dates and unfinished critical projects.

“I honestly didn’t mean to forget, I thought I’d still have a week, not three bloody days.” Wyn whimpered a little pathetically, feeling the mounting panic bubble inside at the thought of not submitting her work on time. Currently, they were seated on the floor at the centre of Wyn’s dorm room, the space her easel usually occupied, cutting out various images and words out of several dozen stacks of magazines, newspapers, catalogues and a charitable helping of Woman’s Weekly – courtesy of Jer Bulsara.

Wyn’s dorm was a site Freddie had quickly grown accustomed to during their past few months of friendship. He liked her place. Sure, there were several others that lived on her floor and there’s only the bare modicum of privacy, but it was a decently sized space for a dorm, generous even, were it not cramped with half-finished canvases and art materials at various stages of use. Despite this fact, Wyn had tried her very best to make it up as nice as she could without having to open a Better Homes magazine. It was a place of barely organized but brightly coloured chaos.

The room itself was divided into two halves, one half where she slept and lounged, and the other half reserved for her work. The narrow bed which she slept in had been pushed up flush against the far corner of the room for the spatial economy. There was an olive-green loveseat with faded upholstery situated opposite the bed, and next to it was her bookshelf (definitely someone’s previously discarded woodworking project), keeping her collection of vinyls, novels and art journals. The side of Wyn’s room that served as her work area had a very large window that provided her place with natural light from about six or seven in the morning to four in the afternoon. Beside the window was a small desk, perpetually cluttered with paper, and a heavy wooden trunk packed to the brim with art supplies. One would think she’d been living there forever with all the stuff she’d accumulated in the past four months; the result of which was an assemblage of mismatched furniture that on its own were rather forgettable or borderline hideous, but somehow miraculously worked together, grudgingly made ‘cool’ by the person inhabiting it.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” As much as Freddie teased, it only took about five minutes of begging and a promise to cover one of his shifts at the Kensington stall for Freddie to generously acquiesce his time to help her out with one of her class assessments, to her supreme relief.

“Besides, they only want proof of concept. The whole thing’s not due until the end of Christmas hols.” Wyn said, flipping to the next page.

“Sure, sure.” The man rolled his eyes, waving a large pair of shears around. “What’s the focus for this piece anyway?”

“Oh, you know, just a bit of social commentary about defining identity through materialism and the like.” She told him, picking up a scrap he’d just finished cutting out, “These little bits here, will eventually be put together and build up a face or whatever, then I think I’d slather some paint on it, use some charcoal and call it a day, probably.”

“Is it still Granger and Warton assessing?”

“Warton is on leave, taking the airs in Bournemouth. Connelly is subbing in.”

“Even better, Connelly likes anything that’s remotely opinionated. He’ll be eating this all up with his Sunday roast.” He laughed. It gave her that smidge more comfort to hear his approval and she told him just as much.

She and Freddie were both dutifully attending to their work when out of the blue, Freddie sniffs the air, saying: “Have I told you how much your room smells?”

“Oops,” The girl said sheepishly, “Sorry. Let me just open a window. Afraid I’ve gotten quite used to it.” Briefly, she pattered away from him to do just that, lighting a rosemary and orange-scented candle, a gift from an aunt who had taken up chandlery upon retirement.

“Yes, the smell of varnish does tend to make the uninitiated rather queasy.” He nodded. “Lucky for you, I know the smell intimately. Unlucky for you, it still makes me queasy. Unless… you’ve become a junkie, in which case there are better highs than paint fumes, my dear.” A hand rose to Freddie’s chest, playfully aghast.

Wyn shook her head with a laugh. “I don’t even realise sometimes, too stuck in my work.”

“Still, you should always remember to take care of yourself. What good is your art if you’re not there to appreciate it? I’d rather have you, than a painting.”

Wyn dropped the page she was holding and looked at him. “Always so sweet. Where would I be without you, my dearest Freddie?”

“Probably still glued to a wall in that function room with the horrible punch.” Fred snarked, letting out an inelegant snort in the magazine his face was buried in.

So far, they were amassing a pretty sizeable pile of clippings and Wyn wordlessly congratulated herself and Freddie for making progress, but the good feeling didn’t last long. The two had been quiet for a while, with only the sound of snipping and paper tearing to fill the silence when reluctantly Fred releases the lip he had been gnawing on for a solid two minutes and clears his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” He says, putting down the pair of scissors he was using. “Actually, I could use your opinion.”

Still focused on an area she was clipping, Wyn nodded. “Spill, it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon.”

He exhaled deeply and gave what could be likened to a formal announcement. “I’m thinking of seeing Mary. Scratch that, I’ve seen Mary and had a cup of coffee with her, and I’ve been thinking about doing that more.”

There was sudden a hush that came about the room and settled in like a third guest. It took her several moments to process and Wyn gently reminded herself to lower her pair of scissors, lest she accidentally hurt a friend. “Wait, Mary, as in 'the coat's BIBA', Mary? As in Brian’s Mary? That Mary?” She gauged him with a puzzled look.

“As in Brian’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, Yes.” Freddie confirmed, not blinking.

“So, you want to go see Brian’s ex, that is what you’re saying?”

“Ex, being the operative word, but yes.”

“You don’t think that’ll put a wrench into things?” She asked with a furrowed brow. “Smile hasn’t even begun performing again yet with you as the lead. Do you understand where I’m coming from, how precarious your situation is?”

“I don’t know,” It was his turn to shrug, eyes large and expressive. “I think she’s sweet and gorgeous and she doesn’t mind my teeth. Wait, where did you hear about Brian and Mary anyway?”

Wyn shrugged, “Roger told me.”

“That gossiping cow.” Freddie scowled.

“Well, no, we were just talking and the subject came up,” Wyn said levelly, grabbing a new catalogue from the stack.

“Oh, it came up naturally, did it?” He asked, picking up his scissors and cutting the page he was on a tad aggressively. “Not that you were asking after a certain boy with a guitar, needling poor Roger until he revealed whether said boy was single or not?”

“No,” She denies, “Roger and I were just talking about that night at the bar, and he just happened to mention that until recently Brian had been seeing Mary and hinted that maybe Brian was still interested in seeing her.”

Freddie had narrowed his eyes. “And Roger told you that, did he? Are you sure this isn’t about you and Roger?”

Her head quirked. “Why would this be about me and Roger?”

Freddie laughed. “Maybe because Roger thinks you’re fit and he’s trying to eliminate the competition by hinting that one of his friends might be keen to reconnect with an ex so that you won’t consider that friend as a potential romantic partner?”

“Or, you’re spinning this intricate web because you’re in denial that Mary wants to be with Brian and continuing to see her might ruin your chances with the band?” She offered sweetly.

“Or, this is about you and Roger.” Wyn had to roll her eyes at that.

“This is so not about Roger.”

“Brian, then.”

“It’s not like that.” She shakes her head, eyes trailing to the ground.

Freddie was not convinced, “I saw you and Brian looking cozy together. In that booth, on the way home, going for a little shopping trip…”

“We went shopping to feed you!”

“It’s probably what set off Rog in the first place.” He said in sing-song.

“N-no, the man doesn’t even flirt with me--” She was growing exasperated quickly.

“So, you admit that you flirt with Roger all the time.” Freddie was a dog with a bone.

“That’s just the way we talk to each other! He just thinks it’s a bit of fun, and I’m not about to let him think he can get a rise out of me.” Freddie could have sworn her voice rose an octave.

"I think you have a crush on him."

"I do not have a crush on Brian."

"Who said anything about Brian?" Freddie cracked a devilish grin at having caught her out. He batted his eyes at her.

The girl, on the other hand, was at a loss for words, opening her mouth and closing it again a couple of times, before scoffing. “Oh, shut up. You haven’t proven anything. Go see Mary then if you’ve already made up your mind.” She resigned, covering her discomfort with a laugh. Wyn looked down and busied herself by neatening the growing pile of magazine and newspaper trimmings she was collecting, forcing her hair to fall and obscuring her face. She absolutely was not going to let her friend see the burning flush she was newly sporting.

Fred chuckled beside her, examining his manicured hand. "I honestly wonder what fantasy world you're living in, darling. You're so caught up in it."

Instead of answering him directly she chose to switch to diversionary tactics. "You say that like it's a bad thing, or like you're not right there with me. You're just as mad as me." She poked his cheek.

"True, darling." He conceded, "I definitely see the appeal; I mean who wouldn’t want to escape this old tedious business for one in a fantasy book?” Freddie sighed dreamily, “I say, human ingenuity peaked when we learned we could just imagine ourselves far away from here.”

The girl hummed, gladdened to finally be talking about something else again. “Where everything is weird and wonderful, and you finally belong…”

“You can be anyone you want to be.”

“And bugger the rules because there are none.” She supplied without missing a beat.

“Get out of my head, Wyn Clemens.” He chided her. “You know, this reminds me of when Kashmira and I used to spend all our time in the afternoons together lying on a dusty floor, making up crazy stories.”

A fond smile came over Wyn’s face. “Oh? What about?”

“Well, tis a tale of a long and arduous quest to save the magical Kingdom of Rhye,” He said indulgently, “Your usual fight between the forces of good and evil, brave knights, lavish castles, rival queens, and a sprinkling of anthropomorphic animals.”

“Ah, but of course! I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She leaned back and drew her legs under her chin. “Pray tell then, merry minstrel, regale me with the story of Rhye.”

Freddie sat a little more upright in his spot, his teeth showing in a big smile. “Alright, so, it all began when the White Queen was abducted from her castle. Now in hopes to rescue her, her brother, the handsome Prince, scours all the land gathering knights…”

Wyn had already forgotten they had been arguing not two minutes ago. It was like that with her and Freddie, they never could stay cross with one another for long, always managing to read what the other was thinking. It was shocking how close the two had gotten in such a short span of time. Suddenly the prospect of Freddie graduating brought a sinking feeling to Wyn’s chest. She silently hoped he’d still have time for her, or would deign to remain her friend. The future always seemed so unsteady. Standing on its precipice, Wyn supposed that if she’d have to drink some horrible punch at some mediocre party, she’d rather be suffering through it with him than without him.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Call Me

obsessedwithrogertaylor said: Can you do an imagine where Deaky reacts to the reader being in a car crash and him getting the news??? Love you ❤️❤️

(a/n: wow writing deaky is so nice he’s such a little angel)

“Drive safe, yeah?”

That was what he’d said before you both left Freddie’s at half past midnight, both about to be heading opposite directions to get to your respective homes. John had walked you out to your car, receiving quite a bit of hell from Roger about being a ‘stand-up chap.’ But he didn’t mind, because it gave him a few more minutes along with you - minutes he usually wouldn’t get since the boys were constantly around.

You had given John a smile in response when he’d asked you to drive safe, opening the door to your car and sitting your purse in your car before lingering at the door for a second, one hand resting daintily on the handle. John was a respectable distance away, standing just on the other side of the door. “You too, Deaky. Hey, call me when you get home, if that’s okay?” you asked, watching him light up a bit at the suggestion.

“Yeah, of course!” he answered, almost too eagerly, and you grinned wider as you stepped back around the door for a moment and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before climbing into your car. You then bid him a good night, closing the door and driving off with a wave.

He called as soon as he got home. No answer. Maybe you’d taken a detour, he thought to himself. He called again in an hour, no answer again. Hm. Odd. He started to worry, and that made him unable to fall asleep, so he called another time thirty minutes after the second call. With no response this time, he frowned and gave up for the night. Maybe he’d taken too long to get home and you had already fallen asleep. Still, he slept in the chair next to the phone, instead of his bed, hoping and hoping you’d call him upon waking up.

When the phone rang finally, he startled awake. The clock read just a bit past 3 am, John blinking blearily and reaching over to grab the phone, clearing his throat and pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered, hopeful that it was you.

But it wasn’t. “Good, you’re awake, Deaky.” It was Mary.

“Mary?” he questioned, unsure why she’d be calling him, especially at this time of night. He remembered that she had retired even earlier in the night from Freddie than even you and him had.

“Listen, Brian’s on his way to pick you up so you won’t have to drive, can you pack up a few things really quick?” Mary asked, her voice a bit shaky. He could hear some shuffling in the background, and the sound of muffled voices accompanied the shuffling. “He’s bringing you to the hospital.��

“The hospital?!” Deaky nearly choked out, a multitude of situations running through his brain as he sat up suddenly, his back killing him from the awkward position he’d slept in.

“Um, yeah,” Mary almost murmured, her voice getting a bit harder to hear. “Y/N’s been in a crash, John. They brought her in here about an hour or two ago, they’ve been scrambling to find her emergency contacts and Freddie’s number was the first thing they found in her address book that was by her purse. We just got here a quarter before three.”

“Jesus,” Deacon breathed out, his heart dropping into his stomach as his blood ran cold. It felt like he’d been hit by a train all of a sudden. The phone dangled a bit out of his hand as he zoned out for a moment, his mouth slightly agape and tears welling in his eyes. Focus, John, he had to remind himself finally, and he managed to regain his grip on the phone and clear his throat. “How… how is she, Mary?”

“She’s getting patched up right now, but she wanted to see you,” Mary replied, John nodding even though he knew Mary couldn’t see him. “I just think you need to get over here, John.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” John agreed, wiping the tears away from his eyes and sniffling. “Thank you, Mary. Bye now.”

“See you soon, John.”

He hung up, and the house was silent for a moment as the heavy weight of the situation slowly sunk down on his shoulders. It was an ominous kind of quiet, and John’s mind was racing as he tried to grapple with the news he had just received.

Like a zombie, he rose from his chair and walked down the hallway, ascending the stairs and making his way to his room. His bag was on the shelf in his closet, and he pulled it down before throwing some clothes haphazardly into it.

