#look I know I made fun of her about the Brooklyn dodgers but she’s right here and they’re making fun of her anyway and kinda condescendingly

[frenchtwistresistance]

Fannie: The New York Giants!

Bill Daily and Gene, kind of being dicks: They moved! It’s the San Francisco Giants.

Fannie: Well, they didn’t ask me!

[cyansadness]

New Romantics

Chapter 2: First Day of School

First day back at Rydell and everything is different and some things never do change.

cw for implied cheating

“No Olivia. The last thing I need is McGee on my ass for the dress code of all things.” Ana said into the receiver. The phone was held in between Ana’s ear and neck as she put on her mascara. 

“Come on Ana, live a little.” Olivia pleaded on the other side of the line. “I did live a little last year and do you know where that got me? Two weeks suspension and three months of straight detention every single day.” Ana yelled as she topped off her lipstick. 

“You’re no fun.” Ana could hear the pout in Olivia’s voice that she was choosing to ignore. “I know, I know. Tell Gil I’m driving straight to school so I’ll meet all you there.” Ana said, finally standing up from her vanity. “Fine, see you soon. Bye.” Olivia said before hanging up the phone. 

With a roll of her eyes, Ana went to her closet. She looked at the black pencil skirt that Olivia had seen last week and was trying to convince Ana to wear for the first day. Shaking her head, Ana reached for a white shirt that had a slight v neckline and a dark blue skirt that barely grazed the bottom of her knees. That’s a good enough rebellion. 

Picking the white heels that were sprawled on the floor where they had been kicked off the night before, Ana slipped them on before standing in front of her full length mirror. The gold cross sat in between the v neck as Ana tried not to pick herself apart before school. 

Ana could count on one hand how many girls in Rydell had pierced ears but the pearls in her ears set her apart. While most girls had their hair end right above their shoulders, Ana’s hair ended about mid back. She knew some girls with hair that long but it was always in ponytails and it was always up. 

A quick glance at her clock had Ana scooping up her books and sunglasses and running downstairs. Thomas and Bianca Davis were in the kitchen, Thomas drinking coffee while reading the paper and Bianca in the kitchen, hovering over the stove. Ana ran down her stairs, her heels clicking against the wood. “Anastasia Davis.” Her father called out as she reached the bottom. 

Ana rolled her eyes as she walked towards the kitchen, her sunglasses already perched on the top of her head. “I do hope this year, you will try to salvage the little good reputation you have.” Her father advised albeit his tone was sharp as if he was warning her. 

“No promises Dad.” Ana shrugged, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and walking out of the kitchen. “Sweet pea.” Bianca called out to her daughter, making Ana backtrack into the kitchen. “Have a good first day.” Bianca told her, handing Ana a brown lunch bag. 

“Thanks Mom. Love you.” Ana called out the last part as she walked out of the kitchen and to the front door. Ana walked out and unlocked her car. She tossed her books into the passenger's seat and pushed her sunglasses down.

She pulled out of her driveway and started her drive to Rydell High. She parked in the far end of the lot and walked towards where the T-Birds and Olivia were. Olivia was donning a very oversized jacket as she looked over Ana’s outfit. Ana gave her raised eyebrow but Olivia just shook her head and smirked.

As they walked towards the main building, Ana slipped on Nico’s jacket and was filled in on the gossip that transpired over the last eight hours. The group spotted Jane in Buddy’s jacket amongst the student body. 

“That goody two-shoes Frigidaire?” Olivia asked unconvinced. “Dream on boys.” Olivia smirked. “It’s true. I heard she made it with half the Brooklyn Dodgers before she left New York.” Gil supplied. 

“They had an awful season that year.” Potato said, the group laughing. “And like most gossip at the school, it’s probably not true.” Ana glared at the boys, hitting Potato in the back of the head with her book. 

Cynthia joined the group, looking rather sour. “Oh, look. It’s the belle of the ball!” Richie teased. “Change your face, Richie, or I’ll rearrange it.” Cynthia threatened, offending Richie and making the girls laugh. 

“Let her do it chato. Can’t get uglier than what you’ve got now.” Olivia said, a smirk on her face. Ana and Richie both looked shocked and impressed. “Qué te pasa calabaza? Estas de buenas.” Richie told his sister, happy to see her mood different than last night while Ana looked skeptical. 

“Decir que este año no me va importar lo que digan de mí.” Olivia told the pair proudly. “Eso, es justo lo que yo estaba intentando..”  Richie cut himself off when Olivia pulled off her jacket to reveal her tight shirt and even tighter skirt. Ana felt her mouth go slightly dry but she ignored that. 

Richie looked shocked and scandalized as he covered Olivia with his jacket. “Hey, hey, hey, hey. No puedes entrar así. Qué van a decir?” Richie asked his twin. “McGee te va a matar, tú sabes eso, no?” Ana asked her best friend while Richie nodded alongside her in agreement. 

“Vamos a ver.” Olivia smirked at the two as she turned around and threw the jacket over her shoulder. Olivia strutted down the main path, reveling in the stares and catcalls. The rest of the T-Birds, with the exception of Nico, all stared at Olivia as if in a trance. 

“Hey.” Richie said, snapping them out of their trance. The group all looked away. Ana let her gaze linger for a second before turning around. “Let the girl live a little, Richie. Don’t be such a wet mop.” Ana remarked, hitting Richie in the arm. “She’ll be fine.” Ana tried to reassure. 

“Whatever, let’s just go.” Richie brushed her off as the gang set off into the building. The T-Birds, Cynthia, and Ana all entered, smiling and laughing. “We’re back baby.” Potato laughed. The boys and Cynthia began annoying the student body as Ana enjoyed how people either glared at her or fled from her eye line. 

The group passed Jane on a ladder, hanging up the banner for the pep rally. “Ooh, goody-goody! The pep rally!” Potato joked as Cynthia, Shy Guy, and himself mocked the cheerleaders. “First year our dear Ana isn’t a cheerleader.” Cynthia laughed as Ana rolled her eyes. 

Jane smiled at them, thinking that they were genuinely excited about the affair. Ana felt the guilt settle in her stomach. The poor girl has no idea what people are saying about her. Gil and Richie passed under Jane, looking up her skirt. Jane noticed and looked offended. 

“I beg your pardon.” Jane asked, her tone scandalized. “I’m sorry honey. It's just, my friends here have never been to New York. And we heard under your skirt is New York City’s most visited tourist attraction.” Gil commented as he threw his arms around Potato and Richie.

Gil’s comment made the people around them laugh. Ana turned around to glare at the group behind her. They all quieted as they looked away. “That’s what I thought.” Ana muttered as she handed her binder to Nico and grabbed her hard-covered book. 

She walked to Gil, smacking him on the back of the head. “Shut your trap Gil.” Ana warned. “Come on, morons!” Richie corralled the group, the others walking in front while he and Ana stayed back. The pair didn’t notice Jane come down from the latter and start to follow them

“Excuse me. What else are people saying about me?” Jane asked, following Ana and Richie. “Hey, my name’s Bennett and I’m not in it.” Richie said, not wanting to get involved. 

Jane grabbed Richie and turned him around. “Please.” Jane pleaded with the two. Those eyes, full of confusion and desperation for answers, Ana couldn’t bear it. “Look, they’re saying you had to flee the New York mafia to seek treatment for your nymphomania. But it didn’t work. Now, you’ve given Buddy Aldridge venereal disease.” Richie explained. 

Ana cringed at every word that left Richie’s mouth. She wasn’t the bestest of  friends with Jane but nobody deserves this.

~flashback to january 1954~

“Did you hear about the new girl who just transferred, she’s from New York.” Susan said, standing next to Ana as she grabbed her books from her locker. “Yeah, I heard she’s crazy smart, total nerd.” Rosemary laughed, making Ana roll her eyes.

“I think her name is Janis or something.” Dot tried to remember. “Her name is Jane, she’s in my science class.” Ana supplied. “Oh, I saw her walking out of that class. She dresses like a nun.” Susan taunted, laughing. 

Ana didn’t laugh and rolled her eyes again before closing her locker door shut. “Come on Annie, laugh.” Susan said, poking Ana in the shoulder. “It’s not funny Susan. Lay off her.” Ana scolded. “It’s hard enough being the new girl, she doesn’t need you hassling her.” 

“You are no fun.” Rosemary scoffed. “Speak of the devil.” Peg said, pointing to something down the hall. The group turned to see Jane Facciano, arms full of books as she looked at all the locker numbers.

“Watch this.” Susan nudged Ana as she stuck her leg out when Jane walked past the Socs. Jane fell, her glasses sliding off onto the floor along with all her books. The Socs and the other students in the hallway erupted into cruel laughter.

Jane’s face flushed red with embarrassment as she reached blindly for her glasses. Ana’s pity was clear in her eyes. “Welcome to Rydell Brainy Janey.” Susan said, cruel smirk and all. Ana glared at her friend as she walked away with the other girls, still laughing.

Ana kneeled down and grabbed the black framed glasses. “Here ya go.” Ana held out the glasses for Jane. Jane gave the blurry figure in front of her a small smile, putting on her glasses.

Her gaze became more wary as she spotted the Rydell letterman jacket. Ana could spot the distrust in her eyes. “Let me help you.” Ana said as she started to pick up some of Jane’s books.

“Thanks.” Jane’s voice was small, timid, fearful of this soc who seemed nice. Ana could tell. “Ignore Susan, she’s had a cactus where her heart should be since junior high.” Ana joked as the pair stood up. 

Jane let out a small laugh. “I’m Ana. We’re in the same science class.” Ana smiled as she handed Jane’s books back to her. “Nice to meet you.” Jane relaxed a little. “Annie.” Ana’s boyfriend Wally called out to her, signaling to her to come over. 

“That’s my cue, I gotta go but I’ll see you around Jane.” Ana lightly touched Jane’s wrist, giving her a smile before walking away to meet up with the rest of the Socs. 

~end of flashback to january 1954~

“What?” Jane said, horror stricken on her face. “You’re knocked up too.” Gil started. “Twins.” Potato laughed. “Different fathers.” Shy Guy added. “Congratulations.” Cynthia finished. They erupted into laughter as Jane’s face dropped. 

Ana turned around to glare at them and the gang quickly turned around. Behind Jane, Susan appeared. “Richie.” She called out, waving. Richie’s face hardened as he saw Susan. 

“Catch you later.” Richie said to Jane, using one hand to hide his face with his collar and the other one to grab Ana’s wrist to drag her with him, the pair, not seeing Jane trying to get more information. “This is why you don’t make out with Susan St. Clair at the drive-in.” Ana muttered under her breath.

Ana grabbed her wrist away from Richie and hit him with her book. “You could’ve been nicer about that.” Ana said. “I told her what she wanted to know.” Richie said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“The poor girl’s life is getting ruined and you and the merry band of idiots are making it worse.” Ana told him, jabbing her finger into his chest before turning towards the others. 

She started hitting all of them with her books. “You morons should be lucky it’s just my book hitting you.” Ana said after nailing all of them in the head. “I gotta get to class.” Ana rolled her eyes and looked at Nico who was still holding her binder. 

“Ready?” She asked him, handing him her book. “Always.” Nico smiled, grabbing the book and reaching for her hand. The gang made kissy noises and faces at the two as they walked away. 

~time skip~

The morning was spent in Ana’s new honors classes and hearing every single rumor about Jane Facciano reach her ears at some point. Ana walked up the bleachers to where the T-Birds and Cynthia were sitting. Ana ignored the glares she was getting from her old squad as she always did. Nico saw her first and smiled. 

Ana returned the smile as she kissed him on the cheek before sitting down. The group started talking as they waited for Richie. Ana saw him first as Susan was trying to flag him down. 

They started talking but Ana couldn’t pick most of it up. The group started watching Susan and Richie’s interaction. “Because kissing you is like going through a carwash without a car.” Richie said, raising his voice and laughing .

The T-Birds and Cynthia bursted out laughing, Ana joining them after a second of silence. Susan shrieked and stomped her foot. “Oh Richie Valdovinos, you’re despicable.” Susan said, her voice so high-pitched that it made Ana wince.

Susan ran back to the other Socs, whining. “Oh no.” Gil said as the group stood up and started to walk down to meet with Richie and Olivia. “And now he won’t leave me alone, he’s stalking me.” Susan said as the T-Birds and the girls walked towards them.

“She’s flipped, she’s been tracking me like a bloodhound all day.” Richie said. “As if I would chase after a boy like him.” Susan sneered. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Olivia questioned.

“It means she doesn’t want to be bothered by any lowlife, dirty, greasers.” Neil spit out like poison as he pushed his way forward. Ana felt her blood run cold as she heard the slur as did the others. “Or their whore sisters and psycho girlfriends.” Neil nodded towards Olivia and Ana. 