Time was moving in slow motion. Y/N, in a crash? It didn’t seem real. He’d just seen you not even two hours ago, fresh, unharmed, and almost angelic under the moonlight. And now you were in the hospital, God knows how you were feeling, what you were feeling in the moment. It was enough to make John break out in a cold sweat.

The only thing to reel him back into reality was the sound of Brian knocking on the door. Three short knocks, and he was forced to come back into the present and zip up his overnight bag after throwing his personal hygiene items in, hurrying down to meet Brian at his door. Upon emerging, he saw Brian waiting down by his car, looking uneasy and fidgeting with his keys. When he spotted John, he nodded and walked back around his car, getting in and starting it as John entered from the other side.

They drove in silence for at least 10 minutes, John unsure how to even broach the subject as Brian carefully navigated the streets of London, making his way to the hospital Mary had given him the address of. Perhaps he was extra cautious, for obvious reasons, because he lingered at green lights a few seconds more after they turned green, and he braked much earlier than he usually did when nearing another car or intersection.

But John had to ask. Frankly, he was too worried not to, and his nerves were almost completely overwhelming him before he finally decided to speak up. “What happened, Brian?”

Brian gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, tensing as he searched for a way to explain. “Mary said she was on her way home, a couple blocks off, and she was t-boned by another car that ran their red light. They think he was, uh, drunk. Mary said the cop told her he seemed a bit slow on the draw, but it could have been because he’d hit his head on the steering wheel when he hit her. He’s in the A&E too.”

John inhaled sharply, looking out the window as they neared the hospital, his nerves setting on fire as he wanted to jump out of the car and come running to you. “And Y/N?”

“She’s a bit banged up from what it sounds like, yeah. Other than that, I’m not sure. I haven’t been in yet. Mary did say she’ll be in a few days for observation, they want to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.” Brian cringed a bit at the thought, his nose wrinkling as he pulled into the parking garage. “She’s mostly responsive, though, so that’s good.”

John nodded, trembling a bit as they finally parked and climbed out. The trek into A&E seemed like it lasted a lifetime, the light at the end of the tunnel being when he spotted Mary down the hallway at the phone. She was just hanging up, and she greeted John with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek as he approached.

“Glad you boys made it,” she murmured, also hugging and kissing Brian’s cheek before leading them back the way they came from. “She just got transferred to the AAU a few minutes ago, I told them I’d wait behind for you two. She’s doing better, fully awake now, so they decided to move her so they could keep the turnaround going for the other patients.” After a pause, she kept talking, sounding a bit more strained this time around. “The driver hit her on the passenger side. She got very lucky.”

John nodded as they walked, just wanting to see you as soon as possible. When they finally made it to your room, Mary held a finger to her lips to make sure they were quiet as they entered, then slowly pushed open the door. Your curtains were completely open, the other three patients in the room having them mostly closed, and your eyes turned towards the door as it opened, John overwhelmed with multiple emotions as he saw the state of you.

There was a smattering of small cuts near your hairline on the right side, probably from glass, and the left side of your face was discolored and swollen from bruises. Your right wrist was wrapped up, and you had a neck brace on, which made you look as stiff as a board. Still, you smiled as you saw John, who looked like he’d seen a ghost as he made his way to your side.

“Hey,” you breathed out, reaching out for John’s hand as he sat in the chair next to your left side and dropped his bag, taking your hand like his life depended on it. Wrapping both of his hands around your own, he looked at you with a worried expression on his face.

“How you feeling?” he asked softly, Brian taking a seat to John’s left and giving you a small smile. You smiled softly back at him, then looked back at John.

“Oh, I’m feeling tip-top,” you joked, John and Brian smiling a bit at your mild attempt at humor. John squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Honestly, I’m just feeling a bit tired, the soreness went away after the meds kicked in.”

“We’re going to go to Y/N’s and grab a few things for her, we’ll be back in a while,” Mary said, excusing herself. John didn’t look away from you though, and if you hadn’t been so exhausted, you might have felt your heart flutter a bit.

After a small spell of silence when Mary exited, Brian spoke next. “Is your car… done for?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat a bit.

“Probably, they said there was a lot of frame damage,” you sighed, looking back up at the ceiling and closing your eyes for a moment. Brian made a quiet noise of sympathy, and John flinched slightly at the disappointment that was apparent in your voice. “I have no idea what all they said happened to me, I was honestly still in shock when they explained it all.”

Brian peeked at the chart hanging off the end of your bed, picking it up and beginning to read it out loud. “Concussion, whiplash, sprained wrist… My God, Y/N, you’re not feeling anything right now?”

“Not really,” you almost laughed out, sniffling and opening your eyes again. “I’m thirsty, though,” you admitted, swallowing hard and wincing a little bit at the mild discomfort it caused.

“I’ll go find a nurse,” Brian said, returning your chart and heading out to the hallway. John watched you quietly, running a thumb over the back of your hand and searching for the right thing to say in the moment. He was stumped, honestly, but that was okay, because you had something to say next anyways.

“So,” you started, glancing over at John and holding back a small grin. “Sorry I didn’t answer your call, Deaky.”

John had to laugh at that, despite the situation, and he kissed your knuckles as he shook his head at you. “Don’t worry about that, Y/N, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled at that, closing your eyes again and squeezing his hand, which was warm wrapped around your own. “You’re the best, Deaky,” you murmured, feeling at home with your hand in his. No matter what the near future was going to hit you with, you knew that John would be at your side to help you fight through it, and that’s all you needed. John was all you needed.

[endeavourfiles]

PARTING COMPANY

5th February 2019 - TOTAL TV GUIDE - by Natalie Tambini

​Shaun Evans slips into the room, full of smiles, his gentle Liverpudlian accent filling the air.

“It’s real!” he grins, as Total TV Guide marvels at his bristling moustache. “Try pulling it off! I don’t mind the ‘tache, but my family aren’t too keen.”

This series is set in 1969, and the facial hair is just one of many nods to a pre-Seventies theme as the Inspector Morse prequel returns. Shaggier hair and flares abound. Gone is the cosy Cowley police station – closed at the very end of the last series – with Endeavour (Shaun) and his former bosses Thursday and Bright demoted and split up. So does this sixth season feel like a reboot?

“To a degree,” says Shaun. “It gives everyone new conflict to play, which is the name of the game, and the new set is completely different. Often we have picturesque Oxford, and introducing brutalist architecture with hard edges and concrete brings a new dynamic to it. So does having two new bosses at the top of the tree.”

The last series ended with a real shocker – the death of DC George Fancy.  The hunt for his killer continues through this four-part run, although it begins with Morse back in uniform and stuck out in the countryside, doing his rounds in a panda car.

“At first I was like, ‘God, this ****ing car, where’s the Jag?” smiles Shaun, 38. “But it’s good for the story for Endeavour to feel slightly humiliated.”

While Bright is on traffic duty, Thursday’s plans to retire are scuppered. He’s dropped down to DI and is in a concrete CID building with two unlikeable bosses – a freshly promoted DCI promoted Ronnie Box and his sidekick DS Alan Jago.

Does Thursday embrace the moustache and the flares? “Good Lord, no!” smiles Roger Allam, 65, who plays him. “There was a discussion about a wider tie, but I resisted that. People, especially of that generation, don’t say, ‘Oh God, I’ve got to change everything about my appearance.’ Indeed, it’s quite the opposite.”

As the plot opens with the cast members at different locations, both Shaun and Roger missed working so closely together with the regulars. “I’ve enjoyed this series less, to be honest,” admits Shaun. “It’s like we’re all passing ships, which I find a bit dissatisfying.”

Storylines include a killing in a picturesque-postcard village inspired by classic children’s shows Trumpton and Camberwick Green, a dead astrophysicist, a missing girl and a murdered librarian. The run has been reduced from last year’s six episodes to the usual four, and the second – themed around the Moon landings – is directed by Shaun.

“I thought that it might be trickier than it was, but I had shorthand with the cast and crew so that made it surprisingly efficient,” he says. “I want to feel like I’m continuing to do new things and not feel stale. You have to push yourself creatively.” So did any of the regulars take the mickey? “No! Thankfully. They were all incredibly supportive.”

Shaun is heavily involved in his character’s development, and with a new love interest popping up this season, he admits he’d like Endeavour to have a night of passion with ex [??] Joan, to end that storyline.

“Or maybe they begin a relationship and one of them says it’s not what they want. But everyone’s got an opinion!”

By the end of this run we find Endeavour in the house where he lives in Inspector Morse (not the actual house, as that has since been redeveloped). So is Endeavour becoming more like the damaged Morse we know? “We’re putting in the footings,” says Shaun. “We are coming to the end, so we have to start making a nod towards that. To be honest, you never know whether Endeavour will be recommissioned. The writer and the executive producer have an overview for it, but it’s always prudent to finish a series in a way which is satisfying, so if it is your last one, you don’t go, “Oh, s***, I wish I’d done this or that”.

Notoriously private, how does he cope with being recognized?

“I’m lucky, it rarely happens. I have a simple, quiet life. Also, the Endeavour audience are perhaps not people who would be up in your grill.

People say you’re cagey, like you have something to hide. I really don’t. I just value my private life, because if I don’t have that, I won’t be able to work. There’s very downtime when filming, so when you’re surrounded by people for long periods, it’s nice to have time to yourself.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Taking Time Epilogue

Master List | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Request:

Could you do a Thor request where the reader is Tony’s sister and Thor and her always had feelings for each other but timing was never right and right after Infinity Wars, everyone goes to regroup and rest, she and Thor find comfort in each other since she doesn’t know where Tony is and he’s lost everyone he love (but her)?

Pairing: Thor X Reader (There’s some platonic Steve feels too.)

Summary: For years you and Thor have had a tumultuous relationship, to say the least. After the snap, you meet up with what’s left of The Avengers at the compound to not only figure out where the hell your brother, Tony, is but also to lick your wounds. Thor is among them and the two of you finally take the time for one another because if you’ve learned nothing from this nightmare it’s that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

Warnings: Loss. 

A/N: My. God. Why. Can I write something and not be heart-wrenchingly invested in the reader character? No, apparently I cannot. I’ve enjoyed going on this journey thanks to my lovely anon requester and I appreciate you all going on it with me. Just going to go ahead and apologize for any tears shed because this def put me in my feels. 

Tags are open!

@disagreetoagree  @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13  @dorkprincess  @badpvn @unalive-mee @breezy1415  

Every single person, even Rocket who had no dog in this fight, was ready to have something to do when you presented them with your plans that night. Things were getting chaotic everywhere. People needed whatever was left of The Avengers to step up.

Clint Barton had turned up the next day, having lost his whole family. You all welcomed him with open arms. While you all thought he’d opt to lay low he instead wanted to work.

Bruce was helping you pick through Tony’s research. Happy to finally be back in a lab.

Steve, Thor, and Rocket were ground ops tasked with going into the selected hubs to more accurately assess the situation. Steve even shaved his beard and donned his trademark red, white, and blue to gain people’s trust.

Natasha and Barton were on covert ops, in times of chaos there will always be people who will take advantage of that. They would sniff out the biggest threats and lay out a plan of action.

Rhodey was coordinating with the government. In the wake of The Event (as all the news outlets were calling it) the Accords were scrapped. The US and really any government was, for better or worse, ready to take any help they could get.

You would intervene in any team as necessary working under the Iron Man mantle. Your suit may be different in color and sleeker in design but there was no mistaking that look. Just like Cap’s patriotic get up it would garner trust.

Ten days after the event, when the teams had been dispatched for their first round of fieldwork F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in while you were in your office sorting through the nanotech research.

“Y/N, I have a pre-recorded message from Mr. Stark.”

Your breath catches.

“Would you like me to play it?”

Would you… “No. I… Fuck… I’ll view it in the lab.”

You run and burst through the doors of Tony’s private lab. In the days since you have been here you’d felt sick every time you thought of coming in this space. Now… Your heart is thundering in your ears your skin covered in cold sweat.

“Breathe,” you whisper. Trying to calm yourself. You place your palms against his main desk, whole body trembling. “Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into his chair.

No paper littered Tony’s space, he scoffed at analog whenever he could. But there were still traces of him left here. A coffee mug with a sip still in it. A book face down to mark his spot. A picture of him and Pepper. And… you cover your mouth to hold in a sob. You and Tony at your graduation from M.I.T. You were on his back, faces pressed cheek to cheek, smiles big and genuine. Rhodey had taken it. You hadn’t ever paid much attention to the photos he kept and this one genuinely surprised you.

Things were always touch and go between the two of you. Two orphans with too much fucking money and too many unresolved issues to function anything like a normal family. But… what was normal?

You’d slept in his bed for six months after your parents’ died because the terror of losing him would wake you up shrieking. He was there. 

When you were at boarding school in England you developed a raging heroin addiction. You’d overdosed behind a seedy pub. Your high society friends left you there rather than end up on the front page as being present when the Stark heiress died. Tony was by your side when you woke up, bleary eyed from lack of sleep and tears. He was there all through your detox… and the next… and the next… He never judged you, never held that against you. 

There were countless times you had failed one another, countless times you screamed both drunk and sober about your hatred of the other. Times when you wouldn’t talk for months… But still you loved each other as best you could.

The picture held tight to your chest you take a shaky breath. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., play it.”

There he is, sitting right where you are, looking morose.

He lets out a long sigh, “You know, Y/N… I’ve been making these things since after the attack on New York. I kinda thought,” he runs a hand absently through his hair making it stand up, “they’d get easier… they don’t. Especially the ones to you. I think,” he clears his throat, “I think it’s because more than anyone I hope you never have to see this. I, uh, have this program set up that if I don’t provide authorization every 10 days F.R.I.D.A.Y. will send this to you. I figure 10 days is a pretty solid indication that something is very wrong. So just in case… There’s just things…” He trails off and leans his elbows on his desk, cradling his head in his hands.