Any promises Ana made about not making waves went out the window as Ana lunged towards Neil, her hands aiming for his neck but Nico held her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. Richie got body slammed when he went to punch Neil while Shy Guy and Potato held back Olivia and Gil. 

“You said no more fighting.” Nico whispered in her ear when Ana wouldn’t stop struggling. “Screw that, let me hit him.” Ana whispered back as she reached for those stupid letterman jackets that she once wore. 

Ana kept struggling until she felt slender fingers wrap around her bicep. Olivia was trying to help hold both Richie and Ana back from fighting. Ana let herself relax as Olivia gave her a pleading look, reminding her of the promise she made during the summer.

~flashback to july 1954~

“You can’t go around fighting anybody who pisses you off this year.” Olivia told Ana who nearly choked on the mescal she was drinking. “You can’t ask me that. Everyone pisses me off.” Ana laughed as she handed the bottle back to Olivia. 

They were sitting on Olivia’s floor, facing each other in their pajamas as they passed a bottle of mescal between the two. “Then no fighting.” Olivia suggested which made Ana laugh. Olivia began shushing her so her mom wouldn’t come up and find the two tipsy girls.

“Liv,” Ana started before she was cut off. “Ana, you fight again and McGee will send you out on your ass. You can’t leave me alone with those people.” Olivia pleaded, one of her hands landing on Ana’s bare thigh that was uncovered by her pajama shorts. 

Ana felt goosebumps arise all over her body but the sober-ish part of her brain blamed it on the alcohol. “You are the one girl to treat me like a normal person at that school after everything. Don’t do something that gets you kicked out, please.” Olivia pleaded with Ana, her brown eyes boring into Ana’s soul. 

Ana, with a dramatic sigh, lifted her pinky up, Olivia eagerly going to interlock hers. “I promise I won’t get kicked out of school for fighting.” Ana stated before quickly adding on more. “But if they started it, then it’s not my fault.” Which made Olivia laugh. 

The hands fell to the floor, their pinkies still interlocked as the pair looked at each other. Electricity buzzed between both girls as Olivia interlocked their hands. The hand on Ana’s thigh squeezed lightly, making her breath hitch slightly. 

Some other things happened but it doesn’t really count if you’re drunk right.

~end of flashback to july 1954~

Ana was brought out of the old memory by Jane Facciano running in and stopping the fight. “Stop, wait!” Jane screamed as she ran in between both groups. “Richie–Richie was telling the truth, I saw it. I was under the bleachers.” Jane immediately came to Richie’s defense.

“Well, that figures.” Susan taunted. The socs snickered as Ana rolled her eyes at Susan’s immature taunts and Buddy’s lack of a spine to protect his own girlfriend from the rumors. 

“Richie rejected Susan for a second date, not the other way around.” Jane kept going as Richie puffed his jacket. “He was a little rude about it.” Jane quickly tacked on. “Richie Valdovinos has never even had a second date.” Cynthia said.

“Yea, not with a girl like her.” Olivia glared at Susan which was returned by the blonde. “Susan, someone could get hurt.” Jane told her, trying to appeal to a humanity that Ana wasn’t even sure existed anymore. 

Susan looked around at the damage her lie caused. As she turned towards Buddy, he gave a look to just tell the truth. “I may have exaggerated a little.” Susan said curtly, lacking any remorse or regret.

“A little?” Ana commented, sending her own glare towards Susan. “Okay, that’s it. Everybody, move on. Come on.” Buddy went to break up the tension between the two groups. 

“Fine, just remember your place here at Rydell, turkeys.” Neil taunted, him and the others making gobbling noises. Richie tried to lunge but Shy Guy just pushed him back towards the bleachers, the others following. 

“Hope the jacket was worth it Davis.” Neil yelled out towards Ana who was under Nico’s arm. She gritted her teeth and just kept walking. She turned towards Olivia who stopped and was looking at Jane with a glint in her eye. 

Home ec. should be fun. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

bisexual ana supremacy

in a more kind world, it's them

as always thank you to @cherrybb-ily who knows this plot like the back of her hand.

also, yes, these flashbacks will be frequent

[365days365movies]

April 9, 2021: Some Like it Hot (1959) (Recap: Part One)

If there was ever a movie more hyped than this one...

Ever heard of the American Film Institute? Well, according to them in 2000 (recent, I know), this is the funniest comedy...period. At the time, anyway. That beats Tootsie (getting there), Dr. Strangelove (love it), Annie Hall (also loved it), Duck Soup (classic), Blazing Saddles (classic, topical, and fantastic), M*A*S*H (maybe later this year), It Happened One Night (maybe next year), The Graduate (later this WEEK), and...THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN Airplane! IS NUMBER 10? You CANNOT be seri...yeah, OK, you know where I’m going.

Anyway. Yeah, so, maybe AFI has Oscar syndrome, because that’s a little bullshit. So, uh...how about the BBC? In 2017, they asked 253 film critics ACROSS THE GLOBE what the best comedy of all time was, and number ONE was Some Like it Hot. Other than beating Airplane! again, it also beat Groundhog Day, Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, The Big Lebowski, and His Girl Friday, and...well, every comedy you can think of. This movie CANNOT be that funny.

...Can it?

But there’s more to this film than that. Apparently, it was made without the approval of the MPPDA, which means that it wasn’t Hays Code adherent! Damn! In fact, this film was partially responsible for its collapse about 6 years later! But what is the Hays Code? Well, briefly covered, it was a set of standards laid out by Will Hays and his Motion Picture Produces and Distributors of America, or the MPPDA. It was enforced in the mid 1930s, and stood firmly in place until 1968, when it basically disappeared.

So, what are these standards? Well, there are a lot, but in a nutshell:

No cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain in any way.

No nudity, real or suggested. And sex is kind of OK, if consensual and between a man and a woman ONLY. But, they can’t be in bed together, and they can only kiss one time, IF one of them isn’t a villain.

No weddings, no wedding nights, and barely any reference to marriage.

No prostitution, or what was called “white slavery”. Yes. Really.

Oh, also, no weird race-mixing stuff. What’s a “civil rights”?

Buuuuuuut...don’t insult any races either. Of course, considering the time period, “insult” or “offense” is probably subjective, so...fuck that, I guess.

PRIESTS ARE HOLY AND CANNOT BE MOCKED

No guns, fire, American flags, murder, smuggling, drugs, hanging, electrocution, or...law enforcement?

No childbirth, seen or inferred, and no naked kids. I mean...that’s common sense, to be completely fair.

NO RACE-MIXI-oh. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Well, OK, I’ll pare it down a little. They can’t have sex, but I guess...looking at each other is OK? Yeah, yeah, we’ll go with that. I’m progressive!

That about covers it. And this movie wasn’t adherent to it? Oh...well, I am excited! Let’s jump right in! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The whole thing starts with a bang; literally. It's Chicago in 1929, smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era, and a group of gangsters are smuggling some alcohol inside of a coffin, while riding in a hearse. The cops aren't fooled, ad a shootout takes place between the gangsters and the cops, but they eventually drop off as the group takes the coffin into a funeral home. At the funeral home, a man named “Toothpick” Charlie (George E. Stone) meets with Mulligan (Pat O’Brien) a detective who’s got Charlie as his informant. With his help, he makes his way into the funeral home, actually a speakeasy in disguise.

Said speakeasy is run by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), and within the speakeasy is a massive party, which the partygoers call a funeral. Spats arrives there shortly afterwards, and Mulligan watches all the while. Also at this party is a group of dancers accompanied by a band, which contains two partners, ladies’ man and sax player Joe (Tony Curtis) and anxious double bassist Jerry (Jack Lemmon).

The two talk about what they’re going to do with their upcoming paycheck, with Joe planning on using it for gambling on dog races. Jerry is understandably worried about this, as they owe rent, but Joe rattles off other things that he might was well worry about.

Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn! Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.

Fun fact, though: the stock market’s about to crash in a year, Pickford and Fairbanks divorce in 1936, and the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957, famously. Lake Michigan has not overflowed...YET. It’s actually at record high water levels, and could cause flooding around it in the next few years. So, although those middle three were DEFINITELY part of the joke...that last one wasn’t at the time. Of course, it’s actually there as a line to set Jerry up with a way to tell him that the streets are “about to flood”, as he spots Mulligan and makes him. He tells Joe, and they both quietly pack up their instruments and leave, BEFORE the ruckus is about to begin.

And begin it does, and the cops raid the place almost immediately afterwards. As the party’s broken up and people are loaded into the paddywagon (Spats included), Joe and Jerry take their chance to escape behind the cops’ backs. However, this also means that the two musicians aren’t getting paid after all. Joe’s still set on betting money on the dog the next day, and get the money for the bet by selling their coats. However, while they do sell their coats, they instead end up looking for jobs at a local music agency, run by Sig Poliakoff (Billy Gray). 

The agency is recruited by band owner Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her nebbish band manager Bienstock (Dave Barry), as they need a bass and a sax player to replace two of their own, in their band in Florida. On hearing this from Poliakoff’s secretary Nellie (Barbara Drew), the two barge into the office. However, much to their dismay, the only ones they’re looking for are women. While Jerry tries to weasel their way in, it doesn’t quite work, and they instead take a job up north for a Valentine’s Day dance. The two go to a garage to borrow a car from Nellie in order to get to the job. There, playing cards, is Toothpick Charlie with a group of men. But then...somebody else arrives.

Spats and his men arrive at the garage, and tell all of the men to stand with their hands on the wall. Joe and Jerry, however, manage to hide in the garage. And if you know anything about Valentine’s Day during Prohibition Era Chicago...then you know exactly what’s about to happen to Toothpick and the guys.

After the massacre (based upon the real St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Jerry makes a noise and alerts the gang to their presence. This is a problem, because Spats isn’t keen on the idea of witnesses, and immediately orders the musicians killed.With a distraction caused by the still-alive-but-dying Charlie, the two manage to escape Spats’ wrath. Now needing a fast way out of town, Joe figures out a plan. See, that job, the one from Sweet Sue, is in Florida, which is far enough away that they should be able to escape. But, uh...the band is only looking for women. And so...

This is the second most famous thing about the film. Meet Josephine and Daphne, the female aliases of Joe and Jerry respectively. As Jerry realizes the difficulties of the female wardrobe (namely skirts and heels), the two walk up to the band of women, known as “Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.” But they aren’t the only arrivals, and the other is the MOST famous thing about this movie...

This is Sugar “Kane” Kowalczyk, the lead singer, ukelele player, and...OK, look, it’s Marilyn Monroe, and I think I need to acknowledge this now. Marilyn Monroe is an underrated talent today, but she had a hell of a lot of potential as an actress and as an individual. She had a lot of troubles, and her early death by suicide is an absolute tragedy, no matter how you slice it. She’s a talented actress and singer, and she deserves recognition for that.

SHE IS ALSO INSANELY HOT I’M SORRY I’M WEAK

Look...it’s Marilyn fucking Monroe, OK? I know, I’m a straight cissexual man, but I wanted to make a point to acknowledge the fact that Marilyn Monroe is a talent far outside of her beauty and physicality. She (and all women) deserve that much, and deserve not to be objectified by the male gaze. I genuinely agree with this, and I do understand that concept. I’ll never personally understand the female experience, but it’s my responsibility and duty as an individual to understand experiences foreign to my own, including this one.

But DEAR LORD, her physicality is not easy to ignore, now and then! I mean COME ON! The woman’s considered a standard of classic beauty to this day by many (not by all, and not by herself), and it’s unfortunately her most famous feature to nearly everybody. But, of course, Monroe got a lot of grief for her looks as well (which is bullshit), and the stress of her life sadly led to her terrible suicide. But that doesn’t mean that her beauty inside and out shouldn’t be appreciated for what it is: beauty.

ALSO SHE IS DROP DEAD GORGEOUS I’M WEAK I KNOW

See, the train agrees with me! Oh...OH RIGHT, THE MOVIE! OK, where was I. Well, Joe and Jerry agree with me about Sugar Kane, but it is the 1950′s when the film is made, so of course they do. They watch her get on, and they follow suit, meeting the women of the band, and Sugar Kane. Sugar, see, has a teensy bit of an alcohol problem. That’s not necessarily to say she’s an alcoholic, but she is admonished for it by Sweet Sue and Bienstock, also being a repeat offender of drinking during working hours. That (and men) is something that Sweet Sue doesn’t tolerate.

She’s almost in trouble that night, when her flask falls from her stocking during a performance. However, Jerry covers for her, much to her appreciation. As they settle in for the night, all of the girls (including Joe and Jerry) sleep in the same cabin, much to the, uh, frustration of Jerry, despite Josephine’s urgings to keep it together. As Jerry continually reminds himself that he’s posing as a girl, he’s surprised that night with the appearance of Sugar, who comes to thank her for her help that night. Sugar tells “Daphne” that she owes her one, and also climbs into the cot with him to hide from Sweet Sue. Jerry...that poor mother fucker.