He looks back to the camera, his eyes glassy, voice shaking. “Things that,” he clears his throat again, “that you need to know… that I’ve never had the spine to really say to you before… Y/N, I could not be more proud of the woman you’ve become.” A tear slides down his cheek and he quickly brushes it aside, save for snark and anger neither of you were good with emotions. “God knows that’s no thanks to me. I have no clue how you turned into this light of a person but I do know I’m lucky you’re my little sister. I know things haven’t always been easy, I know I haven’t always made them easy. I’ve fucked up so many times… but still here you are. I guess here we are. Both trying to save the world in our own ways though I do think you’re doing a better job…” That crooked smile curls his lips. “And I know… I know for a fact mom and dad would be proud of you too…” He takes a second, breathing deep.

“You should know that anything good in me, any heroic bullshit I’ve ever done… It wasn’t to save the world or to be a hero. I just…” Tears slide out of his eyes, “I just wanted to be good enough for you, to make sure things were safe for you, first and foremost you… And I know that may be hard to believe since I… I know I’ve apologized but I will be doing so until the end for showing you that video… I,” his voice breaks, “I hate myself for that, Y/N, and for the shit before it… I’m so sorry. If you can tell Rogers… tell him I was wrong… Fuck.” He stands and paces for a minute.

“Anyway,” he breathes deep, “I just need you to know that I’m proud of you, that I love you, and that I’m sorry for all the times I failed you. If I’m gone… well I’m sorry for that too. I hope you have Thor, that big blond idiot loves you even though I’m sure neither of you have admitted it to each other. You should by the way, admit it.” He smirks, knowing. “You should also know that the Iron Man is yours now. Do what you want with it, use it, retire it, find someone you can trust with it, whatever. F.R.I.D.A.Y. has all the schematics you could need and I have no doubt you’ll just make it better.” He sighs. “I’m sure there’s a whole hell of a lot more I should say but this is all the emotion I can handle for the week. I love ya sis. You’re going to be ok, kid.” Then he’s gone.

You sit, unmoving, for what seems like a long time. Then something snaps. Every ounce of sadness, of rage, of fear, hits you. Not once since The Event have you allowed yourself the space to feel this. Holding on to the notion that Tony was somehow alive, that he was coming home. But now…

There aren’t tears just a rage filled roar as you knock everything off Tony’s desk with a swipe of your arms. The mug shatters, frames crack. The desk, now devoid of accoutrement is nothing but a target. With a flick of your wrist the armor encases your right hand and you blast a hole through the top of the desk. You take a step back and release another, and another, screaming all the while.

You don’t even hear Rhodey come in. “Y/N!!” He yells over your screams. “Hey!” Grabbing your arm.

“Get the fuck off me, Rhodes!” You look at him, wild, before stalking away and firing at the glass wall separating the lab from the test area. It shatters with a satisfying crash and suddenly Rhodey’s arms are wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides.

“I got one too, kid,” he says softly and your knees begin to buckle, “I know… I know.” His voice is thick with emotion. “I know it hurts.”

“Oh, god,” you croak and crumple to the floor. The armor retreats and you cover your face the tears flowing freely. “No, no, nononono,” you repeat over and over through your sobs. Rhodey stays behind you, arms wrapped tight around you until your sobs quieten.

He looks around at the destruction you wreaked, “Ya know, there are times I doubt you and Tony are related and then I’m always reminded that there is no doubt.”

Sniffling you pull away and sit on your knees across from him and take his hands. “Why do you put up with our shit, Rhodey?”

He laughs, tears in his eyes, “Because life without the Starks is too fucking boring.”

You shake your head, “You should work that out in therapy.” Both laughing you embrace. “Thank you, Rhodey, for everything.”

“It’s nothing, kid,” he wipes the tears from your face. “You’re family.”

Five weeks pass.

You’re all managing the best you can. Working on a four days on three days home system for the most part. The beginnings of Foundation outposts have been established in New York and Houston, providing medical care, food, and housing to thousands. You and Rhodey were working to figure out a way to ethically and legally seize homes and former offices that were empty to be used for rehoming people closer to the city centers. Things were… as good as they could be.

Every moment you’re able you and Thor find ways to be together. You both make it a point to carve out time every single day you’re apart to at least have ten minutes to talk, to remind one another that you love them. On days when you’re at the compound you sneak off any chance you can, stealing moments to kiss, fuck, and talk. It was as though you were both determined to make up for all the time you lost.

He tells you incredible stories about his childhood. Pranks Loki would play on him, how he’d somehow always fall for it. Battles won and lost. You’d tell him far less fantastical stories about the wild shit you and Tony would get into, the last minute trips to Singapore and Monaco, the debauchery and fuckery. He loved them even though they lacked giants and magic. Those are the best times.

It’s one of your three days with everyone back at the compound for debriefing and taking a breather. You’re all around the kitchen eating whatever is on hand for lunch chatting when F.R.I.D.A.Y. pipes up.

“An unknown spacecraft has just entered the atmosphere.”

“Fuck,” you all seem to groan in unison.

“Can you tell it’s trajectory?”

“I cannot be certain but it seems that it may be heading close by, I’ve tried to communicate but have gotten no response.”

Without another word you’re all bolting for the door grabbing any necessary gear as quickly as possible. You’re fully suited before you’re even outside, Thor close at your side.

“If they’re hostile let me take the first blow,” Thor growls. You nod.

Suddenly you see it clear the trees just to the west of the compound. Without a thought you’re off, Rhodey bringing up your left.

The craft lands with an earsplitting crash, digging a deep ravine into the earth.

“Still no response from inside the craft but I do detect two life forms,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs you.

The rest of the team has brought up the rear while Rhodey, Thor, and yourself remain on the front lines with Thor on the ground and the two of you hovering about 10 feet up.

You hear sounds rumble from inside. “Whoever the fuck you are I highly suggest you come out slowly and unarmed unless you want a hole through your chest.”

Clanking, voices, and a hatch finally bursts free, your weapons hum to life ready to fire any moment.

Hands raised, human hands. “I wouldn’t have given you the fucking thing if I thought you were going to shoot me with it.”

You lose your focus and crash to your knees with a thud helmet retracting and you stare at the haggard visage of your brother.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, shocked, landing with much more grace beside you.

“Stark,” you hear Steve whisper.

“Rogers, Rhodes,” he looks around and you know who his eyes are seeking out.

“She’s not here man…” Rhodey says looking down.

Tony sniffs hard, “I figured. Honestly, didn’t expect any of you to be here…”

You’ve been staring at him, brain unable to process fully what you’re seeing. He’s still a good distance away and suddenly you stand, your feet move of their own accord, suit retracting with each step.

When you’re in front of him you slap him, hard, across his face. “What the fuck Tony!” You scream. You punch him in the shoulder, “What were you thinking?!”

Vaguely you hear Rhodey say to someone, “No, let them do this.”

You push him hard with both hands, “Getting on a fucking hostile alien ship, not knowing where it’s going or what’s happening.” Your voice is starting to crack, you push him again, “with no back up, nothing!” You raise your hand ready to hit him again and he catches it, holding tight, dark eyes that match your own unwavering.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m… sorry,” he whispers.

The fight leaves you in a rush and you collapse into your stupid, reckless, heroic brother’s arms. You both hit the ground in a heap, sobbing into one another. Each of you saying sorry like it’s a mantra, like it will make up for everything that either of you has done to the other. Each of you knowing you are two of the luckiest people alive.

Your whole body is violently shaking, you can’t seem to stop. “Hey, hey,” Tony whispers rocking you back and forth. “It’s ok, we’re ok, kid.” You look up and Rhodey lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I told you, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch,” he says eyes glassy. The two of you rise and the men embrace. “Don’t fucking pull that shit again, Tony.” All Tony can do is nod.

No one else has moved so you all approach the shell-shocked team. Rocket is talking to a blue woman and you can’t even be phased at this point. You reach a hand out for Thor and he takes it, smile bright and eyes filled with tears.

Steve’s eyes are glued to the ground, tension radiating from him. “Rogers,” Tony croaks out, Steve looks up through his lashes not moving, “I’m sorry, man… I…” Steve cuts him off by pulling him into a bone crushing hug. You know they’ll have to work out their differences but you know that right now they’re just thankful to have their friend back.

“Y/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. pops up and you hear a distant rumble. “There seems to be another ship approaching.”

“You are fucking kidding me right?!” You groan, suit slithering up your arms.

“Oh,” Tony clears his throat. “Yeah. Point Break,” he looks at Thor, “picked you up some souvenirs on the way home.” A large ship lands, with far more grace than Tony’s heap had.

Thor looks at you confused, “How the hell should I know babe?”

A hatch hisses open and a dark-skinned woman saunters down. Thor’s face is shocked. “Valk-“

“Yeah, it’s me,” a crowd gathers behind her, “Your orders were to go to Midgard so,” she gestures behind her, “here we are.” It hits you that this ragtag group is what’s left of Asgard, of Thor’s people.

He rushes up to her picking her up hooting. Your jaw hangs open, tears streaming down your face. Thor’s laughter rings through the still afternoon air.

Tony wraps an arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. “Have you told him yet?” He’s smirking.

You cleat your throat, “Yeah… yeah we did finally get that out of the way.”

“Good.” He plants a kiss on top of your hair.

There’s still so much to be done. So far to go. But right now you all take the time to revel in a little happiness, savor this victory, no matter how small.

[ticklygiggles]

The Good Old Days

My squealing Santa for @amazingmsme I’m sorry it’s fashionably late, I had so many ideas that I started over at least 3 times. I hope you enjoy anyway! (Secret Santa)

The evening hours are quiet around Stark’s upper floors, as hard as that is to come across in a large building in the middle of an even larger city, but Steve isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Quiet time is a rarity in itself for people like him and he won’t waste it dwelling on the brevity of it, no sir. He’s going to spend some quality time with a bottle of fine wine and Charles Dickens and -

The elevator dinged.

“Whoever said Sunday is a day of rest was a dirty fucking liar and I hate them.”

Steve chuckled as he continued pouring himself a drink. “ Do you mean God?” The sound of heavy boots accompanied his amusement, followed by a familiar soldier rounding the corner.

“Yeah, that guy. You’d think the government would lead by his example for how much they kiss his ass.” The two men traded grins as Bucky pulled a seat up to the bar, though Steve shook his head.

“Language.”

“Fuck off.”

Oh really now? Steve raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

Bucky shrugged, twisting his lip in a dismissive gesture. “Nah. But you know how it is. Busy.” He accepted the glass that was pushed his way, filled with something dark red and musky. Undoubtedly expensive and fancy as shit, just like the man that owned it. But he didn’t care. Alcohol was alcohol.

“Yeah, I get it. Then again, when has the government ever lead us by God’s example?”

Bucky smirked around a mouthful of Dark Red. “True,” Steve was probably the best leader that he’d ever known, but like hell he would say that and let it get to Captain America’s big head. “All I’m sayin’ is they have got to stop riding our asses so hard.”

“Why, because you’re so old? Maybe you should consider retirement.”

Bucky stopped, drink halfway to his mouth as he stared back at the 100-year-old-fart that dared to insult him like that. Steve just shrugged as he carried his drink to the couch, barely containing a smug smile. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re a real asshole, Rogers.”

“I’m just saying!”

Bucky scoffed with a roll of his eyes, snatching the bottle Steve left off the counter before getting up to join his friend. “Always starting fights.”

Steve sipped from his glass, resting an arm along the back of the leather couch. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but he made do. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The cushion dipped as Bucky’s weight settled beside him, and he could hear the man’s eye roll almost as clearly as his Scoff of Disbelief. “Mhm.”

They staid that way for a while, drinking quietly. The sky became darker and darker as the minutes ticked by, and the atmosphere calmed between the two men slightly.

“You know, things were a lot different when we were younger.” Bucky pondered, swishing the liquid in the wine bottle around.

“Understatement of the year, Buck.”

“No, no, I know - I mean before the war. You were smaller then. You really looked young for your age, even then. I honestly couldn’t figure out why you wanted to go war. You know. Until I realized you were a punk.”

They both chuckled slightly at that, Steve nudging Bucky’s arm. “I guess. You were different, too, though. Seemed like you had your whole life planned out.” And you had both arms, which he doesn’t add because he doesn’t want to spoil the evening-turn-night that they’d stumbled into.

“Me? Nah, not back then. But look at us now, like old men on a porch. All old and nostalgic.”

Steve shrugged, gaze lingering on the other man a little longer than usual. It was true that they were older, but Bucky would always seem like the wiser of the two of them. At least, in some ways. “I don’t know, man. I think you look pretty good for your age.”

Bucky glanced away from the windows across the room, meeting Steve’s look and briefly glancing at his lips. “…Good. Damn skin therapy cost me an arm.”

Steve laughed at that, as inappropriate as the joke was. “Bucky! Don’t talk like that.” He expected some sort of witty banter in return, but his friend just moved in closer, an even wider grin on his face.

“Damn, you know what that reminds me of?”

Steve eyed the other man suspiciously. “Should I?”

“Don’t you remember any of those wrestling matches we had? On the couch cushions, no less. Every time you got in a pissy mood ‘cause you were a sore loser, I’d just…” He chuckled a little, moving closer. “You were so easy, Steve.” He made a wiggly motion with his fingers.

Steve took that advancement for what it was and shifted an entire cushion over, muscles tense and ready for a chase if necessary. “Bucky, I think we outgrew all of that crap a long time ago.” That was grown up talk for ’don’t you fucking dare.’