Well, Jerry tries to ease the tension by offering some of Joe’s whisky. But more of the girls overhear this, and eventually, a massive party erupts, with all the girls mixing drinks and sharing the single space of Jerry’s bed. Joe wakes up from all of this, and tries to help end the party, only for Sugar to climb out of it, and ask Joe for help with a block of ice for the drinks.

It’s here that she reveals that she used to work with men’s bands, but joined this band to get away from men. This is especially to get away from her weakness: tenor sax players. This intrigues Joe, the tenor sax player. However, she’s essentially sworn off of tenor sax players because of multiple bad relationships, and is instead hoping to find a millionaire in Florida, preferably one with a yacht. Meanwhile, Jerry’s bed is getting a little too full, and the girls are getting a little TOO familiar. They start to tickle him, and to prevent his cover being blown, Jerry pulls the train’s emergency brake. All of the girls scatter as the train stops, and they manage to get away with the party as Sweet Sue and Bienstock wake up only then.

The train gets to Florida, and the girls make their way into a hotel. As they check in, Jerry (as Daphne) is spotted by Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a millionaire, and a man with eclectic tastes in women. And those tastes apparently include Daphne, as he unsubtly (and unwantedly) hits on her. And Jerry’s having none of it. After Osgood pinches him in the elevator, he gets off after slapping him. Unfortunately, that makes Osgood only want Daphne THAT MUCH MORE. This man...this man may just be the legendary alpha simp of which the stories tell.

Meanwhile, Joe manages to get ahold of Beinstock’s luggage and glasses. He steals his clothes (after fending off an overeager bellboy), and uses them to dress as a millionaire. Why? Why, to seduce Sugar, of course!

This is right at the halfway point, so we’ll pick this up in Part Two! See you there!

[taejeonie]

taehee in america!!

— i can’t find a gif from one of their interviews :// also the events aren’t in sequence,,whatever i remember watching will appear here so if i missed something, u guys can tell me!!

okay so taehee’s like

different

like most of the tweets were ‘american air changed taehee’

like in korea she’s chill, semi-shy but still chaotic

but in america it’s that but x82848, minus the shy part it’s like gone now

and she’s more interactive with czennies so that’s probably why (*^_^*)

like in one of their interviews someone asked, “okay, so i have a question from tumblr...do you know tumblr”

“yes i know tumblr ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)”

and she loved doing rpd with them it’s so cute

she kept hyping them up and dancing in the sidelines

but when cherry bomb comes on

she was like: this is my song. must. dance.

and she was center for the nananananana part so it was p e r f e c t

when they did flinch she was paired with doyoung

james was trying to talk to them but they were mODELLING

let them do their work james

“oh i see how it is now”

her eyes flinched a bit when the fruit came out but they didn’t notice....hopefully

anyways youngtae won

speaking of interviews

awkward faces. disgusted faces. bored faces. fake smile faces.

‘oh shit did they just say that?’ faces.

“so how’s it like being the only girl in the group?”

in her head she’s like: stfu i didn’t go to america for this ಠ╭╮ಠ

but outside she’s like: hahahaha looks like i gotta answer this ∩^ω^∩ gotta pay rent u know?

the genius interview oh god markhee was a MESS

they kept pinching each other when they had to explain the s t e a m y parts of the song so johnny did it for them

in the end they just gave up on explaining so she said “you don’t have to take the lyrics word by word, line by line. you can take it however you want and the feelings aren’t just limited to a significant other. it’s just love between two people and that could be a friend, a partner-“

inside they’re like “good job, taehee. good job,” until she says

“-your mom.”

and when they were teaching cherry bomb she couldn’t keep her mouth shut

“okay so you spread your legs like this” - johnny

“that’s when you feel the air coming in” - mark

and when doyoung thought it couldn’t get any worse

“oh, really? i don’t” - taehee

and yuta, taeyong, johnny, and mark just try to hold their laughter

doyoung @ the rest: just smile and wave boys, smile and wave

also stayzens got crumbs of (han) jisung and taehee’s friendship when they were guessing the dance based on the silhouette

when the choreo for ‘get cool’ showed she immediately answered

“oH OH GET COOL STRAY KIDS”

she scared everyone with her excitement but that’s okay bc they got a point

“that was fast,” the host told her

*proudly* “yeah i’m friends with one of them”

taehee stans were served

she wore dresses to award shows bUT THERE WAS A TIME SHE WORE A SUIT

everyone died

she looked amazing hot spectacular show stopping

#miamiwithtaehee

“hey guys! welcome back to my channel ( ◠‿◠ ) so today we would be going toOoOoOo miAMIIIII *fake sound effects* um so like we’re going to buy some stuff for the beach coz like it’s really hot hahahaha but that’s because i’m here *slowly pulls shades down*”

“why do you talk like that”

“just let me be, mark. let me be.”

but she went back to taehee mode so it’s aight

“taeyong oppa broke his slippers and the sand’s really hot so i don’t know how he survives.”

“noona~”

“hAECHAN I DONT WANNA GET WEEEET”

she gets caught anyways

and hyuck drags her to the deep deep deep part

but she knows how to swim :>>

#athletic

she came back to shore to dry off,,,so she watched the surfers with jungwoo while the others are having fun

“waahh, that’s so cool. did you see that?”

“my dad taught me how to surf back in australia”

“really? :OO”

“yeah but that was when i was still younger. i think i forgot now.”

“woah” jungwoo’s amazed by this girl

OH MY GOD WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT 19 EMOTIONS

so when she was asked to do flirty

she got shy, that was the shyest moment of her life but you gotta do what you gotta do

*starts twirling a piece of hair on her finger* “hey,,,,” *winks*

then she starts playing with her hair more aggressively until she had to stop and fix her hair bc the manager told her to

producer: is that how you flirt?

taehee: i don’t flirt. *confidently* people flirt with me ;))).

johnny, off-screen: excuses! this is why we don’t let her out

her and johnny just kept giving commentary on poor mark it’s hilarious

*mark raises his eyebrow*

“you’re so flirty”

“damn, that eyebrow tho. i’m swayed.”

taehee kept eating ice cream

like everytime the camera pans to her she’s just eating ice cream

when they watched alicia key performing ‘if i ain’t got you’

she was star struck

markhee: Aw sHIT

when she rapped “knet knet talk talk” she blew up the whole bird app

she was feeling herself everytime they performed it was sexc

american air really is different

concerts omg don’t get me started

johnny started shaking his booty as a joke but then there’s taehee on the side of the stage lowkey twerking

you know how bp were feeling themselves during their cons?

well taehee is just like that and czennies wERE SO LOUD

her ‘baby don’t like it’ fit .....

it was different from the boys’ since she’s wearing like a dress like damn what if she sLIPPED

she was wearing a blindfold too

her performance is still flawless tho i mean it’s taehee come on

and when they performed ‘superhuman’

istg that markhee part everyone flipped

they were so close (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡

like i swear they could feel their breaths on each other’s faces

but it’s what the czennies want and you gotta give it to them even if the management said nO

#rebel

markhee stans were fed this season they kept hanging out with each other

they rode that horse carriage thing together

they ate donuts together

they shopped together

they messed up their korean and english at some point together

best friend goals

taehee was so excited for the dodgers game she was so adorable in the jersey

she was more than glad to be the first pitch and list off the names of the players to the members

jungwoo and hyuck trapped her so they could get on kiss cam

she was struggling

but that’s okay bc she still gets to see the dodgers play

brooklyn boys

the title’s still boys the producers are like whatever just name it brooklyn boys

after they ate they went shopping right

taehee was in the ‘don’t forget your tools’ team

taeyong mom johnny dad jungwoo child mark child taehee child

“i wanted to be the cousin!!”

“.....taehee child”

#markheebesties we love it

markhee separated from the group for a while to buy ingredients to make cocktails for the older members + staff

“you know how?”

“yeah, my dad taught me.”

“your dad is so cool.”

“i know right- *immediately* mom, i still love youuu <3333”

“we’re both minors and we’re the ones getting alcohol”

“mark, we’re in america. we’re not minors anymore.”

but later on they don’t drink alcohol to respect their korean culture :>>

when jungwoo wanted to get the pie thingy and taeyong won’t let him it was comical

mark’s like that youngest good kid

jungwoo’s like the middle kid who wanted to bUY SOMETHING BUT THEY WONT LET HIM

and taehee’s the eldest bad influence kid

*whispering* “just hide it. yeah, hide it in there. then just put it out when they’re paying for it*

mark’s just laughing off cam they were so serious

anyways they’re cooking and taehee made the guac :p

she kept on laughing at markwoo it’s cute

but she kept on eating the other group’s pasta

“hey! why do you keep eating our food?”

“diversity.”

they complimented her on her guac since she doesn’t cook that much

but she’s a great cook she learned from taeyong!!! and her dad

when they were playing beer pong the maknae line was sOOO HYPED

“LIKE A WHAT?” “LIKE A LIGHT”

“LIKE A WHAT” “LIKE A LIGHT”

and hyuck’s just looking at them weirdly like wtf hahaha markhee tingz i guess

she acted like a ring girl every time they switch to the next round

“wAIT LET ME WALK” *catwalks from side a to side b*

while they were karaoke-ing she made the cocktails and mark watched her

she kept doing tricks with the cups to make mark laugh

she let the staff taste it and they were amazed she’s such an angel i swear

“this one’s for you!!!!”

“is it good?”

“oh i should add more of this? okay, hold on”

and then the older hyungs came and were amazed

doyoung doesn’t even drink but she managed to get him to have a taste

when they were all going to sleep, she chose the bed at the very end

she used mark’s arm as a pillow

they all kinda...didn’t shower...

jk they still smell great ig

“mark you stink”

“shut up”

and then they fell asleep but the others caught them

“mark and taehee are asleep”

“really?” *laughs*

“i’m not asleep i’m just closing my eyes”

“okay but taehee’s already snoring”

*sleepily* “i DONT SNORE!!!”

[captainstevenrogerswrites]

Some time apart.......

Natalia goes on a girl’s vacation for two weeks, Steven, the twins and the fur babies miss her more than they ever could imagine. It was only two weeks but the third day in and it felt like three years had passed.

Natalia Rogers x Steven Rogers

@missusrogerswrites​

Drabble or roleplay, I have no idea, just missing my real life Natalia like crazy, so here goes......

Its only ten days.....ten days was less than two weeks and just a little over one, it should be easy to just be able to live without his wife for ten days while she went on vacation with the few girl friends she had acquired. Hell, he was the one that had finally convinced her to go. He kept himself busy, spent the days with Sarah and Ivan, Teddy, Dodger and Lilho but it was the nights that was the worst. The loneliness, the emptiness, the silence, God their house without Natalia in it was so different, and truth be told he didn't like it. He was sure by now his texts were bugging her and so tried to be patient, he knew she didn't have much signal where she was but he also knew she deserved this time and was happy she was having a good time as well. 

Staring at his phone for the hundredth time since putting their kids to bed though, it was getting late and he hadn't heard from her since early afternoon, ow was he really so obsessive now? She was having a good time, he didn't want to make her feel like he was more important than that. His heart felt heavy, the darkness being kept away by only the candle he lit on their coffee table. The TV wasn't even on, his sketches of her scattered over the table. Damn it, he really was missing the only woman he loved.

A sigh escaped his lips, of course they could have time away from one another and she would be back in less than a week but this was the first time for years that they hadn't been talking or in contact in one way or another for hours. HIs body craved to touch her, his soul ached for her, his heart begging for the day he could rush to the airport and hold her in his arms again. God, he was a silly old man, truly.

Ivan and Sarah were missing their Mommy too, he could sense it. They took longer to settle down for naps and at night, they felt cranky at bath time and he was sure they were trying to find her in every person they saw on the beach. Tony even popped over, it didn't take long after fifteen missed calls that Steven was pining for only one phone call. Its not like Steven had let things go either, the house was clean and tidy, the twins and fur babies were having as much fun with him as they could and he wasn't laying on the couch doing nothing, but Tony knew he was simply missing her and feeling bad for feeling that way as she deserved a vacation. Tony tried to convince him he wasn't being selfish, that what he felt was natural, especially when you had someone around daily and then they’re not.  

Tonight though, Tony helped him settle the kids down and made sure he ate some dinner and had a couple of beers, the mechanic insisted he could stay longer but Steven said he wanted time on his own and Natalia was going to call in the night anyway. Steven wasn't lying, his wife always made sure she called at nights and tried to text him when she could. Not because she felt she had too, but because she was missing him too.

Ten-thirty at night came, picking up his phone, he checked his messages again then sighed and placed it on the table, she was a couple of hours ahead of him and he found himself adjusted to her new time zone. Shaking his head, was that obsessive? God he hoped not. They didn't have to be connected to the hip, he was like that at all, but he was allowed to miss her presence in his life, that was normal right to miss the mother of your children and your soulmate?

When he went to bed, he hugged her pillow, the bed seemed far too big, and he had been finding himself going to bed earlier and earlier, simply because he didn't know what else to do, his life without her really wasn't anything was it? She was apart of it all, the days and nights. Did he need help?

Jumping in the shower, leaving the phone exactly where it was on the coffee table to stop himself from checking it every thirty seconds, he tried to wash away his thoughts. He smiled imagining her having dinner with her friends, laughing, dancing, having adventures and making memories, even in his head she looked beautiful and it warmed his heart he knew she was enjoying herself. She more than deserved it.

Drying himself off he stepped out and put some pajamas on, padding his feet quietly towards the twins bedrooms to check they were soundly and happily sleeping before making his way back down stairs and into the kitchen. The two dogs lifted their heads up from their sleep, realised he was okay and settled back down, their cat jumped from the back of the sofa and stretched over the window sill of the kitchen just as Steven switched the kettle on.

Reaching over towards the radio, he quietly put on a radio channel to fill the silence he still wasn't used to yet. The kettle stopped and he found himself pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes glanced at the clock ten thirty five maybe wasnt a good time to drink coffee but he didnt want miss her phone call if she called. 

Making his way back to the settee, he smiled softly and patted the heads of Dodger and Teddy and they snuggled up to him. Sipping his coffee he leaned back into the back of the sofa and tried to think of anything but his wife. He really did have it all, a beautiful wife inside and out, two magical little angels as children, the best dogs and cat he could ever ask for, a gorgeous family home near Brooklyn Beach, and a life he could only ever dream of. He knew how lucky and blessed he was everyday and he tried not to take any of it for granted either. 

Every time I think of you I always catch my breath And I'm still standing here And you're miles away

Missing you....

The words from the song on the radio finally hitting him, it was about someone missing someone when theyre left but Steven just heard it as just missing someone special and he was. “Dont worry bubba’s , Mommy will be home next week” he whispered to the dogs as if they needed reassurance.  Steven Rogers without his other half, hmmm this really was a novelty.

 Okay Steven, enough! Stop being a grumpy old sap. She’s allowed to go away and shes having fun, stop thinking about her. Do something for you!!

His mind shouted at him, his mind was right, was the hell was he doing? With that he stood up and took his coffee mug to the sink , washing it out and putting it on the side just as his phone rang. Running straight over to the coffee table he picked his phone up and grinned as he saw “Wife <3″ I.D calling. Answering it quickly, he suddenly was met with the face of his wife smiling back at him “God youre so beautiful” his words slipped out making his wife laugh “You’re meant to say hi baby first” he blushed softly and smirked “Hi baby” making them both laugh.

Sitting down on the sofa, he couldnt stop staring at her, face timing was so mihc better than a simple phone call, he loved seeing the way the small creases near her eyes would appear as she laughed and smiled, how her eyes twinkled when they talked and how her lips made him feel like a teenager and yet so calm and loved at the same time. Leaning forward slightly, he tried to balance the phone against the candle, it sliding down as Steven caught it and laughed, deciding to hold it instead. God he missed her and she missed him too, no matter where they were they were madly inlove with one another and nothing would change that.

They chatted about their day, Natalia telling him she had been on a boat ride and swam around an island with the girls, that she was tired from it but it was so worth it. Of course, Steven, even though he didnt want her to leave, said if she was tired she could get some sleep, but it was clear she , too, didnt want to leave just yet either. Steven told her that he took them all on the small boat, Natalia chuckling as they had both been on boats that day, they said in words what their bodies were already telling the other, that they missed and loved one another. Steven showed her their sleeping furbabies and then headed back up stairs, after making sure everything was locked. No matter what, they never seemed to run out of things to say. 

Creeping into their twin’s rooms, he showed Mommy her beautiful sleeping angels, seeing the tears build up in her eyes, he tried to reassure her they were all doing okay but she was going to be smothered with love from them all when she comes back, making her smile. Heading into their room, he slipped into bed and placed ‘her’ on her pillow facing him, it felt like she was facing him in bed too. Smiling softly at her, he noticed the small yawn she tried to hide from him “baby you need sleep” his tone was soft and loving, this phone call could last forever and it wouldn't be enough but he also knew she needed sleep “no...no....sweetheart, I want to talk to you a little but longer” his smile grew a little more at her stubbornness “I love you so much Natalia” His wife grinned “And I love you too, Steven Rogers, my gorgeous husband” 

He watched as her eyes flickered closed, but he didnt end the call as she murmured about missing him “I miss you too babygirl, not long now, you better be having fun out there. Captain’s orders” he saw her sleepingly smile as sleep unwillingly took her from him. As she fell into sleep soundly, he snuggled up into the blankets, she looked so peaceful and he loved her even more in that moment, if at all possible. “Sweet dreams Princess”  He could see her skin was slightly more tanned than normal, her hair tussled against the pillow and caressed down her neck, her neck he longingly wanted to kiss. 

Now it was his eyes that felt heavy but he didnt want to end the call just yet. He wanted to still have her close to him just a little bit longer, but sleep had other plans and wanted to take him to slumber as well. Within minutes, the struggle between the old man and sleep was over and Steven was sound asleep, more peaceful than he had slept the night before without her. It wasnt until his phone battery died around 4am that the phone call was ended. Love.....both Steven and Natalia said they didnt believe in it before one another now it was everything to them. They truly were meant for one another. 

[an-unknown-writers-world]

First Pitch

Summary: Bucky’s been keeping the reader at a distance, but he needs an escort to the Yankees game which leads to some unexpected confessions. 

A/N: First attempt back at writing; this is absolute trash. Sorry, not sorry. 

Word Count: 3,335

You sat at the kitchen island reading a book while you at your breakfast. It had been a peaceful morning, by the grace of god Sam and Bucky both slept in leaving you to enjoy the peace. You’d think after living together for over a year they would get along better, but the jabs never seem to end; although it is getting hard to tell if they’re because they actually care for each other and don’t want to admit it or if they truly do still hate each other. You had just taken your last bite when Bucky emerged into the kitchen. 

“Morning,” He said in a still sleepy rough voice.

“Morning, Buck.” 

You went back to your book thinking that was the end of the conversation. It’d been a year since Pepper moved you into the compound. You were a Red Room survivor and long-time friend of Natasha, so when you showed up at the remnants of the compound looking for her Pepper offered her place in what remained of the Avengers Initiative to you. It was no secret that you’d never be able to fill those shoes, they were impossible to fill, but you looked forward to being a part of something bigger. Sam had welcomed you with open arms, Bucky, on the other hand, kept you at arm’s length. 

“Any plans for the day?” Bucky asked coming to stand across the counter from you. 

His coffee cup steamed on the counter in front of him, you looked it at rather than him, confused by his sudden concern in your plans. If there was no mission in the works or casual polite conversation involved, Bucky rarely spoke to you. He was never rude, but he certainly didn’t extend an olive branch or show any interest in being friends of any kind. In fact, every time you would take a step towards friendship, he would push you away. 

“Nothing really. I might go for a run later, but I haven’t decided.” You paused for a moment. “Why, did something happen? Fury calling us in?”

He shook his head, “No,” He hesitated, “just curious.”

You stood from the stool to clear your dishes confused by the exchange. Tension between the two of you wasn’t uncommon, but this felt far different. 

“(Y/N), have you ever been to a baseball game?”

Well, this just got weirder. You thought to yourself.

You closed the dishwasher door, “No, Buck. I’ve never really cared for any sport but football.”

He nodded smiling to himself, “I remember Nat talking about going to a game with you. She had a lot of fun that day. She did warn that anyone who goes to something like that would you should be prepared for the drunk you.” He chuckled softly, “She said it’s pretty entertaining.”

Your heart warmed at the topic of your old friend. “I miss her.” You confessed. 

He placed his flesh hand on your shoulder softly, “Me too.” 

Internally your mind was throwing all kinds of flags – red danger, orange caution signs. But you smiled at the gesture.

He turned his attention back to his coffee cup; you took the opportunity to put some distance between you; taking your own cup to the coffee maker to get a fresh cup. 

“Steve and I used to go to baseball games when we were kids.” He reminisced. “The Dodgers were in Brooklyn back then.” 

You laughed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I just don’t remember a time that they weren’t in Los Angeles.” 

He smiled. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.” 

“Age isn’t relative.” You replied automatically. 

“This is harder than it was back in the day.” He mumbled so low you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear. 

You came to stand across from him, coffee cups and island in between. “Bucky?” You said trying to get his attention.

He looked up at you, you could see the torture in his eyes. 

“Hey, whatever it is. Just spit it out.” 

Bucky took a deep breath, “Would you be willing to come to the Yankees game with me this afternoon? I have to throw out the first pitch for Stark Industries.”

“Oh,” You were shocked at the question.

You searched his expression, he seemed sincere in his request and you could see the anxiety eating away at him as you contemplated his request. Part of you wanted to decline the request because it seemed so far out of the left-field, but the bigger part of you wanted to say yes. You wanted to be friends with your housemates, and this was a good first step.  Besides you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t admit there was a part of you that had wanted more with Bucky.

“It’s okay if you can’t or don’t want to.”

“No, no.” You suddenly felt bad it took so long for you to answer. “I’d be happy to go with you. Two conditions, though.” You smiled.

“Name ‘em.” He replied with a confused smile.

“You have to answer all my ridiculous questions and beer is a requirement.”

He laughed; it was a musical sound that you didn’t often hear. “I think I can handle both.”

“When is the game?” You asked. 

“We need to leave in two hours.” He replied.

You scrunched your face in frustration as you rounded the counter to put your cup in the dishwasher. “You’re giving me a two-hour notice to figure out the game of baseball and figure out appropriate attire for a game.” 

Bucky smiled, “You don’t have to learn anything about the game, I’ll teach you.” He drank from his coffee cup, “And its September in New York, whatever you might wear to a picnic or to the park or something, that would be fine for a baseball game.”

You nodded, “I guess I’m going to go get dressed.”

As you turned to walk away Bucky’s hand casually caught your own, you turned back to look at him.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

You squeezed his hand lightly. “You certainly don’t have to thank me.” You smiled back, “I should be the one thanking you for taking me to someplace new.” 

** Two Hours Later **

 The clock read 1:56 PM and you were startled by a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“(Y/N), the cars here,” Bucky said from the opposite side of the door. 

“Coming.” You said getting up from your vanity.

You heard the footsteps down the hall signaling that Bucky wasn’t waiting outside your door any longer.  Taking a deep breath, you tried to remind yourself this was just another day. You looked in the mirror one last time – sporting a red tank top, denim capris and black Nike’s; it didn’t feel right, but it would have to do. Opening the door, you made your way down the hall and the flight of stairs leading to the big open foyer. Bucky stood with his back to the stairs looking at his phone, the sound of your footsteps drawing his attention to turn around. 

“Wow,” He said smiling. “You look amazing.” 

A blush crept up your cheeks, “Thanks, Buck.”

He held out his arm, “We should go, Pepper sent over a car. Apparently, she doesn’t trust me to get to the game myself.”

You laughed grabbing a hold of his arm. “I probably wouldn’t trust you either.” 

“I should probably be offended by that statement,” Bucky said as he led you out of the door.

“You probably would be, if you didn’t know there was some truth to it.”

He laughed as the driver opened the backdoor.

“Thank you,” You said as he waited for you to get in before closing it himself. 

The drive went by quickly despite being through heavy traffic, electricity seemed to fill the silent car as you both looked out your separate windows as the car. When you arrived at the stadium you were taken by a security team to a private box that overlooked the stadium while Bucky was led to the locker room where he would meet the team and prepare for the first pitch.

“Sergeant Barnes will be up after the ceremonial pitch, through those doors,” the man pointed, “is a full bar and eatery. If you need anything, Mrs. Barnes security will be right outside the door. Enjoy the game.”

The man didn’t wait for any response, he just left the box. You were shocked by the man’s assumption that you were married. You wondered if Pepper knew you would be in attendance, or was Bucky planning to bring someone else? Before you let your mind wander any further you walked through the door the attendant had pointed out and got two beers – one for you and one for Bucky.

You sat in the middle seat of the row and watched as the players of each team warmed up and Bucky appeared to chat up some executive looking people. You were impressed at how casual he made everything look, you knew the anxiety he was feeling about the situation only because you had known him so long. You imagined if Steve and Natasha were still here how different this situation would be, you may not even be here; but if you were you could imagine Steve cheering him on and Natasha telling him not to cheat with his metal arm. Cheers broke your thoughtful trance as the announcer introduced the ‘Avenger Sgt Bucky Barnes on behalf of Stark Industries’. You smiled and cheer from your seat as he threw out the first pitch. 