But Bucky was never one to back down from a challenge. He saw that look in Cap’s baby blues and that look was good old fashioned fear, alright? The fun kind. “If you say so…” He trailed off, setting the wine down next to the glass that Steve had ignored for a while. “But aren’t you even the slightest bit curious if it still works?”

Still works? Steve raised an eyebrow. “Uh, not really? I’ve had a lot of o- umph!”

The blonde was silenced with a couch pillow to the face, which threw him completely off guard in the two seconds that it took for Bucky to tackle him to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

The struggle actually lasted longer than most of their childhood matches had ever gone. Now that Steve actually had meat on his bones and the muscles to go with it (not to mention special training), getting himself free by maturely smacking at Bucky’s face was easy!

Except Bucky didn’t have an arm made of vibranium when they were kids either, and Steve couldn’t shove that weight off his chest if he wanted to.

Did he even want to?

Steve sputtered as he continued to push against Bucky’s iron (ha) hold of his upper body, using his heels to push against the floor - but that only pushed him father back into the bastard’s chest. “Buck- James - damn it, let go!”

“Language, Captain!” The other man teased, a little breathless from taking down 200 pounds of American Beef but otherwise unharmed. “Now what was that you were saying earlier about how I should retire?”

Steve was about to snap something snarky in response, but then he felt fingers “adjusting their grip” on his ribs and he stiffened completely. “Bucky. Stop it.”

Bucky grinned knowingly, loving how absolutely screwed his captive was under his grip. Steve might have gotten bigger, but he was still a snot nosed kid, and he was going to get his ass handed to him again. Just like the old times.

“I don’t know…” He tsked. “I mean, I knocked you down just like that, Rogers. Maybe you need another lesson, huh?”

“Oh, you got lucky! I- I’m drunk! You’re drunk! Let me gohoho - no!” Steve squirmed against the fingers that rippled against his ribs on either side of the tight hug he was trapped in, biting his lip and grunting.

“C'mon, Steve! You remember this now, don’t ya?” Was it too evil to enjoy the hell out of something that childish? Even if it was, Bucky didn’t care. Listening to his friend laugh was always a good time and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Meanwhile, Steve suffered. He wrenched against Bucky’s hug of death so so so so many times and yet he couldn’t escape those deft fingers for the life of him. It felt so bad. It was awful horrible, cruel torture, but more than anything it tickled. so. bad. And when those fingers dug inbetween Steve’s lower ribs?

He cracked.

There he was, Captain America, a hero. Giggling like a little bitch because the winter soldier was tickling him to relive his sadistic memories. Of course.

“Was that so hard, Steve? It’s gotta be coming back to you now, right?”

“I hahate you!!” Steve squealed - squealed for Christ’s sake! - slipping down further in Bucky’s grip to the point that his head pushed back against Buck’s shoulder.

The most horrible part was that Steve did remember. He remembered being a sore loser and whining about losing unfair wrestling matches and then - then there was this. Bucky pinning him, getting him to laugh so hard his stomach hurt, those quick hands and that warm smile…

It went on for minutes before Steve slumped back against Bucky entirely, limp and twitchy despite the fact that fingers were still exploring his ribs and sides with gentle scribbles and spidering up-and-down movements that never seemed to lighten up.

“I-I give! I gihive, plehehease…” He breathed, giggling interspersed within his begging.

Bucky stopped then, grinning down at the pile of blonde mush he’d created. “Got you good, didn’t I?”

Steve didn’t have the energy to answer, so he tried to make his breathing sound disgruntled as he recovered from that ridiculous assault.

Bucky let go of him slowly, and Steve pushed at him sluggish the moment he did.

“Just remember that the next time you decide to disrespect your elders, yeah?”

“ Screw… you. ” Steve huffed, but he clearly wasn’t as angry as he pretended to be.

Bucky knew that. And he smiled as he stood, ruffling Steve’s already-mussed hair. “Oh, and by the way?” He stopped to pick the bottle of wine off the table, reading the label. “Neither of us get drunk anymore. Perks of working for the government, remember?”

Steve heard the elevator ding a few minutes later, and all he could do was smile.

“Yeah. I remember.”

[hillywooddestiel]

Miss One Night Only

Characters: Steve Rogers x reader (sort of), Sam Wilson

Warnings: talk of smut, an awkward situation I guess

Word count: 1.4k

Description: Y/N is her own person and does whatever the hell she wants, no matter what people say. Steve thinks he’s the one that can change all of that…

A/N: Hi! This is for @emilyevanston Marvel Trope Flip Challenge and also to celebrate the birthday of everyone’s favourite star spangled hero. The trope I chose to flip was the one where a person has a lot of one night stands and another person comes along to try and change that. So happy birthday to Steve and enjoy! P.s. this is set around the time just after Age of Ultron xx Marvel Masterlist

Story:

Slut. That’s one of the words people like to use when describing Y/N Y/L/N. Wild child. That’s another one that people use when trying to be a little more friendly about it. Home wrecker. That was just one time. But it doesn’t phase her, not in the slightest. Y/N loves her life. Avenger by day, major club-goer at night. Dancing with a hot guy, showing him some moves on the strobe-lit dance floor, going back to his place for a night of fun. That’s just a standard night.

It’s not meaningless sex. Meaningless would imply that there is no reason for it ergo Y/N might as well have stayed back at the compound. No, there is meaning behind it. For one, it provides much needed stress release- many failed missions have been taken out on handsome strangers. Punching bags can work too, as well as vibrators, but boxing can get a little tedious and batteries always run out eventually. For two, sometimes it’s necessary. Being an Avenger, having a partner and being happy together isn’t really an option. Clint managed it but he’s retired now because of it and he can never be truly sure that no one will come after his family. Sleeping with other people in the compound isn’t ideal either for, at some point, feelings always get involved. Strangers are easy and come with no strings attached (provided that you use protection obviously). And for three, it’s fun. Fact.

Saturday morning. The usual routine. Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment, stretches, gets dressed into her clothes from the night before and leaves before the other occupant of the bed can wake up. Sometimes she’ll grab a coffee and something for breakfast on her way to the subway. Not today. It’s just after five so it’s a little too early for food plus, if she’s lucky, Sam will have made his secret recipe pancakes for breakfast back at the compound and she’ll be able to nab a few for herself. The train is quiet- the few people that are onboard are either too tired to shoot their disapproving glares or they’re in the same boat. Her car is in the same parking lot where she left it, unscathed thanks to Stark’s defence systems put in place- Y/N’s body processes alcohol much faster than most people so she’s okay to drive each morning after. By the time she’s pulling into her designated parking space, it’s nearly seven. She can see Steve running what is probably his tenth lap of the compound (and he’s not even sweating) and Rhody lagging extremely far behind, out of breath with his sodden t-shirt clinging to his back. Time for a hot shower, she thinks, noting her wrinkled dress and suspecting her makeup will be a hot mess.

A towel wrapped around her head, Y/N follows her nose to the kitchen, mentally planning which toppings to put on her pancakes.

“Mornin’ Bubbles. Pancakes?” Sam offers, a tea towel slung over one shoulder.

“You bet, Tweety Bird.” She hops up onto a barstool as a short stack slides her way. Suddenly ravenous, she loads her plate with bacon and smothers it all with syrup. “Fanks!” she thanks him with a mouthful, some of the sauce dribbling down her chin.

“Pancakes Steve?”

“No thanks.” Steve wanders into the kitchen, grabbing some oatmeal from the cupboard and milk from the fridge.

“So, I guess you met someone nice last night.” Sam changes the topic from food, sitting down to enjoy his own breakfast.

“He was okay. A little full of himself but he could dance. You should join me next time, I’ve seen two or three different girls with Falcon tattoos.”

“Really? Any of them not look desperate?” He jokes, shoveling food into his mouth like somebody might take it away from him.

“Not as desperate as this one girl last night with a Captain America bra on. She was swinging around the dance pole with two mini sequin shields covering her chest.”

“One for each-”

“Uh huh. Very patriotic.”

“I think I’m gonna eat this in my room” Steve pipes up, walking out of the kitchen very quickly. It’s strange behaviour for Steve but it doesn’t faze Sam or Y/N, who continue chatting contently.

EDM blasting through the speakers, Y/N powers through her run on the running machine, watching the raindrops drip down the window. Feeling the burn in her lungs, she grabs her bottle and gulps down water, still running as she does so. Sweat rolls down her back and her cheeks are burning hot from the exercise. When somebody turns off her music, she pauses the machine and slows to a stop, grumbling internally at whoever entered the gym to disturb her.

“What!? Oh hey Steve!” She starts full of hostility but changes when she turns around- had it been an agent who turned her music off, she would have been making them run for the hills. It’s strange; he’s not dressed for a workout or a mission in jeans and a Henley.

“Hey. Can I talk to you?” He approaches as Y/N dries her sweat with a fluffy towel.

“Sure, what’s up? If it’s about the music, I can wear earphones.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh. Well then shoot.” She downs the last of her water and takes a seat on one of the benches. Steve takes a seat too, albeit on the opposite end of the bench.

“It’s about you actually.” He begins, taking his damn time getting to the point. “You like to go out clubbing. And that’s fine. I’m used to that. You also like to go home with different people-”

“Where are you going with this Steve? I know you’re a bit traditional sometimes and times have changed and whatever. I’m not doing anything wrong if you’ve come to lecture me.” Y/N sighs with frustration. She hears it all the time. She should settle down. She shouldn’t sleep around: men can but she can’t. She should calm down the partying if she wants a husband. Strangers are some of the most judgmental people around; thinking they know all about your life and what you should do with it. But, she never really thought she would get this trouble from Steve.

“No! No, I’m not… no. I- I'm… you know what? I’ll just go, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Steve stands up quickly and hurries out of the room, not quite fast enough though.

“Hey, no! What is it that you wanted to talk about? You know I hate people keeping secrets from me.” Y/N jumps up after him, moving to grab his arm and turn him back around. She stops him in front of the doors by speeding ahead and blocking the doorway. “Spill it!”

Steve stands for a while, his mouth moving like a drunk goldfish with no words coming out of it.

“Oh my god Steve! Just tell me!” Y/N almost whines, getting very impatient and on the point of walking away. At her outburst, he snaps out of it. Hands on her forearms, he pulls her in and lays his lips on hers. It’s nothing romantic: she’s kind of sweaty and has her eyes open both in shock and confusion. Pulling back, Y/N presses her lips together in thought.

“Sorry… I didn’t know how else to say it. I like you Y/N and, yes, it does sometimes bother me when you go around with strangers all the time.” he explains, letting her go again.

“Um… not what I was expecting, I’ve gotta say.” She laughs nervously. How do you let someone down easy? He’s Mr Commitment and she’s Miss One Night Only. There’s never going to be anything between them. Nothing serious, anyway. “Look, Steve, you’re really sweet and I’m sure you could make a girl very happy. But… I’m not that girl. I don’t plan on settling down anytime soon. I’m sorry.”

“Oh! Well um… that’s okay. I’ll just uh…” he hangs his head down, stepping to the side to leave. Y/N hates to hurt his feelings but at the end of the day, she feels nothing for him in that way. She feels nothing for anyone in that way.

“Hey, Steve!”

“Yeah?” He turns to face Y/N again, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I may not be that kind of person but… if you’re ever just looking for one night of fun, I’m your girl.”

[sebspocketsquare]

T’s first con experience

Let me just start this off by telling you how much of a nervous wreck I was about this weekend. Meeting Sebastian, being in a space with so many people, a city way larger than the one I currently reside in, and the possibility of meeting one of my most treasured friends? All things that made my anxiety go through the roof. Experiencing them all at the same time? Well..

Friday

I arrived about two hours before the Con was going to close for the evening. I decided to go anyway, so I could walk around and map out where everything was. I’m the type of person who likes to know where all the exits are, just in case I need to bolt last minute. My nerves will be the death of me. (Shoutout to @mindingmyownbusiness for being my voice of reason and not letting me back out. I’m lucky to have you.)

Upon entering, I immediately went to find @plumfondler. Let me just tell you, she is even more lovely than I could have imagined, and I am thrilled to know her. (Elle, I miss you already.) Just having her there put me a little more at ease. 

After sweating my ass off and walking around the entire building at least three times, I decided it would be best to retire for the evening. 

Saturday

The thing I remember most about Saturday were the cosplayers... Just... wow. I really admire anyone who has the dedication to do something like that. Some of the costumes were so detailed that I almost thought they could be real. (Seriously if you cosplay that’s fucking awesome.) I got a few pictures with some of my favorites, met the lovely @jayattemptstoruletheworld (thanks for being so sweet and fanning me so my face didn’t melt off, you’re the real mvp), ate con food for the first time (meh), aaaand walked until my feet felt like they might fall off. Sean Astin was less than three feet away from me at one point, and I was so starstruck that I just smiled like a creep and quickly walked away. Later that night, I got to have drinks with Elle, which is something I’ll always treasure. 

I had a hard time falling asleep that night.

Sunday

I wake up Sunday morning long before my alarm goes off, and I already feel like I’m going to throw up. I spend at least an hour in the bathroom, telling myself not to, and giving myself silent pep talks in the mirror.

When my breakfast arrives, I eat maybe three bites, my anxiety getting the best of me. I start to question if I really can do this. Did I underestimate how anxious I’d actually be? At this point, I’m sure I’m going to throw up on Sebastian as soon as I see him. What if I can’t go through with it? What if I faint? Oh god, what if I cry?

I get dressed and put my makeup on, scrutinizing every detail of myself in the mirror before I leave, trying out different smiles before I settle on one that looks semi-real. I'm trying my best to channel my inner Steve Rogers as @mindingmyownbusiness told me to do. “I can do this all day. I can do this.”