It was only a matter of minutes before the box door opened and Bucky appeared. 

“Looked good out there Barnes.” You said turning to look at him.

“Thanks, it’s been a long time since I’ve thrown a baseball.” He said coming to sit next to you.

“What a hundred years or so?” You smirked.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes now do you?” He laughed.

“I don’t know if they actually have any effect on you, but I got you a beer.” You gestured to the cup holder in front of him.

“Thank you,” He said reaching for the bottle.

You watched rotations of batters come up slowly piecing together the bits of the game, you’d probably be more focused on the game if Bucky’s arm wasn’t slung across the back of your seat. It was a simple gesture that shouldn’t be so distracting, but this was the closest proximity you’d ever been with each other.  Emptying your own beer bottle, you slipped it back in the cupholder.

“Would you like another?” Bucky asked as he emptied his own. “I believe that was part of the agreement.”

You smiled at him, “Yes please.”

He stood to grab both bottles, “I’ll be right back.”

The short time he was gone you found yourself paying closer attention to the game, it was seemingly straight forward – ball hit, run to base and try not to get out. It was clearly more complicated, but that was definitely the basic understanding. 

Bucky came to sit next to you again, holding out the beer to you with a smile grinning from ear to ear. 

“Thank you” You took it, “what’s got you so smiley?” You asked.

“Did you know they think we’re married?” He laughed.

“I assumed they probably did. The man who brought me up here referred to me as Mrs. Barnes.” 

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Bucky mumbled,

He had a good habit of mumbling; you often chose not to respond because you rarely thought you were actually supposed to hear them. A blush crept up your cheeks at his statement, nonetheless. A few more silent moments passed between you.

“I feel like I’m not keeping up my end of the bargain.” He said breaking the silence. 

“What do you mean?”

“I was under the impression that I would be answering ridiculous questions.” 

You laughed, “It seems straight forward enough, I haven’t thought of any.” 

“They don’t have to be just about the game.” He replied.

The answer surprised you. Bucky had never been very open with you and this seemed like an open invitation to be just that.

“Well, this could get interesting.” You smiled before taking a sip of your beer.

He flashed you a sincere Bucky smile, the kind that could melt even the thickest ice blocks.

“You never did answer the question about this?” You gestured towards the beer in his hand.

“It does affect me; it takes a lot more than the average person.”

You nodded, “Do you really hate Sam?”

He laughed, “I can’t answer that, you’ll tell him.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I would never.” 

He stuck out his flesh pinky towards you, “promise?”

You pink promised him.

“No I don’t; not since after the blip.”

“But you’re still mean to him?”

“That term is a little harsh.”

You laughed, “You moved all of his bedroom furniture out to the courtyard knowing he’d come home in the middle of the night from a mission.”

Bucky laughed. “Point taken.”

You paused thinking for a moment, “What is your favorite color?” 

He looked at you puzzled by the simple question, “Red.” He replied.

“Favorite musician from your era?”

“It would depend on what the occasion was; probably Louis Armstrong or Bing Crosby.”

“Two names I can actually recognize.” You laughed.

“I’ve seen the stacks of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald vinyl albums in your room.”

“You’ve been in there?” You questioned. 

“A few times.” He hesitated as he watched your expression, “Sometimes if you’re on a long mission or missed a check-in I will sit in there while I wait to hear.” He looked away and picked at the label on the bottle. “It makes me feel a little closer to you, the room smells like you too.”

You smiled at the sentiment of his statement. 

The two of you bantered back and forth, him answering any question you could think of; you attempted to keep them as lighthearted as possible. The game seemed to pass by quickly, the crowd being your indicator if something was good or bad. None of it seemed to matter much to the two of you. Bucky got up to get you both another round of drinks and came back with a pair of filled shot glasses. 

“To better friendships.” He said handing you one of the glasses. 

You smiled at him, “So you thought we were friends before this?” 

He looked at you confused, 

“I’m kidding Bucky.” You said setting your hand on his thigh. “Spre prietenie.”

Both of you downed your shots.

“I didn’t know you could speak Romanian.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

A light breeze kicked in causing you to shiver. You didn’t feel cold, but you were sure the alcohol had lowered your blood pressure causing your body temperature to decrease as well. 

“It’s cold, you should take my jacket,” Bucky said shimming out of the long sleeve black flannel he had on.

It left him in a short sleeve white t-shirt that sculpted to his body perfectly. He pulled the flannel over your shoulders wrapping you in the warmth and the sweet smell of him. 

“Thanks, Buck, guess I hadn’t realized it would get so chilly.”

He smiled back at you. 

“Alright folks, it’s time for the 7th inning stretch! Everybody on your feet!” The announcer called out. 

“Wait, it’s a real thing?” You asked with a laugh. 

“Come on doll,” Bucky said standing up. 

You had never seen him like this- childlike, innocent happiness. 

“Take me out to the ball game, Take me out with the crowd;” He sung out, swaying with the crowd. “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don't care if I never get back.” He smiled at you as you watched in awe, “ Let me root, root, root for the home team, If they don't win, it's a shame. For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out, At the old ball game” Bucky counted three strikeouts on his fingers in your direction. 

The crowd cheered as the song ended with everyone taking their seats. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at this new version of Bucky you witnessed. 

“What?” He said sitting down, his arm stretching behind your seat again. 

“Nothing,” 

“(Y/N), spit it out.” 

"This is a good look for you, Buck."

He looked at you confused.

"Happy." You stated, "I'm not even joking when I say that your smile could melt the polar ice caps."

The sun cast a shadow across his face, but you were pretty sure that you were witnessing him blush for the first time. You were beginning to think the alcohol was a bad idea, the line between the Bucky you knew, and the alcohol influenced Bucky was blurry and only got worse with each passing second. Picking up the bottle from the cup holder you finished what was left of it.

“I’m going to run to the little girl’s room.” You said standing up.

Bucky smiled up at you, “Do you want me to grab you another drink while you’re gone”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.”

You took the space as an opportunity to breathe and try and get your head back on straight. Something changed, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was no way that Bucky had ingested enough alcohol to make this kind of change. 

Smiling at him you sat back down. His arm quickly found its way around the back of your seat and you took it as an opportunity to make a move of your own, settling into your seat you rested your head on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture and he didn’t seem to pull away from it. Instead, his arm came to rest on your own pulling you closer to his side. Between the alcohol, the fall heat and the glorious smell that could only be described as Bucky you found yourself in a trance-like state.

The crowd cheered in the background as a fan caught a fly ball. 

“Hey, Buck,”

“Yeah doll?” 

“Thank you for today.” 

He squeezed you a little tighter, “I should be the one thanking you for coming with me.” You could feel the sigh he let out. “I also owe you an apology.”

With that, you pulled your head back to look at him.

“Please hear me out.”

“Okay.” 

“Ever since the day you moved in, I’ve kept you at a distance and I haven’t been fair to you. You can relate to so many things from my past and that terrified me; I would see you do amazing things and care so much about others around you. Every day I seem to fall more in love with you and I’m tired of fighting it.”

You smiled at his confession, pressure building in your chest. 

“I know that I haven’t given you any reason to feel the same, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to change that.”

Before he could say anymore you leaned forward to kiss him, your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. When you broke the kiss, you leaned your forehead against his neck trying to catch your breath, he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m guessing that means you’ll let me try to make it up to you.”

You both laughed softly.

Looking up at him you smiled, “You don’t have anything to make up.”

You laid your head on his shoulder again. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” You said softly.  “I don’t want to deal with Sam yet.”

Bucky laughed at your truthful statement. “I know a few ways to shut him up.”

It was your turn to laugh at him. 

He leaned in kissing you again, the game in front of you completely forgotten. You weren’t sure what any of this meant, but you were more than willing to find out.

**********

Thanks for reading!! If like what you read, you can find more here.

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[mrsalwayswrite]

Touch My Hands and Heal Me (BuckyxOFC & StevexOFC)

So just a fun one shot to help me get over some writer’s block. I’ve had this idea in mind for awhile so I’m excited to finally get it out. 

Warnings: Some swearing, violence. 

Words: 6k

Touch My Hands and Heal Me

This was the last place Steve wanted to be on a Thursday night. Nothing against the bar itself but it had been a hellish week and all he wanted to do was relax in his suite in the Tower and pretend for 5 minutes that he was an average guy.

 Which is probably why Sam dragged his ass to this bar. 

And of course, Bucky tagged along even though he was just as exhausted. Either from a self-induced guilt trip or his belief in Steve's inability to stay out of trouble, Bucky grumbled but tucked his head down and followed silently. Jerk. 

 Sam led them down the streets of NYC to a little hole in the wall sports bar an air force friend recommended. 

 It always amazed Steve how easily people failed to notice him without the suit and shield. Walking down the sidewalk with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap on and a brown leather jacket over jeans, no one looked at him twice. Or Bucky in a black hoodie. Or Sam in a gray Nike long sleeve and ball cap. It was nice that there was somewhat a sense of esoteric, that only on the rare occasion was he swarmed now, or perhaps people were used to him. What it truly made him realize was that most people only really saw and cared about Captain America and not Steve Rogers.  No one cared about the little guy from Brooklyn anymore. All they wanted was the glorified icon of patriotism. 

 He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, willing the tension in his head and muscles to leave. Tony and him had a long meeting with Senator Thaddeus Ross today and when it finally concluded, he fled to the gym to make use of the weight bags. He probably would be receiving a bill from Tony because of all the busted bags he left behind. The man was a genius, you would think he would have reinforced them long ago. 

 Apparently he needed a drink- according to Sam. 

 He was pleasantly surprised when he walked through the door of the bar -The Old Guys Tavern-  and found it calm. It was a smaller establishment, nestled between a BBQ restaurant and a sporting goods store on a back road. It was a sports bar with several TVs showing different games playing, framed pictures all over the walls of different famous athletes, a few framed mirrors, a jukebox in the back corner near 2 pool tables. A long bar took up half of one wall, across from it several booths and a few scattered tables near the pool tables. It was simple and felt reminiscent of how bars used to be. The lights were dim but instead of feeling like a club -no matter what Natasha said he was NOT doing that again- it gave an illusion of privacy. 

 He quickly noticed that among the 23 people already there, most were male and either middle aged or elderly, with the leaning towards those with gray hair. 

 "I thought you two would feel at home here amongst your age group." Sam quipped, scanning the bar with a smile on his face. 

 "Does that mean we need to find a kindergarten for you?" Bucky retorted. 

 Steve just shook his head as Sam laughed.

 They settled into an open leather booth, a Minnesota Vikings versus Green Bay Packers football game played on the TV across from them. 

 "You dragged our asses out here, you got first round."

 Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "A'ight man, I see how it is. I try to help you have a social life and this is the thanks I get. See if I bring you out again, cyborg."

 Steve watched Sam walk up to the bar before turning to his oldest friend, seated across from him. The dark rings under his eyes only confirming how the week had affected him too. 

 "I'm fine, Steve."

 "Your face says otherwise."

 The corners of Bucky's lips turned up for a moment. "I'll be fine. It's just…" He sighed heavily, running a hand through his long, dark hair. 

 "A reminder that we're in the wrong century?"

 "Yeah...we shouldn't be here."

 "I know, Buck. I know."

 3 days ago they had attended Dum-Dum Dugan's funeral and it hit them both hard. He had been the last Howling Commando alive besides Steve and Bucky and it felt like a knife in the heart. They did not just lose a friend. It felt like the closing of a book. Another reminder of something they used to be a part of, something that they knew, was gone. Yet here they were, drowning in the murky waters of the 21st Century. 

 "Alright boys, here it is." Sam slid a glass bottle of Heineken to both of them while slipping next to Steve in the booth with his own. "You guys made plans for next week yet?"

 "Clint said we could visit the farm. Natasha and Wanda will go, I'm certain." Steve said, idly rubbing the label as the condensation dampened his finger. 

 "Vision will go if Wanda goes." Bucky snorted, taking a sip of his beer. 

 "You sure it's alright if I leave? I can tell my family that something has come up. Can't promise they won't show up at the Tower with enough food to feed an army though." Sam smirked.

 "No, you deserve to go see your family." Steve said, hoping to hide the pain in his voice. "Buck and I will figure out something." He hoped. 

 Next week was Thanksgiving, the first one Steve and Bucky would be together for since 1944. The one last year, Bucky had been in Wakanda, still working to get the trigger words out of his head. Thankfully Princess Shuri figured it out. Which reminded Steve to contact T'Challa soon to get an update -from his viewpoint- of the revisions of the Accords. Steve did not trust Senator Ross' update from earlier. That man had an agenda and clearly resented the need to keep the Avengers updated. 

 "I'll make sure to bring some of my mom's pumpkin pies back for you guys. Soon as I tell her the great Captain America ate the whole one last year, she will lose her mind."

 Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck at the reminder.  "I didn't realize it was to share. I thought Pepper bought it for the kitchen."

 "Hey! Don't compare my momma's home-made, award-winning pumpkin pie to some cheap-ass, store-bought kind! I should kick your ass for that insult."

 "Oh, I want to see that." Bucky deadpanned, keeping his eyes on the TV across from them. 

 Steve changed the subject before the bickering started. He knew it was mostly in good humor but sometimes it grated on his nerves. "Parker stopped by this morning to try out the new suit Tony made him."

 "You still seriously considering using him on the field? He's a kid." Sam questioned. 

 "He took out both you and Buck at the airport."

 "Alright, touché, but still. A damn kid."

 "I told Tony if he keeps his grades up and practices hard with us, I won't fight it." Steve smirked. "But if he gets hurt, Tony has to deal with Aunt May."

 That made them all chuckle. Once when Peter practiced with them, he had landed wrong and twisted his ankle. From what they heard, you would have thought Peter had lost a limb with how Aunt May berated Tony and fussed over her nephew. It had become a running joke amongst the team. 

 An hour passed, Steve and Bucky both having to take their turn buying the beers, as they chatted or just watched the games on the TVs. Everything had been going so well, which should have been a flashing beacon that something was going to happen. If this week had been any indication. 

 One of the guys who had been playing pool with a few others started their way. He was in his forties, slightly overweight, in business attire, looking like he got off work at an office and came out to grab a beer with friends.  Steve had noticed him several times over the past hour glancing their way but paid no mind. No one else had approached them or even acknowledged them. Most likely someone trying to figure out how he recognized their faces. 

 He approached the table and stared at each of them before a toothy, crooked grin appeared. Looking back over his shoulder, he called over to his friends. "It is those goddamn Avenger shits. I knew it. Coming in here like they own the place."

 "Hey, back off, man." Sam tried to keep his cool but Steve could see that the guy had gotten under his skin. "We are just here for a beer, minding our own business."

 "You know, I bet all those stunts you pull, the "world-saving" and shit, it's all fake. You pretend, keep the masses happy and feeling protected while you just live like kings off government money. Yeah…I know the truth."

 Before any of them could respond to the guy, about how very wrong he was, a new voice from the bar spoke up. 

 "Chuck, quit trying to start a fight. They could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

 The guy -apparently Chuck- glared over his shoulder at the speaker. "Shut up. No one asked you to get involved."

 A woman probably mid twenties slid down off the bar stool she was sitting on and stalked their way. Steve can't help but watch her, feeling as if a hurricane was approaching.  Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her hazel eyes stared defiantly at Chuck. She wore a loose white t-shirt with some kind of symbol on the front and black leggings that highlighted all her curves and showed off her long legs. Combat boots and a dark leather jacket completed the look. 

 "Just cause you're still pissed doesn't mean you gotta start shit. Now, leave them alone, you're bothering them."

 "We will leave. We didn't come here to start trouble." Steve injected, glancing between the man and woman standing at the end of the table. 

 She turned slightly to pin him with a pointed look that had him regretting his words and shutting his mouth.  She turned back to the guy -Chuck- and they glared at each other for several long, awkward, tense moments before he huffed and took a step back. 

 "Bitch," he muttered but glared at her still, "probably going to let them all fuck you like the whore you are."

 As soon as the last word spewed out of his mouth, she hit him with a right hook that left him half sprawled on the table beside them. 

 "Dee, no fighting. God, girl, get out of here!" The bartender called over, clearly exasperated as he ran his hand through his white hair. 

 "Sorry, Ray." She shrugged unapologetically. Flexing the fingers on her right hand, she turned back to Steve, Bucky and Sam. "Have a good night, boys." 

 Steve watched her walk out of the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chuck get up, spitting blood on the floor, with the help of one of his friends. He looked like he wanted to say something but his friend quickly dragged him back to the pool tables. 

 Perfect. Steve was not in the mood for a fight. 

 "Think she's ok?" Bucky was staring at her retreating form also, even when she disappeared from view. He turned back slowly to meet their confused looks. "That hit...might have broken something."

 They sat in silence for a second before sliding out of the booth and heading out.

 The air had a winter's bite to it but not yet unbearable. Although it took a lot for Steve to feel really cold now. Those rare moments always brought up painful memories of icy waters and darkness. Something he prefered not to think about. 

 They managed to glimpse her before she turned down another street. Simultaneously they started to jog to catch up. Thankfully not too many people on the sidewalk stopped to stare at three huge guys casually jogging at 10pm at night in jeans. 

 "Hey yo! Dee!" Sam called out as they turned down the street.

 She stopped, slowly turning around to watch them approach with a single eyebrow raised. "You boys lost?"

 "Naw, we wanted to see if you're alright. That was quite a punch."

 Thank God for Sam's ability to always talk. Steve never thought he would be glad for that one day but right now he was. Staring at her, he felt tongue-tied.  

 She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers. "I'm fine. Not a big deal."

 Steve could not help but notice her nails were painted a shimmery dark blue. 

 "Why did you do it?" They all looked at Bucky with his hands in his pockets as he spoke. "I mean, you didn't have to stand up for us. Hell, he has to weigh twice what you do. So...how come you got involved?"

 "I don't like bullies."

 "Ah shit, she's the female version of you, Steve." Bucky bemoaned, dragging a hand down his face.

 She giggled, the sound rich and feminine, and Steve could not help but smile in response. 

 "I'll take that as a compliment, Sergeant Barnes." 

 "Call me Bucky, please."

 "Ok, Bucky."

 "I guess you already know Steve and I." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your name Dee?"

 She seemed to hesitate for a second, looking back over her shoulder. "Lydia."

 "Nice to meet you, Lydia. Thanks for helping out back there."

 "Oh believe me, it was my pleasure. I've been wanting to hit him for a while. I doubt Ray will let me back though."

 "Cause you hit a rude customer? I'd think you're doing him a favor." Sam snorted.

 "Ah no, I may have hit Chuck's cousin last week...broke his nose."

 The three stared at her in varying degrees of amusement and shock.

 "What? He was bad mouthing the New England Patriots. Tom Brady is my boy."

 "Shit, doll, you're something else." Bucky laughed. 

 "Thank you. Now it's lovely to meet you all but I need to go. Tootles."

 "Wait!" Steve was not sure why he stopped her except that some part of him was not ready to lose her yet. He took a step closer. "Where are you headed?"

 She raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what he was getting at. "Home."

 "Let us walk you. It's the least we can do."

 "It's not that far, I promise. I'm sure you superheroes have better things to do. I'll be fine."

 "Come on, Lydia, we got you kicked out. Let us make sure you get home safe, yeah?" Sam joined the petition. 

 She chewed her bottom lip, eyes scanning between the three of them before letting out a sigh. "If it makes you feel better."

 ----------

 When Bucky went to the bar with Steve and Sam, his expectations were to keep an eye on Steve, taunt Sam and just pretend that he had actually slept the past five days instead of pacing or staring at a wall all night. 

 Watching a beautiful dame punch a guy to defend them… this night got a whole lot more interesting. 

 The four of them walked down the sidewalk together, Steve and Bucky behind Sam and her...Lydia.

 "So, you know who we are and what we do," Sam said casually, "tell us about you."

 "Well I get into fights at bars and I watch football. I'm not that interesting."

 Bucky could not help but snort. A shared glance with Steve confirmed his own amusement.  

 "Alright. Who taught you to fight? You got a mean swing that clearly shows some training." Sam continued. 

 "My brother." She shrugged. "What were you guys doing out? I would think you'd have booze at the Tower or be more likely to go to a high-class, expensive bar instead of Ray's little place."

 "Naw, we just wanted somewhere quiet and out of the way. Besides, if we break out any booze, Tony always somehow senses it and magically appears."

 She laughed, and Bucky felt his heart lighten at the sound. 

 "Maybe we were hoping to meet someone as beautiful as you, doll." Bucky was not sure where the words came from, but for a moment he felt like the Bucky from the 40s who knew how to charm and flirt.  A forgotten piece of him buried beneath the decades of trauma endured under HYDRA'S thumb. 

 She spun around to look at him, still walking backwards with a smirk and teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm far from beautiful but I'm more than happy to pretend for you."

 He chuckled, he could feel Steve's curious eyes on him but he paid no mind. It felt good to remember this piece of him, to remind himself he was more than a damaged person, even for only a minute. "Dollface, you just gave the best right hook I've ever seen a dame throw. I'm certain that is the sexiest thing I've seen in a long time."

 Laughing, she paused momentarily to slide to his side and kiss his cheek. Her arm slipped through his and they continued walking like nothing had happened. 

 Except something had happened. 

 With her touch, it felt like all his senses tripled in intensity. Her kiss...such an innocent kiss yet it set his blood on fire and brought out a warmth in his bones that even HYDRA could not freeze out. 

 "You go around kissing strangers often?"

 She winked at Steve. "Only the cute ones."

 "She called you cute, man!" Sam laughed. 

 Bucky pretended to scoff. "Cute...I'm not cute. Take that back." He nudged her with his elbow, thankful she was on his right side. 

 "Would you prefer devilishly handsome?"

 "Hey, if the shoe fits…" Bucky shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. Steve's chuckling almost broke it. His blue eyes met her hazel and he realized he was glad they had met. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way- Cupid's bow lips, button nose, soft features. She was tall for most women, about 5' 10" even in just combat boots. Yet it was the energy around and within her that made her stand out. She felt like joy...she radiated life...there was a sparkle in her eyes that had not been tainted by the evils of this world yet. 

 "Pain in the ass also fits." Steve muttered, walking on Lydia's other side. 

 "Punk."

 "Jerk."

 She slipped her other arm through Steve's.  "I'm pretty sure 'trouble' is the best description."

 "Now that I can attest to." Sam said, leading the group. 

 They walked another block in the same formation. Lydia between Steve and himself, her arms looped through theirs. They chatted, flirted and teased easily, like they had known each other their whole lives. It was odd but Bucky was not complaining. It felt good. He found himself hoping this was not the last time they would see her. The warmth infusing itself into him from her touch was addictive. Her laughter and smiles made the darkness in his mind slowly fade. If the shared looks between him and Steve just over her head meant anything, he knew Steve felt the same way. 

 "My apartment is just down the street. You don't have to walk me to the door."

 "Trying to get rid of us?" Steve asked.

 She just laughed and shook her head. "When did I become so lucky to have three such handsome gentlemen to escort me home?"

 "When you slugged a guy to defend us." Bucky caught her eye and winked. "You're stuck with us now."

 "I'm not complaining." 

 One moment they all are laughing and talking like the best of friends. In the next moment, everything changed.

 A shot rang out.

 Bucky could feel the bullet whizz between his and Lydia's head. 

 Shit. 

 In a split second all three guys went into defense mode. Steve grabbed Lydia, shielding her with his body as he pushed her against a brick wall in a side alley. Immediately, Bucky and Sam flanked him on either side. Without a word, Bucky pulled out a pistol for both Steve and Sam, handing them over, then retrieved one for himself. He knew after this, Steve would criticize the amount of weapons on him for just a run to the bar. Bucky did not plan on sharing about the amount of knives on him additionally. He did not want to worry Steve that much. The less he knew in this case, the better. 

 His eyes scanned the nearby rooftops. The trajectory of the bullet showed the shooter was somewhere above them. At least that narrowed his search. Somewhat. On the other hand, he doubted they acted alone. Why give away their position? Did the shooter just have terrible aim? Were their others? Why the hell did this have to happen now?

 His breathing slowed, senses on high alert, eyes trained for any movement. He waited, listening intently for any sign of back-up. Quickly peeking around the corner, he noticed the side road they were on was deserted. It consisted of several closed stores on the side they had been walking on and across the street was apartment complexes. Logically there should have been someone walking around at this time. It was NYC, there was always someone awake. His eagle-eyes scanned around them, searching desperately for wherever that bullet originated from. Or for the others bound to be laying in wait somewhere around here. 

 He hated being shot at. 

 "Sniper, my ten o'clock. Apartment building, top floor, third window in." He reported, glancing behind him at the others after another peek around the side. 

 Sam faced the opposite way, keeping an eye on the other side of the alley, but nodded at Bucky's report. 

 Steve hovered over Lydia, who was crouched on the dirty ground. His eyes swept over the area and the switch from casual Steve Rogers to righteous Captain America was evident. Most likely wishing he had his shield. 

 "HYDRA?"

 "Not sure." Bucky replied, grip tightening on his pistol. Of course when they were having a great time, those bastards would show up. Damn it.  "You alright, doll?"