When I arrive at the convention center, I ask someone how exactly I get to room 124. They give me all the information I need, tell me that they’ll start lining up for the meet and greet at 11:30, and I think I’ve calmed down a fraction, but then I see the line of people to get into the convention. I feel like I should’ve been there earlier. After waiting in line for an hour, I’m finally inside and I can take a breather… for now.

I wander around for awhile, waiting for the alarm I’ve set for 11:20 to go off. When it finally does, I nearly run to the escalator to make my way back downstairs.

The corridors I walk down are quiet and pretty much empty, but when I finally reach the room, the sight before me makes my stomach drop.

There are at least 25 people ahead of me.

I should have gotten here earlier.

I wait patiently in line for about ten minutes before they start filing us into the room. I see everyone bolt for the first two rows and I try not to feel too disappointed when I’m seated in the second to last row, right beside the photo-op set up. I’m worried I won’t be able to see him clearly.

A super cute, but incredibly anxious redhead comes up, asking if it’s okay if she takes the last seat beside me. When I say “of course”, the look of relief on her face makes my heart swell. “Oh thank god, I was so worried you’d say no.” She’s just as nervous as I am, and it makes me feel better.

I start to talk to her a little bit, she tells me how she’s met Seb, Chris and Mackie before, but she’s still so nervous to see him again. She’s afraid she’ll forget how to speak. I feel for her. I tell her to try to breathe, and remember that he’s just a person.. yes, he’s an incredibly talented and beautiful person, but he’s just a man. And he’s probably just as nervous as we are. It takes a lot out of a person to do these meet & greets, I’m sure.

I tell her what I would want to hear if I was in her shoes.. coincidentally, I am.

As if he knows we’re talking about him, Sebastian walks into the room, and my heart stops the first time I hear him speak. “Hey.”

He tells us that due to time restrictions, he only has an hour with us. He looks disappointed, but I think we were all just so appreciative that we got to spend ANY time with him at all.

He answers a handful of questions, fidgets nervously, I think he even sat on the table at one point. He’s so much more stunning in person that I can’t help but smile like an idiot the whole time.

He walks towards the photo area, and I can see him glancing around the room at all of us.

He’s standing 5 feet away from me when his gaze lands on my arm. He does a double take, his eyes go wide with excitement and his mouth falls open as he whispers, “oh my god.”

I feel myself blush, and all my brilliant ass can come up with to say is, “Yeah, that’s your face.”

He immediately rips his phone from his pocket, coming closer. “That’s so amazing. I’m posting this RIGHT NOW. Can I post it?” I’m so stunned by the fact that he’s talking to ME that all I can do is nod. He grabs me by the wrist and takes a photo of my arm. He murmurs a quiet thank you, and then pulls back, turning his back to me.. only a few seconds pass before he returns and holds his phone out to me. “Tag yourself. Please.”

I look up at him with what I’m sure is a petrified face, and he just nods at me, encouraging me to take the device from his hands. I do so, trembling, and do as he’s asked. When I hand his phone back, he smiles and thanks me, before turning away again.

I’m so stunned I barely hear the girl sitting behind me when she asks if she can see, too. I talk to her for a few minutes in a daze, until Netania comes over with a smile. “Hi, sorry! Can I see it?” She asks. When I show her, her eyes go as wide as Sebastian’s. “Oh my god that’s beautiful!” I tell her thank you, and tell her it’s not finished. She looks appalled. “What do you mean it’s not finished? It looks just like him. Amazing.” At this point, I’m sure I must be dreaming.

I remember turning to the woman on my left with a dazed smile. “I think I might need someone to pinch me..” She just laughed softly.

I wait in my seat patiently while the first few rows get their pictures with Sebastian. When it’s finally time for our row to fall into line, my hands start to shake again. The closer I get to him, the worse it gets.

I’m finally watching the person in front of me get her photo taken, and I have to remind myself how to breathe. I remember watching his hands hold her, and all I’m able to think is “Oh god, he’s about to touch me.”

When she walks away, he turns to me with a bright smile, holding his hands up between us like he wants to lace fingers with me. I’m so nervous that I bypass his welcoming embrace and blurt out, “Can I touch you? Is that okay?” His smile grows and he nods, his hands finding my upper arms. “Of course. Please.” Is his response. I rest my hands on his chest and look up to meet his eyes. My knees wobble and I feel my face flush.

As if he can sense the effect he’s having on me, he smirks and lets out a soft chuckle, right before the flash goes off.

I wanted to live in that moment forever.

I reluctantly pull back, mumble a quiet thank you and walk past him. His gaze follows me over his shoulder as he calls, “I love your hair by the way.” I look at him, and he’s still smirking. I laugh nervously and thank him again before getting in line to wait for my print out.

At this point, I’ve died and gone to heaven. I still can’t believe all of this is happening. Of all the scenarios I came up with in my head.. none were like this.

I sit and wait for my picture to be printed out, chatting with the people around me. I think we were all feeling the same way: did we really just meet Sebastian Stan? We were high off his presence alone.

Once I’m told that it’s time for us to get our pictures autographed, I patiently await my turn, starting to shake again when I hand Netania my picture with my name written on a post-it note. She enthusiastically greets me before sliding the photo to Sebastian. He looks at the photo with a smile before looking up at me and saying my name. My heart stuttered in my chest, and luckily I had written him a letter with everything I wanted to say in case my voice failed me. It did. I slide the folded up pieces of paper to him and he grinned when he handed me my photo. His last words to me were, “Thank you.”

I still don’t think it’s set in that I met him. I still can’t believe that he was so much more sweet and charming and wonderful than I ever imagined.

This weekend was one of the best I’ve ever had the honor of experiencing, and I want to treasure every single moment of it for as long as I can. Thank you Wizard World for giving me the opportunity to create beautiful memories with so many amazing people. I will never forget how I felt this weekend.

[naomi-owens]

                                                            WILMINGTON TASK 002 ; QUESTIONNAIRE

ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

The question had been one she was expecting, and one that immediately brought a faint smile to paint over her light pink lips. She was fiercely proud of her childhood; it was something she would never get tired of reminiscing — as her two parents always made sure the Owens’ children were well taken care of, and sculpted into proper human beings. “I am, yes. Born and raised over in Masonboro.” Naomi answered. “We actually have stuck around the same house since my oldest brothers were born. It’s sort of that modern, yet traditional Southern style farmhouse with daphne plants up the walkway and a really, really big backyard with a barbecue on the deck and a fire pit right smack in the middle of the yard. They struck lucky with getting the property for cheap. Fun fact, it was actually built on a apple orchard years and years back…” Naomi trailed off, swiping some loose curls from her eyes before chuckling to herself. “I can’t wait to get back into that house properly. Alex’s place is fancy and nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Taking a moment to inhale a deep breath, lulling over the memory of her childhood home that her parents worked themselves to the bone to spruce up, Naomi sat up a bit straighter in her seat to continue. “I honestly can’t sit here and tell you how nice my childhood was because it was…incredible. It’s going to sound super unrealistic. My parents literally did everything for us and worked off their bare back. I didn’t fight with my siblings more than the usual annoying little sister who just wanted to hang out with her three older brothers. We were middle class, but my Mom and Dad worked so hard we hardly ever were aware if we might have been struggling. I went to school, got amazing grades and made amazing life long friends. My older twin brothers were star soccer players, Dominic was just lost in photography and art, and I went on to join the volleyball team, cheerleading squad, and the high school band league. We had family dinners every Thursday night, my parents made our friends feel like children of their own, we all attended church down in Forest Hills on Sunday…I don’t know, it sounds all too good to be true, but it was literally the perfect childhood. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

“They’re the worst. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to deal with them for as long as I have…” Naomi faked the idea though was shaking her head, unable to take her own joke seriously. She loved her family far too much to ever carry on such a joke — the topic of her parents, her siblings, her aunts and uncles always brought a sudden warmth to her heart. She was cheesy in that sense, as nothing made Naomi more happy than the fact that she could honestly say she was tied with a beautiful, wholesome family with their own little whacky quirks. “Anyway, no, being serious… I’m close with everyone. It’s kind of insane how we managed with how we came to be. Quick history lesson! My Mama was actually born up near Burlington before she moved over to Wilmington in high school. My grandparents, Sofia and Ivan Burgos, were born in Burlington as well. My great grandparents on my grandma’s side, however, originated over in Ukraine before they picked a random place on the map in America, or one that was at least well established, and picked up and moved. They moved to the states when my grandmother was eighteen, and brought my grandfather with them. I actually never got to meet them, but from what I learned from my Ma, I got the sass from my great grandmother, Eva.” Naomi chuckled some more, twisting around the small cross that dangled around her neck once the topic moved to her father. “My Dad had lived here for generations. He’s the more Americanized side of my family, thus where I’ve gotten the true Southern trait, and the Owens last name. My father’s family has lived here since…God, I can’t even count. He used to tell me all these stories of my grandparents and their time in participating in those horse races, even making it to the Kentucky Derby…My Dad ended up losing his parents when he was in his twenties, a few years after my twin brothers were born, and his sister not long after that due to illness and an accident. So really, my Dad was all we ended up having from that side of the family. He did a really good job of keeping the tradition of the Southern Owens name and family alive, even if how our own little family started was a bit unorthodox…”

Naomi then exhaled a deep breath, realizing she had began to ramble a bit more off topic than necessary — but at the end of the day, she rarely got to ramble about her family’s history. It was almost like she was taking advantage of it to reminisce herself. “Anyway, my parents were both born in 1959, and they met when they were freshmen in high school. Fourteen, I believe? They both went to New Hanover. Long story short, they fell in love, got together, and somehow and some way my two oldest twin brothers came before they could even graduate. That was the seventies so… teenage pregnancy was really frowned upon way more than it is now. It just didn’t happen…especially with twins. They basically got the blessing from their parents and got married before my brothers were born, moved into a tiny apartment, and my Dad started working in construction. My Dad ended up dropping out of high school to take care of my Mom and the twins, while my Mom finished high school and got her diploma. She went on to grab a job with the county as a clerk for some politician and got lucky, because that job earned her a retirement and a pretty big chunk of change to put into our savings. It honestly still amazes me how they did it…My grandparents were very little help because of their “traditional” values.” Naomi trailed off once more, dampening her lips with the smile still evident on her features. “So basically, that’s how we came to be. Roger and Joseph were about ten when they moved into the house we have now, then my other brother, Dominic, was born, then five years later I was born.” A deep breath was exhaled from her chest when she finished her long ramble, adjusting her weight within the seat and crossing one long leg over the other. “I honestly think our history is what made us so close. You know? We’ve been through so much, we all worked so hard. We shared a loss of my Dad three years ago, we shared a childhood that was the best one we could be. Even now, when I’m living with my mom in her old age and Dominic is traveling the world, and my other two are nestled up in Forest Hills starting their careers and family, we still manage to make it work. We’re all still in contact. It’s incredible.”

DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“Traditional,” Naomi began to laugh, before she was shaking her head and waving her hands to try to steer back to the point she was making. “And that’s not like…it’s not a bad thing. No. It’s just…you know when you watch a movie and those teenagers are literally living the perfect lives? Perfect life, big group of friends who always hung out on Friday night after a football game? That was it. That was my life, and I honestly loved it. Granted, we added our own twists and spices of our own sort, but that was it. I joined as many teams and clubs as I could to get to know people, because little Naomi Owens was stuck in her brother’s spotlight and legacy he left if she didn’t try to step out of it.” Naomi laughed, poking fun at Dominic’s popularity within her high school…especially with the female population. “I met some of the very best people of my life there, and those who are still the most important to me. I met someone I hated then, then ironically almost went on to marry.” Naomi shrugged at the thought of Tristen, though briefly recalled the time where Tristen and Jaxon spent more and more time together in the shared hallways, which resulted in her next comment. “Met someone who I still cannot stand but manages to make perfect, little babies with Alicia—, I met Amy… I met my best friend. She became my sister. I spent more and more time with people from middle school. We went to cheer camp, cheer competitions, cheered at those football games and partied at the Taylor house where we drank too much bad beer and almost got caught by the cops. We went to prom, and killed it. Had bonfires down at Wrightsville…I got good grades, I think I fell in love... I truly had the time of my life in high school. Sometimes, I honestly wish I could go back.”

WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“Oh God, I got two.” Naomi laughed. “Best Eyes, and uh—, Most Likely to Brighten Up Your Day, which I think both are extremely accurate. I mean,” She then went up to playfully frame her cheeks, like she was showcasing her facial features and her big multi colored hues for the opposing person. “Plus, I’m not one to object that I can make someone’s day brighter. It is my goal, anyway. You don’t get the nickname of ‘Sunshine’ from multiple people for nothing, you know?”

WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“I ended up going to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which is why I’m still so directly involved with their galas and the first responder charity balls. I’m a loud and proud alumni.” Naomi hummed out her answer playfully, ironically sporting the traditional colors of her alma mater, with the Carolina blue laced within her white blouse. “I went back and forth for half of my senior year on where I wanted to go. I knew I wanted to go to college, and I had the best grades I could have so I could basically go anywhere I wanted and have a great chance at getting accepted. I was in love with music, but I was more in love with the idea of spreading the knowledge and the love it could bring rather than constantly performing it, and making money off marketing my talent. So, the decision to get my teaching degree was kind of made up immediately. I loved school and the simple math and English class anyway, so why not?” She then began to laugh, tapping her manicured fingernails down on her knee. She could remember the night she applied for UNC vividly. It was after a long talk with her father on her goals, dreams, and what she wanted to accomplish. It was one of many that she had shared with that man, and one she truly had taken to heart. It resulted in her climbing out of bed to grab her laptop at two in the morning, lighting up her bedroom with the computer screen and spending the next five hours on the application that would grant her an acceptance to one of the better schools in the South…and as close to home as she could possibly get. “College, anyway, was kind of like high school. It was just a whole other ballpark. At the time life was changing, which is to be expected, but I’m not personally a big fan of change.” Athena had been gone to California by then. Rhett was up in New York, making small visits with his then girlfriend. Things had changed, people had changed drastically. She made new friends, and new lifelong friends. “I joined a sorority for a hot minute. It wasn’t my cup of tea, I ended up declining the bid I got from this girl after the week I spent there. The parties were great though.” Naomi laughed some more. “But no, it was nice. It’s where I got to know Tristen really well. I got my own apartment for the first time —, with a roommate of course, got close with Alicia (@aliciapvlmeiro) , then came student teaching, then eventually graduated with my teaching degree.”

WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“There was a few, but none as deep as the next person’s.” It was a little fib that left her mouth before she was releasing a chuckle to follow to mask the mood killer, brushing back a few loose locks of hair from her eyes. “As cliche as it might be, my Dad passing a few years ago definitely shook me up. It changed my entire life. My Dad was practically my best friend and, well, his death was kind of sudden. One day he was a healthy man nearing the end of his fifties and the next we’re getting a call he suffered from a heart attack on the job site that literally killed him.” Naomi paused, forcing herself to suck in a sharp breath in order to actually get through explaining the year that followed. “The months after his final day were…hard. I’ve never seen my Mom so distraught. She was a whole other person. I can’t blame her considering her and my Dad had been in each other’s life’s for nearly half of their own, but still. Seeing your Mom like that…It’s a whole other ballpark, and it was like for at least five months my family shut down on themselves. My brothers used the excuse of their own lives to ignore the fine details that my Mom needed help with. Dominic literally fled the country to “travel” for work and Roger and Joseph…they hid themselves behind their wives for a while. At that point my Mom was hardly taking care of herself; she wasn’t eating properly, she wasn’t taking her own medication, wasn’t attending her doctor’s appointments. Moving back in with my Mom after being on my own wasn’t ideal, and it basically ruined my relationship at the time, but it was kind of a given.” Shrugging her shoulders, Naomi shook them afterwards as if she was shaking of the gloomy cloud that hovered over her whenever she talked about that year. It was hard, and took her quite a while to be able to talk about without suffering from one of her classic panic attacks. “I think it definitely shaped me into being more grateful for the little things, and living in the moment. You don’t realize half of what you have and you take them for granted more often than not.”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

The question sort of snuck up on her, and the hammering in her chest was surely noticeable. It was an easy answer, with plenty of complicated underlying layers. She had been in love twice in her life, and both times had differed tremendously. “I’ve actually been lucky. I’ve been in love twice, and while life kind of screwed me over, it still reiterates the fact that love will forever be something to believe in. When you experience a great love not only once, but twice…you can’t help but imagine what might be in store for you next.” Naomi could still recall the very moment when she was hardly eighteen years old clad in a tiny part of jean shorts, loose blouse and drink in her hand as she danced upon the tailgate with her friends on the beach, including the young boy she had fallen for. She didn’t know it then, how could she? She hardly knew anything she wanted back then, but with the logics laid out in front of her now she knew she was very much in love. She knew so with the way it was so easy to hop down and allow her feet to carry her across the sand to the teenage boy that made her heart flutter, and throat close up to feel like she was suffocating. She knew, and it was the ultimate reason why she ended up granting him the gift of being her first — despite the fact that he never was aware of that little fact, she did date once or twice other than Rhett Sullivan, it still secretly meant something to her. It was a young love that she was sure of back then, then fizzled to the back burner once he made the grand move and time and distance forced the two to become a distant memory that could still be warm to the touch. Tristen came along years later and pulled her from the slumps, and displayed himself as a completely new person from the obnoxious teenager she despised in high school. He was older, mature, dreamy and smart. It was difficult not to fall in love with him after so much time of dating, and day dreaming about a time together when he could slip a ring on her finger and make the transition from their apartment to a house filled with kids one day. Naomi smiled at the memory, allowing herself that brief moment that wasn’t swarmed with bitterness and frustration she felt over the overall ending that came with Tristen, and instead allowed herself to reminisce the good parts in peace. 

“I’ve been in love with two amazing guys, with years between them. The first was a young love, kind of the teenage dream type of thing…We never said it, we didn’t have to. He knew.” Naomi nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear once again. “And then the next grew over time. I hated that guy at first. He was everything I despised in a person for the longest time, and yet years later he matured into someone I grew to love. I swore I was going to marry that guy…” Trailing off, Naomi then shook her head. “He’s gone now. Things didn’t work out, for obvious reasons. I think he’s in Chicago now with a really good job, and even if I’m a little bitter, I hope he’s happy. He deserves it.” Her body shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable within her seat, her lips pressed together once more. “As for the future? Of course. I don’t believe anyone is limited to one or two great loves. If we’re lucky we’ll find that one right off the bat, others have to go through a few to find the one that lasts.” She couldn’t help but let her mind wander off to a taller man in particular, one she found herself kissing only weeks prior. There was an annoying and overwhelming feeling that struck her chest whenever Alex had invaded her mind, or even had been brought up. She wasn’t so sure she could go as far as to smack a label on it and call it love, as that would just be insane. It was new and scary and sort of out of her element, and perhaps that was why she was so quick to run away from it. One thing she couldn’t deny, however? It was something, and plenty had saw through her denial already. Shaking her head free from the thoughts, Naomi twisted back to face forward, licking her lips nervously. “I think it will happen for me, soon enough.”

WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

“January 3rd, 1987. Freshly thirty one, baby.” Naomi joked as she playfully pumped her hands into the air, settling back into her seat before she fell out of it in laughter. “I’m a Capricorn though, and honestly? Not really. I don’t really check in with those horoscope things daily or read up on matchmaking signs and all that. There’s a teacher at my school that’s crazy into the constellations enough for the rest of us.” Naomi laughed some more, the deep laughter rooted from her belly and shaking her shoulders ever so slightly. “It’s totally weird, though. I’m not into it but I can’t deny that when I read something that’s supposed to relate to my sign, it’s accurate. Like…it’s weird, and kind of trippy.”

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“I love summer. I love, love love summer around here. You’ve got all those shops near the ocean or at the Riverwalk opening up for the season, the weather is nice enough that you can withstand the beach for longer than a half hour, and the mood is kind of—, it’s just warm, with this orange and yellow-ey feel that’s hard to beat. Not to mention I get a whopping two and a half months off to myself to do whatever the hell I want.” Naomi grinned as she mulled over her answer. She was always happier when the sun was shining, even if she could appreciate a good rainfall that left a brisk feeling in the air and a clean slate for the ground beneath her. Summer was well on it’s way and well, Naomi was itching for it. “I kind of do a mix of things over the summer since my free time is wide open. For a few extra paychecks I teach a few classes down at the recreation center for the summer, it’s mainly teenagers catching up on credits or adults that want to try something new. It ranges from art classes, pottery classes, creative writing classes and piano lessons. Those only last throughout July and maybe take up two or three hours out of my day, so the rest is kind of bouncing around. I’ll do some shopping, spend some time amour at the lake or the beach. I’m a water baby, so if I’m not doing anything that requires clothes and shoes, I’m in my swimsuit near some body of water either messing around or lounging.” Shaking her head, Naomi then laughed some more. “Considering Alicia and I just bought a place, I actually have an excuse to actually stay the night outside of town instead of spending a pretty penny on a hotel. I’m most excited to spend some time there this summer.”

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“Ten years down the line I’ll be forty one…wow. Let’s not think about that.” Naomi quickly shook her head free of those thoughts with a laugh to follow. “By then my husband and I will be celebrating our anniversary, or maybe even planning our wedding. Who knows? I’ll have two little girls, Charlie and Lana, with a boy on the way. I’ll be moving out of my starter home since the renovations for my new, freshly built house designed by yours truly out near the countryside of Forest Hills will be completed. I’ll be sporting the SUV when dropping my girls off for cheerleading practice. I’ll have accepted a job with the school board as the arts director for the district.” Naomi paused. She honestly thought about the question far too often, and she wondered just who would still be in her life ten years down the line. If the previous decades was telling enough, it was that people came and went even when they were the closest to you. It didn’t matter the timing, it mattered more about the direction their life was taking them in. Naomi brought her larger eyes back toward her lap with a smile stretching across her lips, examining the creamy polish on her short nails before her head was perked back up. “I’ll be happy, and that’s all I could ever want.”

[thatpleasantnightmare]

The Archivist ( Steve Rogers x Reader )

Author : ThatPleasantNightmare Word Count : 1275 words. Characters involved : Reader, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, fictional  characters. Summary : Captain America has to check up on American history after 70 years of beauty sleep.

________________________________________________________________

" I knew it .. you lucky bastard " she murmured, closing the handwritten notebook carefully. She finished taking her notes and stretched on her little work chair. She smiled, putting the notebook back in her plastified protection and in the little black box. She stood up, continued stretching her numb legs, making her way to the corridor.

Working in one of America's biggest museum was a dream coming true. As she finished her long studies in History, she got lucky as her internship supervisor, a.k.a. the museum's archivist for 50 years, decided to, two years before her due date, to retire, leaving her a solid first job. Wandering in the big room underneath the museum, she placed JFK's personal notebook back to its place. How lucky was she to do a job she loved which always allowed her to dig up history dirt? Looking at the clock above her head, she saw that her "work" was over.. two hours ago. Making her way back to her office, she took her stuff before closing it, walking to the elevator. Finally reaching the top floor of the building, she greeted the night guard, but before she could reach the door, a voice stopped her. " - y/n , can I ask you something?”  She heard the museum's director coming slowly to her. “ You just did “ she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “ Sure! “ She announced, louder. “ I know you're not working tommorow but I wanted to ask you a favor. A very important company asked us for a personalised private tour, at night, and I wanted to ask you if you were willing to do it? “ He crossed his fingers in front of his face, silently begging you to say yes. “ Hm, I  mean.. Why didn't you ask Tori or Becca? There are the museum guides after all. I'm just.. the archivist “ she frowned. “ Let's be real, y/n. They just learn their texts, that YOU gave them, they can't even answer questions they're asked “ he grumbled. “ True “ she admitted. “ Look, I'll do anything. They're big people. You love history and nobody could give a better insight of American history. Please, I'm begging you. " She sighed. It's not like she had something to do of her Friday night. Her job had its perks, but also its flaws. Not much social life since graduation. And she liked the director, he was a nice man who didn't hesitate to give her the job even if she just gratuated. She owed him that. The puppy eyes were not helping. " Okay, alright, I'll do it “ she smiled as he fisted the air “ What do you want me to present ? “ she asked. “ Oh, let's say... from the end of World War II, to ... nowadays? “ he answered. “Alright, but.. when you said you were willing to do anything... “ she snickered. “ No raise! And thank you! “ He ran back to his office.

Damn it.

She spend the night working on her presentation. God, it feels like going back to college, she thought. Big men, he said. She wondered who that might be. She wasn't really watching the news and thought that she would see tommorow anyway. Concentrating on the museums rooms, she decided to do a chronological tour on different aspect of the American history ; politics, medecine, arts, emblematic personas and so on. Collecting her notes, she set an alarm for the next day, feeling confident like never.

And her confidence left her when she met the "big men" ; being Tony Stark and a dozen of scary looking bodyguards. " And this is y/n, she will be your guide for tonight “ she heard the director saying to Stark, this one turning to greet her, giving her a warm smile. “ It's nice to meet you y/n. I'd present myself but- “ “ I know who you are “ she cut him, presenting her hand.  He laughed slightly, shaking her hand with his. The director gave her a thumb up and left, saying goodbye to Tony Stark. She told everyone to gather around her and she noticed another man, standing behind the bodyguards. He had a cap on and sunglasses like them, but he wasn't wearing a suit, more casual; vintage even. She shook her head, scratching her throat to gain the attention of everyone and start her tour. And it went well. As scary as the men were, they seemed interested in what she was saying, even asking questions. She grew confident and let her love for history take over. She would glance at the odd man, who stayed silent, only talking to Tony Stark sometimes. When he would glance her way, she would fumble with her notes, feeling nervous, god knows why. She finished her tour with the war heros wall, gently cursing the museum for the lack of military aspect. At the end of the tour, everybody clapped her and Tony made his way towards her. "  My, my... the director told us you were good, but that, that was incredible... History for Dummies 2.0. “  he chuckled. “ Thank you Mr Stark, it really means a lot “ she genuily smiled as the other man make his over them. “ Oh, by the way, I was curious. What leads a brilliant woman like yourself to work in the archives? “ Stark asked. “ I just.; I love it. I mean, you get to interact with antiques and what we have down there, that's... Only 1/10 of the pieces are exposed up here, I let you imagine what's down there. My granpa always said that that's where the real history was “ she smiled. “ Granpa huh? Archivist too “ He questionned. “ No, soldier. He became a teacher after the second world war. “ “ Alright! Last question before we leave, how do you feel about Captain America? " He smirked, and the other man cleared his throat, elbowing him, making Stark smirk even more. Completely oblivious, she crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. " I'll tell you what, Mr Stark. In 1943, Captain America decided to rescue his best friend, Sergeant Barnes from some Hydra base. In doing so, he freed not only his friend and the future Howling Commandos but also a bunch of innocent soldiers. My granpa was one of this soldier. So, if it wasn't for Captain America, I probably wouldn't be here." The smiled grew wider on Tony Stark face and he thanked her again for the tour, mouthing to the troops that it was time to go. As she opened the front counter to collect her bag and keys, she jumped when she heard a voice behind her. Putting her hands over her heart, she looked up at the man in front of her. " I'm sorry, didn't mean to startle you ma'am “ the odd man said, removing his cap from his head. “ It's .. It's okay. And it's miss “ she clarified. “  Alright, miss, I just wanted to thank you for the tour, it was... nice to see how America had changed since... the war “ he mumbled. “ And I wanted to ask you if you could help me with hm.. history and things. " She swore the voice was familiar, but she couldn't remember from where. "  Hm, sure.. I mean I work here, so. If you have any questions you can come and see me.. for history and things. “ God the man was making her nervous. "  Thank you y/n, it was a pleasure really. I'll see you around." He turned around and she could see him taking off the glasses. "  I didn't catch your name “ she shouted so he could hear her. “ It's Steve. Steve Rogers. “ he replied, turning to give her a smile and a nod before leaving. 