 "Yea...yeah." She stuttered out, still crouched underneath Steve. Her eyes were wide but clear, breathing fast but manageable. His opinion of her increased. Although she seemed frightened, she was not panicking. A reaction most common in civilians being shot at for the first time. 

 Steve spoke to Bucky. "Think you can get him?"

 "Not here."

 "Go. We got your back."

 Before he moved, a hand gripped his hoodie, surprising him. Following the hand that was holding him in place, he met her eyes. 

 "Be safe." She murmured, hazel eyes meeting his stormy blue in earnest. 

 "Just for you." With a wink, he slipped out the alley, keeping to the shadows and moved silently as a ghost. 

 It did not take long for him to get into position. He only wished he had his sniper rifle.  Climbing some rickety, metal stairs attached to the back of a store, he swiftly placed himself across from the sniper on a rooftop. If he had more time, he would have preferred to go into the apartment and silently kill the sniper, but for some odd reason he felt like he was working against the clock. 

 Breath in. 

Breath out. 

Breath in. 

Breath out. 

Breathe in.

Bang. 

 Holding the smoking pistol in the direction of the apartment, he waited. There did not seem to be any further movement.  He wondered if he should go investigate, just to confirm. God, if this was HYDRA, he did not want to leave any civilians without protection. With the gunshots fired, he figured someone would have called the cops by now. Hopefully they would be useful with the civilians.  

 Racing back across the rooftop, he flew down the stairs ready to confirm the sniper's death. It was then a new sound drifted to him…and he bolted towards it. Heart racing within his chest. 

 Please no. He begged silently. 

 He turned the corner to see where the fight really was. The sniper had only been a diversion. Something to force them into the intended alley.

 They had played right into the enemy's hand. 

 Twelve guys in all black, faces covered, made the crowded alley even smaller. One was on the ground lying still, a pool of blood growing beneath his chest. Three were cornering Sam, taking turns attacking him with batons. Six were actively fighting Steve, trying to take him down using tasers, yet they were never able to subdue him fully.  Two had Lydia between them, both gripping one of her arms each as she struggled and thrashed to escape looking like a wildcat.

 Please no. 

 Bucky threw himself into the fight, fear and rage pouring into his blood to fuel him. He tackled one of the men cornering Sam, a knife slipping in between the man's helmet and Kevlar, blood spurting from his neck. Bucky rolled off him, and in two strides jabbed a knife into the back of the knees of one of Steve's attackers. The man dropped, howling and unable to stand. Another swipe and kick brought another man under his knife, blood oozing where a kidney was. 

 "Lydia!" Steve cried, throwing one of his attackers against the brick wall behind him. 

 The two men were trying to manhandle her into a doorway but her twisting, kicking and flailing made it difficult. 

 Bucky threw his bloodied knife into the thigh of one of them. The man stumbled, almost dropping Lydia, who cried out at the harsh treatment. Before the other man could raise his own pistol, Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand and crushed the end. Pure rage filled him at the thought of them trying to take her. He punched the man, now holding the useless gun, in the side of the head with his metal arm. The man dropped like a rock. The pistol bounced on the ground when it fell from his hand. 

 In a fluid motion, Bucky yanked the knife out of the other man's thigh and kicked him in the head. The man's head rocked back further than humanly possible with a cracking sound. 

 Silence hung over the alley after Steve and Sam knocked out or killed their attackers. Bucky stood there for a long moment, surveying the carnage around him, and trying to steady his breathing. His hands shook slightly. Blood was splattered on his black hoodie and jeans. It had been so easy -too easy- to take the lives of those men. Even though he did it to protect Steve, Sam and Lydia...his hands never felt clean. Would he ever be clean? Would he always be a monster?

 "Bucky?"

 His rage evaporated at the soft whimper of his name.

 "It's ok, doll. I got you." He pulled her into his arms, away from the bodies of the men who tried to take her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest while his own arms held her close. She trembled but if it was from fear or fading adrenaline, he was unsure. Murmuring soothing words to her, he ran a hand up and down her back in comfort. 

 Why did this have to happen tonight?

 He glanced back over to see the spread of bodies on the ground, all wearing black clothing that looked vaguely military. Nothing like what HYDRA usually wore. Sam was on the phone, probably calling the fellow Avengers for clean up and to scout the area. Steve was stepping over the downed men, coming to his side. 

 "Are you hurt?"

 Bucky shook his head, his eyes scanning over his best friend. "You good?"

 "Yeah, she ok?"

 Lydia turned her head, reaching an hand out to place on his forearm. "I'm fine...thank you."

 Steve patted her hand on his arm but did not remove it. He glanced around once more before meeting Bucky's eyes. "This doesn't...these men don't seem like HYDRA."

 "I noticed. Wrong weapons and fighting tactics. More like mercenaries."

 "Mmmm." He rubbed the back of his neck before looking at Lydia, still in Bucky's arms. "They seemed pretty intent on taking you. Any reason why?"

 That question had itched at Bucky too. HYDRA would be more interested in taking himself and Steve. She had been the focus of this attack. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they let her walk home alone. 

 "No...no...I don't recognize them."

 "It was a long shot. Well I think you should stay with…" suddenly Steve's eyes widened and he recoiled. A second later, blood soaked his white t-shirt in the middle of his chest. 

 Then the sound of a muffled shot rang out in the alley. 

 Bucky glanced over to see one of the downed men Steve had been fighting, on his knees, pistol extended. He staggered to his feet and took off back on the side road. 

 "Sam!" Bucky cried, pointing to the escaping man. 

 The Falcon did not hesitate. He raced after the man, a snarl on his face, eyes determined. 

 Turning back to his best friend, disbelief clouded his mind as he saw all the blood soaking Steve's shirt. 

 No. 

 No.

 NO! 

 Steve placed a hand on his chest, a dazed look on his face as he pulled it back and watched the blood drip off his skin. Ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees, still staring at his hand. 

 "No, no, no! Damn it, Steve! NO!" Bucky moved to his side, practically ripping the leather jacket off Steve's shoulders and tearing the t-shirt in two to see how extensive the injury was. The bullet had entered Steve's upper back, almost hitting his spine and exited the middle of his chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood poured out, leaving trails of red on Steve’s torso. 

 "Sorry, Buck."

 "No, no. Don't you start that shit. You'll be fine. Damn super soldier shit is good for something." He tried to staunch the blood flow with Steve's ripped shirt but the training in the back of his mind told him it was useless. His lungs would be filling with blood now. It would take a miracle to save him. Yet Bucky did not stop his first aid. He refused to let his best friend die. He couldn't...he could not live without Steve. They had only just found each other again. He couldn't...God, please no, not Steve...he had to live. Bucky was not ready to be alone again.

 Lydia slipped to Steve's other side. Gently she took his bloody hand and clasped it between her own. Tears coated her cheeks as she watched. 

 "Buck…"

 "No, stop talking. Everyone is on their way. Sam called them. It'll be fine."

 "I need you to…"

 "Nope, don't even start trying that speech."

 Steve rolled his eyes, blood beginning to taint his lips. "Jerk."

 "Punk."

 "Steve, look at me." Lydia stated. Both soldiers watched her, her commanding tone unable to ignore. "You're going to be alright but you'll still need to rest for a while, ok?" She glanced over at Bucky, a fire burning in her eyes. "Hold him steady."

 What?

 He did not have time to question her before the strangest thing happened.  

 Lydia leaned forward and pressed her lips to Steve's bloodied ones. One of her hands cradled the back of his head, as her kiss deepened. Even on the brink of death, Steve had no problem reciprocating. His bloodied hand cupped her cheek, leaving behind a stain on her skin. Their lips moved as if they had done this before...no hesitation...no awkward fumbling… What started off as a soft caress was turning into something more heated. 

 Bucky momentarily felt like a voyeur and was beyond confused. Steve should be saving his breath, not exerting himself. Damn that looked like a great kiss though. 

 The kiss lasted only five seconds and when they separated, both were breathing heavy like it had been far longer. Her lips were tainted red now, but her eyes shone brighter like starlight caught in her irises. 

 She looked at Bucky, tears streaming down her cheeks unashamedly. "Take care of him." Quickly she leaned over Steve, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s  hoodie, and gave him a hard kiss on the lips before standing up and dashing away. 

 "What….LYDIA!" Bucky yelled after her, watching her run down the alley and turn onto another street. Part of him wanted to chase after her and demand answers but a cough from Steve diverted his attention. 

 "Hey, it's ok. They will…."

 "Look." Steve interrupted, motioning at Bucky's hand. 

 He glanced down to see scraped knuckles, probably from when he tackled one of the men. Not a big deal. The serum would heal them within a day. Yet they were healing...immediately...right before his eyes. Within seconds, they looked completely normal, only Steve's blood marred them. 

 What?

 Immediately, Bucky pulled the torn shirt from Steve's chest, gaze locked onto the exit wound that would surely kill his best friend. A gush of blood should have resulted from the compact being removed from the wound, blood allowed to flow freely once again. Yet nothing happened. Dried blood caked his chest turning a dark red but there was nothing bright red...nothing fresh. 

 "Holy shit."

 In the next moment, Bucky felt as if the world tilted off its axis. 

 The wound slowly began to heal. Muscle and skin grew and reattached. The once graying complexion that Steve wore was returning to a healthy pink. His breathing deepened, not short, rapid breaths of dying lungs. Steve's blue eyes stared at Bucky, mouth gaping open. Curious and a bit frantic, Bucky peeled the shirt off Steve's back to see the entry wound. Both holes, once profusely bleeding and killing his best friend now looked like they were weeks healed. Some redness around the sites and fresh skin sealing the holes but still tender. 

 WHAT?!?!

 "Steve…." He did not know what else to say. His oldest friend, his best friend, his brother...he was dying...and Bucky could not save him. It was his worst nightmare come to pass. The very thing he dreaded most. Now though…

 Steve stared back at him wide-eyed before turning his head to look down the alley where Lydia fled. "She healed me….she saved…" He looked back at Bucky. "Who is she?"

 "I'm not sure…"

 "We need to find her."

 Steve started to get up but Bucky pushed him back down. "You were just shot, punk. She said to rest."

 "We can't let her get away! What if more of these mercenaries find her?!"

 "We'll look for her. Wait till the others get here. I'll go with Sam." Bucky held Steve's gaze until he relented, slumping back onto the unforgiving, concrete ground.

 The sounds of the city enveloped the quiet of the alley- car horns, sirens blaring, someone singing loudly the next street over. The two sat there, waiting and thinking. Both of their minds struggling to fully comprehend what just happened but desperate to chase after her.  

 "You just want another kiss, huh?"

 Steve chuckled, rubbing a hand over his chest and wincing. "That was some kiss. It felt like electricity going through my veins."

 Bucky thought of his own quick peck and how it felt like a shock hitting him. "Yeah. That's some dame."

 "Find her, Buck. I don't…" He sighed.. "It felt...no, she felt right."

 All Bucky could do was nod. He prayed she stayed safe until they could find her. Something in his gut told him they needed her. He looked down the alley once more, wondering where she went and who she really was. 

[teaandatale]

Steggy Week Day 7 (Sunday): Free choice

My Theme: Previews & Support

1. Previews: Okay, work has been brutal, the muse hasn’t been kind to me, so I didn’t finish the couple other works I thought I would for Steggy Week. Instead, I’m going to share previews of 5 fics I’ve been working on (new and old), as a amuse bouche of an end to Steggy Week.

2. Support: Then for the rest of today, I will be checking out all the Steggy goodness created this past week and commenting about how brilliant this fandom is, as much as possible, because I know just how much feedback feeds the muse.

If anyone doesn’t have anything finished for today, might I suggest you tease us with your own preview of Steggyness to come :D

Previews of fics in the works below the cut.

1.     Untitled Agent Carter S2 AU

Summary: Steve is found in 1947, while Peggy’s still in Los Angeles.

“Howard what is going on?”

“We’re almost there. I’ll tell you then.”

He’s in some sort of mood, and acting shifty. She eyes him suspiciously as they follow along through several turns into alleys and side streets. She knows the destination three blocks from the building and the second she realizes, Peggy grabs Howard by the collar of his shirt.

“Easy pal!”

“What the hell are we going there for Howard?”

His eyes shift from hers in a rush, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“It seemed like the right place,” he mutters under his breath and then ignores her demanding expression and continues walking.

She’d never avoided this street, but for all her time in New York since the end of the war, she’d never ended up back here.

“You found him,” she whispers like a prayer.

And for Howard to keep this information from her… It was cruel.

“How could you not say anything? How could you not tell me? Me! Of all people Stark!”

“That’s exactly why I had to figure out exactly what it is I found Peggy!”

“And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!”

He bites his lip and then heads to the glass where the observation looked over a transformation of Steve Rogers once upon a time.