Did she just gave an history class to Captain America ?!

________________________________________________________________

Oh god it feels so good to write something at last. Anyway , I hoped you enjoyed it? Do you guys wants a part 2 ? A serie? Can I have some feedbacks ? xx

[networkingdefinition]

Baseball Quotes

Official Website: Baseball Quotes

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• A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings. – Earl Wilson • A baseball game is twice as much fun if you’re seeing it on the company’s time. – William Feather • A baseball manager is a necessary evil. – Sparky Anderson • After Jackie Robinson the most important black in baseball history is Reggie Jackson, I really mean that. – Reggie Jackson • Any baseball is beautiful. No other small package comes as close to the ideal design and utility. It is a perfect object for a man’s hand. Pick it up and it instantly suggests its purpose; it is meant to be thrown a considerable distance – thrown hard and with precision. – Roger Angell • As a kid, before I could play music, I remember baseball being the one thing that could always make me happy. – Garth Brooks

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Baseball', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_baseball').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_baseball img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Baseball fans love numbers. They love to swirl them around their mouths like Bordeaux wine. – Pat Conroy • Baseball gives … a growing boy self-poise and self-reliance. Baseball is a man maker. – Albert Goodwill Spalding • Baseball has been good to me since I quit trying to play it. – Whitey Herzog • Baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh… people will come Ray. People will most definitely come. – Terrence Mann • Baseball has the great advantage over cricket of being sooner ended. – George Bernard Shaw • Baseball is a ballet without music. Drama without words. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is a fun game. It beats working for a living. – Phil Linz • Baseball is a game, yes. It is also a business. – Willie Mays • Baseball is a lot like life. It’s a day-to-day existence, full of ups and downs. You make the most of your opportunities in baseball as you do in life. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is a man maker. – Albert Goodwill Spalding • Baseball is a slow, sluggish game, with frequent and trivial interruptions, offering the spectator many opportunities to reflect at leisure upon the situation on the field: This is what a fan loves most about the game – Edward Abbey • Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can’t get you off. – Bill Veeck • Baseball is drama with an endless run and an ever-changing cast. – Joe Garagiola • Baseball is dull only to dull minds. – Red Barber • Baseball is just a game, as simple as a ball and bat, yet as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is like a poker game. Nobody wants to quit when he’s losing; nobody wants you to quit when you’re ahead. – Jackie Robinson • Baseball is like church. Many attend few understand. – Leo Durocher • Baseball is like driving, it’s the one who gets home safely that counts. – Tommy Lasorda • Baseball is more than a game to me, it’s a religion. – Bill Klem • Baseball is more than a game. It’s like life played out on a field. – Juliana Hatfield • Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical. – Yogi Berra • Baseball is reassuring. It makes me feel as if the world is not going to blow up. – Sharon Olds • Baseball is the greatest game in the world and deserves the best you can give it. – Babe Ruth • Baseball is the most perfect of games, solid, true, pure and precious as diamonds. If only life were so simple. Within the baselines anything can happen. Tides can reverse; oceans can open. That’s why they say, “the game is never over until the last man is out.” Colors can change, lives can alter, anything is possible in this gentle, flawless, loving game. – W. P. Kinsella • Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer. – Ted Williams • Baseball is the only game left for people. To play basketball, you have to be 7 feet 6 inches. To play football, you have to be the same width. – Bill Veeck • Baseball is the only major sport that appears backwards in a mirror. – George Carlin • Baseball is the only sport I know that when you’re on offense, the other team controls the ball. – Ken Harrelson • Baseball is the very symbol, the outward and visible expression of the drive and push and rush and struggle of the raging, tearing, booming nineteenth century. – Mark Twain • Baseball is too much of a sport to be called a business, and too much of a business to be called a sport. – Philip K. Wrigley • Baseball is very big with my people. It figures. It’s the only way we can get to shake a bat at a white man without starting a riot. – Dick Gregory • Baseball is what we were, football is what we have become. – Mary McGrory • Baseball players are smarter than football players. How often do you see a baseball team penalized for too many men on the field? – Jim Bouton • Baseball statistics are like a girl in a bikini. They show a lot, but not everything. – Toby Harrah • Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up. – Bob Lemon • Baseball was, is and always will be to me the best game in the world. – Babe Ruth • Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. Not all holes, or games, are created equal. – George Will • Baseball, to me, is still the national pastime because it is a summer game. I feel that almost all Americans are summer people, that summer is what they think of when they think of their childhood. I think it stirs up an incredible emotion within people. – Steve Busby • Casey (Stengel) knew his baseball. He only made it look like he was fooling around. He knew every move that was ever invented and some that we haven’t even caught on to yet. – Sparky Anderson • Close don’t count in baseball. Close only counts in horseshoes and grenades. – Frank Robinson • Cricket is basically baseball on valium. – Robin Williams • Defense to me is the key to playing baseball. – Willie Mays • Despite reforms in steroid control, serious problems still occur in and out of baseball. – Jim Sensenbrenner • Do what you love to do and give it your very best. Whether it’s business or baseball, or the theater, or any field. If you don’t love what you’re doing and you can’t give it your best, get out of it. Life is too short. You’ll be an old man before you know it. – Al Lopez • Donning a glove for a backyard toss, or watching a ball game, or just reflecting upon our baseball days, we are players again, forever young. – John Thorn • Don’t tell me about the world. Not today. It’s springtime and they’re knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball. – Pete Hamill • Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is. – Bob Feller • Every player should be accorded the privilege of at least one season with the Chicago Cubs. That’s baseball as it should be played – in God’s own sunshine. And that’s really living. – Alvin Dark • Finally, for all of us but a lucky few, the dream of playing big-time baseball is relinquished so we can get on with grown-up things. – John Thorn • How can you not be romantic about baseball? – Billy Beane • I don’t know if he throws a spitball but he sure spits on the ball. – Casey Stengel • I don’t know what you guys say, but at home, life is way different from baseball. – Barry Bonds • I have observed that baseball is not unlike war, and when you get right down to it, we batters are the heavy artillery. – Ty Cobb • I haven’t had the time to say, ‘I’m retiring.’ But baseball says, ‘You’re retired.’ – Rickey Henderson • I just want to play baseball. – David Ortiz • I live in L.A., so I go to basketball games. But I love baseball. – Penny Marshall • I never thought home runs were all that exciting. I still think the triple is the most exciting thing in baseball. To me, a triple is like a guy taking the ball on his 1-yard line and running 99 yards for a touchdown. – Hank Aaron • I see great things in baseball. It’s our game – the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us. – Walt Whitman • I swing big, with everything I’ve got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can. – Babe Ruth • I think about baseball when I wake up in the morning. I think about it all day and I dream about it at night. The only time I don’t think about it is when I’m playing it. – Carl Yastrzemski • I think it puts baseball back on the map as a sport. It’s America’s pastime and just look at everyone coming out to the ballpark. It has been an exciting year. – Mark McGwire • I was born to hit a baseball. I can hit a baseball. – Barry Bonds • I was lucky enough to have the talent to play baseball. That’s how I treated my career. I didn’t think I was anybody special, anybody different. – Carl Yastrzemski • I watch a lot of baseball on the radio. – Gerald R. Ford • I would be lost without baseball. I don’t think I could stand being away from it as long as I was alive. – Roberto Clemente • I would change policy, bring back natural grass and nickel beer. Baseball is the belly-button of our society. Straighten out baseball, and you straighten out the rest of the world. – Bill Lee • I’d be willing to bet you, if I were a betting man, that I have never bet on baseball. – Pete Rose • I’d never even been to Wrigley Field. I never even enjoyed baseball that much, but I loved being there, the crowd was lovely, and they all sang with me! – Bea Arthur • I’d walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball. – Pete Rose • If God wanted football played in the spring, he would not have invented baseball. – Sam Rutigliano • If it wasn’t for baseball, I’d be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery. – Babe Ruth • If it weren’t for baseball, many kids wouldn’t know what a millionaire looked like. – Phyllis Diller • If the Cincinnati Reds were really the first major league baseball team, who did they play? – George Carlin • If you don’t think baseball is a big deal, don’t do it. But if you do, do it right. – Tom Seaver • If you have a bad day in baseball, and start thinking about it, you will have 10 more. – Sammy Sosa • If you put a baseball and other toys in front of a baby, he’ll pick up a baseball in preference to the others. – Tris Speaker • I’ll play out the string and leave baseball without a tear. A man can’t play games his whole life. – Brooks Robinson • I’m not an athlete. I’m a professional baseball player. – John Kruk • In baseball, I was always in control of everything until I let the ball go. – Curt Schilling • In baseball, my theory is to strive for consistency, not to worry about the numbers. If you dwell on statistics you get shortsighted; if you aim for consistency, the numbers will be there at the end. – Tom Seaver • In baseball, there’s always the next day – Ryne Sandberg • In baseball, you don’t know nothing. – Yogi Berra • It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course. – Hank Aaron • It was a terrible day for baseball, it was a worse day for Congress. – Fay Vincent • It’s no coincidence that female interest in the sport of baseball has increased greatly since the ballplayers swapped those wonderful old-time baggy flannel uniforms for leotards. – Mike Royko • I’ve got a wife, four kids, a business, and a baseball career. – Curt Schilling • Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets. – Yogi Berra • Making love is like hitting a baseball. You just gotta relax and concentrate. – Susan Sarandon • More than any other American sport, baseball creates the magnetic, addictive illusion that it can almost be understood. – Thomas Boswell • My dream was to play football for the Oakland Raiders. But my mother thought I would get hurt playing football, so she chose baseball for me. I guess moms do know best. – Rickey Henderson • My mom, she wasn’t like a baseball mother who knew everything about the game. She just wanted me to be happy with what I was doing. – David Ortiz • No baseball pitcher would be worth a darn without a catcher who could handle the hot fastball. – Casey Stengel • No game in the world is as tidy and dramatically neat as baseball, with cause and effect, crime and punishment, motive and result, so cleanly defined. – Paul Gallico • Normal people have an incredible lack of empathy. They have good emotional empathy, but they don’t have much empathy for the autistic kid who is screaming at the baseball game because he can’t stand the sensory overload. Or the autistic kid having a meltdown in the school cafeteria because there’s too much stimulation. – Temple Grandin • Now there’s three things you can do in a baseball game: You can win or you can lose or it can rain. – Casey Stengel • Nowadays, they have more trouble packing hair dryers than baseball equipment. • One of the beautiful things about baseball is that every once in a while you come into a situation where you want to, and where you have to, reach down and prove something. -Nolan Ryan • One of the beautiful things about baseball is the history. – Jim Abbott • One of the walls of my bedroom was a collage of about 15 years of baseball photos. I would cut out the baseball pictures from every issue and I had this huge montage of thousands of pictures. – Curt Schilling • People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring. – Rogers Hornsby • People who write about spring training not being necessary have never tried to throw a baseball. – Sandy Koufax • Playing baseball is not real life. It’s a fantasy world… It’s a dream come true. – Dale Murphy • Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things. – Robert Frost • President Bush left for Canada today to attend a trade summit. Reportedly, the trade summit got off to an awkward start when the president pulled out his baseball cards. – Conan O’Brien • Sadly, this problem of steroid use is not isolated to baseball. – Jim Sensenbrenner • So, baseball is probably more physical of the two mentally. – Bo Jackson • Tell me the truth – do you think I’ve lost my Southern accent? I feel it comes back to me only when I’m shouting at fights or at baseball games. – Cleo Moore • The first books I was interested in were all about baseball. But I can’t think of one single book that changed my life in any way. – Charles Kuralt • The good rising fastball is the best pitch in baseball. – Tom Seaver • The great thing about baseball is that there’s a crisis every day. – Gabe Paul • The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again. – James Earl Jones • The only real game, I think, in the world is baseball. – Babe Ruth • The other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love. – Bryant Gumbel • The triple is the most exciting play in baseball. Home runs win a lot of games, but I never understood why fans are so obsessed with them. – Hank Aaron • The trouble with baseball is that it is not played the year round. – Gaylord Perry • There are only two seasons – winter and Baseball. – Bill Veeck • There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem – once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit. – Al Gallagher • There are three types of baseball players: Those who make it happen, those who watch it happen and those who wonder what happens.- Tommy Lasorda • There is but one game and that game is baseball. – John McGraw • There is no room in baseball for a clown. – Chuck Dressen • These old ballparks are like cathedrals in America. We don’t have big old Gothic cathedrals like they do in Europe. But we got baseball parks. – Jimmy Buffett • Well, there are three things that the average man thinks he can do better than anybody else. Build a fire, run a hotel and manage a baseball team. – Rocky Bridges • When baseball is no longer fun, it’s no longer a game. – Joe DiMaggio • When I began playing the game, baseball was about as gentlemanly as a kick in the crotch. – Ty Cobb • When you’re in a slump, it’s almost as if you look out at the field and it’s one big glove. Vance Law Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up. – Bob Lemon • Whether you want to or not, you do serve as a role model. People will always put more faith in baseball players than anyone else. – Brooks Robinson • Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball. – Rogers Hornsby • Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball, the rules and realities of the game – and do it by watching first some high school or small-town teams. – Jacques Barzun • You can sum up the game of baseball in one word: ‘You never know.’ – Joaquin Andujar • You gotta be a man to play baseball for a living, but you gotta have a lot of little boy in you, too. – Roy Campanella • You owe it to yourself to be the best you can possibly be – in baseball and in life. – Pete Rose • You teach me baseball and I’ll teach you relativity…No we must not. You will learn about relativity faster than I learn baseball. – Albert Einstein [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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[equitiesstocks]

Baseball Quotes

Official Website: Baseball Quotes

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• A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings. – Earl Wilson • A baseball game is twice as much fun if you’re seeing it on the company’s time. – William Feather • A baseball manager is a necessary evil. – Sparky Anderson • After Jackie Robinson the most important black in baseball history is Reggie Jackson, I really mean that. – Reggie Jackson • Any baseball is beautiful. No other small package comes as close to the ideal design and utility. It is a perfect object for a man’s hand. Pick it up and it instantly suggests its purpose; it is meant to be thrown a considerable distance – thrown hard and with precision. – Roger Angell • As a kid, before I could play music, I remember baseball being the one thing that could always make me happy. – Garth Brooks

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Baseball', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_baseball').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_baseball img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Baseball fans love numbers. They love to swirl them around their mouths like Bordeaux wine. – Pat Conroy • Baseball gives … a growing boy self-poise and self-reliance. Baseball is a man maker. – Albert Goodwill Spalding • Baseball has been good to me since I quit trying to play it. – Whitey Herzog • Baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh… people will come Ray. People will most definitely come. – Terrence Mann • Baseball has the great advantage over cricket of being sooner ended. – George Bernard Shaw • Baseball is a ballet without music. Drama without words. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is a fun game. It beats working for a living. – Phil Linz • Baseball is a game, yes. It is also a business. – Willie Mays • Baseball is a lot like life. It’s a day-to-day existence, full of ups and downs. You make the most of your opportunities in baseball as you do in life. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is a man maker. – Albert Goodwill Spalding • Baseball is a slow, sluggish game, with frequent and trivial interruptions, offering the spectator many opportunities to reflect at leisure upon the situation on the field: This is what a fan loves most about the game – Edward Abbey • Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can’t get you off. – Bill Veeck • Baseball is drama with an endless run and an ever-changing cast. – Joe Garagiola • Baseball is dull only to dull minds. – Red Barber • Baseball is just a game, as simple as a ball and bat, yet as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion. – Ernie Harwell • Baseball is like a poker game. Nobody wants to quit when he’s losing; nobody wants you to quit when you’re ahead. – Jackie Robinson • Baseball is like church. Many attend few understand. – Leo Durocher • Baseball is like driving, it’s the one who gets home safely that counts. – Tommy Lasorda • Baseball is more than a game to me, it’s a religion. – Bill Klem • Baseball is more than a game. It’s like life played out on a field. – Juliana Hatfield • Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical. – Yogi Berra • Baseball is reassuring. It makes me feel as if the world is not going to blow up. – Sharon Olds • Baseball is the greatest game in the world and deserves the best you can give it. – Babe Ruth • Baseball is the most perfect of games, solid, true, pure and precious as diamonds. If only life were so simple. Within the baselines anything can happen. Tides can reverse; oceans can open. That’s why they say, “the game is never over until the last man is out.” Colors can change, lives can alter, anything is possible in this gentle, flawless, loving game. – W. P. Kinsella • Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer. – Ted Williams • Baseball is the only game left for people. To play basketball, you have to be 7 feet 6 inches. To play football, you have to be the same width. – Bill Veeck • Baseball is the only major sport that appears backwards in a mirror. – George Carlin • Baseball is the only sport I know that when you’re on offense, the other team controls the ball. – Ken Harrelson • Baseball is the very symbol, the outward and visible expression of the drive and push and rush and struggle of the raging, tearing, booming nineteenth century. – Mark Twain • Baseball is too much of a sport to be called a business, and too much of a business to be called a sport. – Philip K. Wrigley • Baseball is very big with my people. It figures. It’s the only way we can get to shake a bat at a white man without starting a riot. – Dick Gregory • Baseball is what we were, football is what we have become. – Mary McGrory • Baseball players are smarter than football players. How often do you see a baseball team penalized for too many men on the field? – Jim Bouton • Baseball statistics are like a girl in a bikini. They show a lot, but not everything. – Toby Harrah • Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up. – Bob Lemon • Baseball was, is and always will be to me the best game in the world. – Babe Ruth • Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. Not all holes, or games, are created equal. – George Will • Baseball, to me, is still the national pastime because it is a summer game. I feel that almost all Americans are summer people, that summer is what they think of when they think of their childhood. I think it stirs up an incredible emotion within people. – Steve Busby • Casey (Stengel) knew his baseball. He only made it look like he was fooling around. He knew every move that was ever invented and some that we haven’t even caught on to yet. – Sparky Anderson • Close don’t count in baseball. Close only counts in horseshoes and grenades. – Frank Robinson • Cricket is basically baseball on valium. – Robin Williams • Defense to me is the key to playing baseball. – Willie Mays • Despite reforms in steroid control, serious problems still occur in and out of baseball. – Jim Sensenbrenner • Do what you love to do and give it your very best. Whether it’s business or baseball, or the theater, or any field. If you don’t love what you’re doing and you can’t give it your best, get out of it. Life is too short. You’ll be an old man before you know it. – Al Lopez • Donning a glove for a backyard toss, or watching a ball game, or just reflecting upon our baseball days, we are players again, forever young. – John Thorn • Don’t tell me about the world. Not today. It’s springtime and they’re knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball. – Pete Hamill • Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is. – Bob Feller • Every player should be accorded the privilege of at least one season with the Chicago Cubs. That’s baseball as it should be played – in God’s own sunshine. And that’s really living. – Alvin Dark • Finally, for all of us but a lucky few, the dream of playing big-time baseball is relinquished so we can get on with grown-up things. – John Thorn • How can you not be romantic about baseball? – Billy Beane • I don’t know if he throws a spitball but he sure spits on the ball. – Casey Stengel • I don’t know what you guys say, but at home, life is way different from baseball. – Barry Bonds • I have observed that baseball is not unlike war, and when you get right down to it, we batters are the heavy artillery. – Ty Cobb • I haven’t had the time to say, ‘I’m retiring.’ But baseball says, ‘You’re retired.’ – Rickey Henderson • I just want to play baseball. – David Ortiz • I live in L.A., so I go to basketball games. But I love baseball. – Penny Marshall • I never thought home runs were all that exciting. I still think the triple is the most exciting thing in baseball. To me, a triple is like a guy taking the ball on his 1-yard line and running 99 yards for a touchdown. – Hank Aaron • I see great things in baseball. It’s our game – the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us. – Walt Whitman • I swing big, with everything I’ve got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can. – Babe Ruth • I think about baseball when I wake up in the morning. I think about it all day and I dream about it at night. The only time I don’t think about it is when I’m playing it. – Carl Yastrzemski • I think it puts baseball back on the map as a sport. It’s America’s pastime and just look at everyone coming out to the ballpark. It has been an exciting year. – Mark McGwire • I was born to hit a baseball. I can hit a baseball. – Barry Bonds • I was lucky enough to have the talent to play baseball. That’s how I treated my career. I didn’t think I was anybody special, anybody different. – Carl Yastrzemski • I watch a lot of baseball on the radio. – Gerald R. Ford • I would be lost without baseball. I don’t think I could stand being away from it as long as I was alive. – Roberto Clemente • I would change policy, bring back natural grass and nickel beer. Baseball is the belly-button of our society. Straighten out baseball, and you straighten out the rest of the world. – Bill Lee • I’d be willing to bet you, if I were a betting man, that I have never bet on baseball. – Pete Rose • I’d never even been to Wrigley Field. I never even enjoyed baseball that much, but I loved being there, the crowd was lovely, and they all sang with me! – Bea Arthur • I’d walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball. – Pete Rose • If God wanted football played in the spring, he would not have invented baseball. – Sam Rutigliano • If it wasn’t for baseball, I’d be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery. – Babe Ruth • If it weren’t for baseball, many kids wouldn’t know what a millionaire looked like. – Phyllis Diller • If the Cincinnati Reds were really the first major league baseball team, who did they play? – George Carlin • If you don’t think baseball is a big deal, don’t do it. But if you do, do it right. – Tom Seaver • If you have a bad day in baseball, and start thinking about it, you will have 10 more. – Sammy Sosa • If you put a baseball and other toys in front of a baby, he’ll pick up a baseball in preference to the others. – Tris Speaker • I’ll play out the string and leave baseball without a tear. A man can’t play games his whole life. – Brooks Robinson • I’m not an athlete. I’m a professional baseball player. – John Kruk • In baseball, I was always in control of everything until I let the ball go. – Curt Schilling • In baseball, my theory is to strive for consistency, not to worry about the numbers. If you dwell on statistics you get shortsighted; if you aim for consistency, the numbers will be there at the end. – Tom Seaver • In baseball, there’s always the next day – Ryne Sandberg • In baseball, you don’t know nothing. – Yogi Berra • It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course. – Hank Aaron • It was a terrible day for baseball, it was a worse day for Congress. – Fay Vincent • It’s no coincidence that female interest in the sport of baseball has increased greatly since the ballplayers swapped those wonderful old-time baggy flannel uniforms for leotards. – Mike Royko • I’ve got a wife, four kids, a business, and a baseball career. – Curt Schilling • Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets. – Yogi Berra • Making love is like hitting a baseball. You just gotta relax and concentrate. – Susan Sarandon • More than any other American sport, baseball creates the magnetic, addictive illusion that it can almost be understood. – Thomas Boswell • My dream was to play football for the Oakland Raiders. But my mother thought I would get hurt playing football, so she chose baseball for me. I guess moms do know best. – Rickey Henderson • My mom, she wasn’t like a baseball mother who knew everything about the game. She just wanted me to be happy with what I was doing. – David Ortiz • No baseball pitcher would be worth a darn without a catcher who could handle the hot fastball. – Casey Stengel • No game in the world is as tidy and dramatically neat as baseball, with cause and effect, crime and punishment, motive and result, so cleanly defined. – Paul Gallico • Normal people have an incredible lack of empathy. They have good emotional empathy, but they don’t have much empathy for the autistic kid who is screaming at the baseball game because he can’t stand the sensory overload. Or the autistic kid having a meltdown in the school cafeteria because there’s too much stimulation. – Temple Grandin • Now there’s three things you can do in a baseball game: You can win or you can lose or it can rain. – Casey Stengel • Nowadays, they have more trouble packing hair dryers than baseball equipment. • One of the beautiful things about baseball is that every once in a while you come into a situation where you want to, and where you have to, reach down and prove something. -Nolan Ryan • One of the beautiful things about baseball is the history. – Jim Abbott • One of the walls of my bedroom was a collage of about 15 years of baseball photos. I would cut out the baseball pictures from every issue and I had this huge montage of thousands of pictures. – Curt Schilling • People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring. – Rogers Hornsby • People who write about spring training not being necessary have never tried to throw a baseball. – Sandy Koufax • Playing baseball is not real life. It’s a fantasy world… It’s a dream come true. – Dale Murphy • Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things. – Robert Frost • President Bush left for Canada today to attend a trade summit. Reportedly, the trade summit got off to an awkward start when the president pulled out his baseball cards. – Conan O’Brien • Sadly, this problem of steroid use is not isolated to baseball. – Jim Sensenbrenner • So, baseball is probably more physical of the two mentally. – Bo Jackson • Tell me the truth – do you think I’ve lost my Southern accent? I feel it comes back to me only when I’m shouting at fights or at baseball games. – Cleo Moore • The first books I was interested in were all about baseball. But I can’t think of one single book that changed my life in any way. – Charles Kuralt • The good rising fastball is the best pitch in baseball. – Tom Seaver • The great thing about baseball is that there’s a crisis every day. – Gabe Paul • The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again. – James Earl Jones • The only real game, I think, in the world is baseball. – Babe Ruth • The other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love. – Bryant Gumbel • The triple is the most exciting play in baseball. Home runs win a lot of games, but I never understood why fans are so obsessed with them. – Hank Aaron • The trouble with baseball is that it is not played the year round. – Gaylord Perry • There are only two seasons – winter and Baseball. – Bill Veeck • There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem – once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit. – Al Gallagher • There are three types of baseball players: Those who make it happen, those who watch it happen and those who wonder what happens.- Tommy Lasorda • There is but one game and that game is baseball. – John McGraw • There is no room in baseball for a clown. – Chuck Dressen • These old ballparks are like cathedrals in America. We don’t have big old Gothic cathedrals like they do in Europe. But we got baseball parks. – Jimmy Buffett • Well, there are three things that the average man thinks he can do better than anybody else. Build a fire, run a hotel and manage a baseball team. – Rocky Bridges • When baseball is no longer fun, it’s no longer a game. – Joe DiMaggio • When I began playing the game, baseball was about as gentlemanly as a kick in the crotch. – Ty Cobb • When you’re in a slump, it’s almost as if you look out at the field and it’s one big glove. Vance Law Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up. – Bob Lemon • Whether you want to or not, you do serve as a role model. People will always put more faith in baseball players than anyone else. – Brooks Robinson • Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball. – Rogers Hornsby • Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball, the rules and realities of the game – and do it by watching first some high school or small-town teams. – Jacques Barzun • You can sum up the game of baseball in one word: ‘You never know.’ – Joaquin Andujar • You gotta be a man to play baseball for a living, but you gotta have a lot of little boy in you, too. – Roy Campanella • You owe it to yourself to be the best you can possibly be – in baseball and in life. – Pete Rose • You teach me baseball and I’ll teach you relativity…No we must not. You will learn about relativity faster than I learn baseball. – Albert Einstein [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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