“Carter…” Phillips trails off in a soft voice she’s only heard a handful of times in her time with him. “There’s a bit more.”

Howard pulls the screen away from the glass revealing not an abandoned lab, but a whole slew of people and machinery working below them.

“He’s not dead Peg.”

 She’s gone insane. She’s finally gone insane. She’d wondered if it would come. If all the incredible disasters in her life would lead her to a complete loss of reality. And it’s finally happened.

 “He’s alive. Steve Rogers is alive,” Phillips confirms.

“We’ve been trying to wake him. But he’s been frozen so long it’s causing some problems. He’s thoroughly thawed out, so we’re not really sure what the trouble is. There’s not a lot of experience I have to work with here. But I’ll figure it out. I know I will.”

She is no longer interested in anything further that Howard Stark has to say.

Peggy flies out of the observation room, wrenching the way to the stairs open, even as medics and attendants swing their heads away from the body laying in the cot to her stomping on the steps.

  2.     Play Like a Girl

Summary: Peggy recently moved to Brooklyn where she happens to run into Brooklyn’s golden boy Steve Rogers on more occasions than she cares for. Her first real interaction with Steve, a recently retired MLB shortstop, leaves much to be desired. And yet somehow she finds herself helping him coach a girls’ baseball team for the summer.

 A baseball lands with a loud smack against her hardwood floors. Winston lifts his head, looks at her briefly with a tilt of his head before he runs off to chase after the rolling baseball.

            Peggy stands staring dumbfounded at her broken window, the faint sound of screeches coming from outside. After a few moments, she finally comes to her senses, outrage pouring out of her as she starts to stomp towards her front door to chase down the culprit. The second she pulls her front door open, her doorbell sounds simultaneously, and there he is standing in front oh her, Mr. Hometown Hero himself.

            Steve Rogers stands with a sheepish expression. Of course its him. Recently retired Dodgers’ shortstop, the hometown rookie of the year that led the Mets to the World Series during his second season in the major leagues, the attractive dog walker she’d been running into at the park directly across the street from her house.

            “Oh,” is the first thing he says, his eyes widening a bit. “Hi again.”

            He fiddles with his stupid backwards cap and she wants to rip it off his head.

            “Hi again? That’s all you have to say to me after hurling a baseball through my window?!”

            Winston decides this is the time to come bounding in with the stupid baseball in question. He drops it at their feet, more interesting at sniffing at Steve. He bounds up, front paws on Steve’s legs who immediately drops down to scratch at his ears.

            “Winston no! Down!”

            Winston withdraws, albeit reluctantly, looking back at her with that head tilt of confusion. She refuses to let her dog fraternize with this jerk of a jock.

+

“Great job today ladies,” Steve calls out. “Now all of you have a wonderful weekend. Be kind. Have lots of fun. And rest up for more on Monday.”

           “Bye Coach Steve! Bye Peggy!” They shout as they give the dogs last pats.

           “It’s coming along,” she notes. “And they’re having fun.”

           Steve nods. “They’re definitely more focused than I had expected. But then again they are much more mature than I was at their age.”

            “Or now,” she jokes. She regrets it for a moment, realizing that they’re not really friendly enough for that kind of teasing comment.

            But Steve, to her surprise, snorts out a surprised chuckle.

           “Well you’re probably right about that,” he agrees with easily. “Hey, thank you again for the snacks and breaks. Obviously they need more of that.”

            She bites her lip but then it comes out of her anyway.

            “I work from home a couple times during the week. So I’m free a few mornings,” she says. “I could perhaps lend a hand on those mornings.”

            She watches his face brighten but the smile is cautious.

            “You’re always more than welcome, you’ve made this even more fun,” he starts, rocking back on his heels, “but I’m sure you’re very busy. So no pressure. Really.”

            “I am busy,” she agrees, “but hell if I’m not already invested in seeing these girls grown as a team.”

            She thought she’d seen the extent of his happy expression, but the look on her face now transcends even his earlier joy with Rodger. It’s blindingly pure and she swears she feels butterflies kicking through her with a force she cannot reckon.

            Shit…

            Oh shit indeed.

  3.     Of Gold & Something More – Chapter 2 Dreams That You Dare to Dream

Summary: Peggy’s family moves to New York when she’s young. While she’s able to keep up her ballet lessons with the transcontinental move, it’s when her brother starts playing hockey that she gets interest in ice skating. There at the local rink, she meets her first (and only) skating partner.

 Michael takes her hand and helps her with her skates. “How was your lesson?”

            “Wonderful!” she sighs. “I didn’t fall once. I bet I’m the best one in the class.”

           He snorts. “It’s your third lesson Peg. Don’t go dreaming about the Olympics just yet.”

           “Why not?” She plants her hands at her hips. “I can do whatever I want to Michael. Even the Olympics.”

            He laughs and she pouts at him. “Alright you win darling. Now come on I’m starving.”

            Peggy turns back over her shoulder to watch the skaters still on the ice. She watches two boys, one with blond hair, the other with brown chasing each other up and down the middle, gliding with perfect ease. One day she was going to be able to skate so fast it would feel like flying. One of these days.

+

“Lessons are on the other end, Peggy,” the boy named Bucky he says with so wide a grin it makes her a little warm inside.

 “Lessons are boring,” she shoots back. “I can already skate backwards. And I already know how to balance you know since I’m a ballerina.”

His friend stays quiet behind Bucky, smoothing kicked up ice off his pants. She tilted her head at him. She wondered if he was shy. He didn’t seem shy when he was tearing up the ice with Bucky or some of the other hockey boys. But then she thinks back to the boys’ lessons she watched him skate during. The other boys would goof off between exercises, but he seemed to stay focused and quiet.

“Hear that Steve? She’s a ballerina.” The blond boy named Steve nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. She notices that his cheeks are a little pink but she doesn’t know why. “I don’t know about ballet, but I can dance a little too you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

 “Uh huh! I started ice dance lessons with my cousin a couple of months ago.”

“Ice dance?” Her eyes grow wide and the bubbly feeling comes back. “You can dance on the ice? Show me!”

He laughs but it doesn’t make her bristle. He doesn’t seem to be making fun of her. She thinks.

 “I can’t right now. I don’t have a partner.”

 “I’ll be your partner.”

 He gives her his signature grin but shakes his head. “Sorry Peggy you’re too little to be my partner. You and Steve could be partners, he’s not that much taller than you.” She sees Steve turns red and kicks at the ice with his left skate.

  4.     ‘S Wonderful ‘S Marvelous – Untitled Sequel #1

Summary: Steve and Peggy make good on their promise to keep in touch and see each other in person before the end of the year.

 “I don’t snore!”

            Steve hums. “Maybe snore is the wrong word. It’s sort of a mix of a soft snore and a snuffle,” he tells her, his voice gone so soft and tender she feels something tighten in her stomach. “It’s cute. It made it feel like you were right here next to me for a moment.”

           Peggy turns onto her back staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, her free hand running across her bedsheets as if her body’s automatically searching for his.

           “I wish I was,” she whispers back.

            “Soon,” he promises in his whisper. “Time for you to go to sleep for real Peggy.”

            She grunts out her disapproval. “No I’m awake.”

           He chuckles. “It’s late. We’ve been on the phone for hours.”

           She glances over at her alarm clock, her eyes widening at the single digits. Hours indeed.

           “Time has a strange sense of humor then because I swear I just called you.” 

           “And yet time also makes it feel like I haven’t seen in you in months when it was just six days ago.”

            I don’t remember having this before… Just talking. Wanting to share more and more the longer we talk.”

            He hums in response. “It feels special.”

            “It is special.”

           He lets out a long exhale. “I can’t wait to see you.”

            “Me too. It’s soon. Soon. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

            He laughs again. “You got that right. Bedtime Peggy.”

            She hums sleepily. “Good night Steve. I’ll see you soon.”

            “Sleep well Peggy.” His voice is a lullaby and though her whole body aches with missing him, she turns over with a smile and falls back to sleep.

+

Her stomach flutters with butterflies as the train starts to slow into the station. Peggy pulls out her phone and rereads the text she received just a few minutes ago.

 Waiting at the station. I can’t wait to see you.

            She reads it one more time, stomach filling with anticipation. Had it really only been just over three weeks since she’d last seen Steve? It felt like months. And that hunger she had been feeling was finally going to be satisfied. She feels her body buzzing as she collects her luggage and sets off for the platform with the rest of the passengers making their way to their destinations. The station’s lights are a bright glow against the dark winter evening. She’s aware of the chill biting at her exposed skin but she can only think about who she is meeting.

           Once through the station’s lobby, with the parking lot in plain view, there she sees Steve leaning against his truck, his eyes already on her, his face breaking out in such a warm smile that it touches her even from the hundred feet still between them. As soon as the path is clear in front of her, Peggy races towards him.

  5.     Layer on Layer – Chapter 16 Epilogue Part 1

Summary: The one-year anniversary of meeting Peggy looms near. But anniversary celebrations are put on hold when the whole world goes to shit. 

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

            He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

            “Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

            “She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

            He looks up and sees Angie.

            “Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

            Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

            “I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

            “We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

            “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

            Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

            Steve blushed further. “It’s hot but I wanted the breeze and the sunlight filtering in so I turned the air conditioning off.”

            “Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day. You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

            He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

            “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?” She grins. “Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

            Steve hummed, checking his phone.

            “Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

             Something didn’t feel right to Steve. She hadn’t responded in that many hours? She always sent him responses if short ones within an hour or so, even at her busiest.

[doux-amer]

Endgame reaction post! Scroll past if you haven’t blacklisted/Tumblr Saviored my “endgame spoilers” tag because I’m going to get spoilery. Okay first off, I had mixed feelings about Endgame. There were so many things I loved a lot and so many things I absolutely hated. Overall, I think this was a mediocre, sloppy mess of a movie when it shouldn’t and didn’t need to be (you spent that many hours making THIS? Come on); in some ways, it was worse than AoU which I thought was a miserable, bloated “meh” movie, although I can’t put it on the same level because it also did a lot of good things a hell of a lot better. Plus it was more entertaining; those three hours zipped by whereas I thought AoU would never end and suffered through it.

So good and bad! I might not remember some big things because honestly, I’m still trying to process except I don’t want to because that’ll set me off. Big plot stuff first before going into characters:

It was a bold, unexpected move to go after Thanos and kill him so quickly. I didn’t expect that! Neither did I expect a five-year jump. HOLY. FIVE YEARS. Damn. (But you telling me that Citifield was abandoned like that? Russos, Russos, Russos. Let me tell you something. Regardless of what happens, sports must go on. Listen, people still exist and want their entertainment, but hey, Mets represent. At least the support group wasn’t held at Yankee Stadium...imagine Steve, Brooklyn Dodgers fan, voluntarily going to where the Yanks used to play smh. ANYWAY, WOW THIS IS STUPID. LMAO NEXT.)

Didn’t expect him to destroy the stones either, but it made sense although...it didn’t after the Ancient One’s explanation about it affecting timelines.

Seeing the Avengers struggle to move on but be bound together so tightly regardless of location was nice.

The time travel thing was handled so disappointingly although it was SUPER entertaining and made me recall the giddy excitement I had watching The Avengers for the first time imo. Dude, I know fic writers who do a much better job for zero dollars and you got paid big bucks to make this, and I LOVE TIME TRAVEL STUFF DEARLY so this was something I was looking forward to a lot. It was just too loosey goosey and all over the place. Also, I know Steve returned all the Stones to their original timelines, but does that erase their future selves’ actions? Do the timelines that rippled out from those actions cease to exist? I assume so because the Ancient One said they needed to snip off all the alternate branches because their existence would lead to chaos, but at the same time, that makes Steve’s whole journey at the end make no sense whatsoever. But maybe that doesn’t matter because he was changing time through quantum jumps rather than using the Stones? That said, revisiting the past was a lot of fun and was a nostalgic ride; it was nice to see how far they’ve come and to say hello to the characters we started out with and fell in love with in the first place. We get to see Gamora and Nebula with Thanos which we should have seen in GotG 1 and 2, but whatever! We got to see what happened after the Avengers got Loki and the Tesseract under custody!

Seeing all these old familiar faces, many of them who are now gone, was great, but also incredibly distracting. Some of them felt shoehorned in like Rumlow and the gang. It was disconcerting. I would’ve imagined Steve’s first meeting with the Strike team to be after he went into SHIELD (like...why are they even there? The battle’s gone lol).

SEVERELY disappointed that the Big Three didn’t have a bigger fight. I guess they had to nerf Thor because the fight would be over in three seconds considering those three, aside from Wanda, were the only ones to really give Thanos a run for his money (Thor almost killed Thanos, Tony somehow went hand-to-hand in combat with him and actually hurt him too, and Steve was able to stop his fist). Seeing Steve finally wield Mjolnir was cool and I almost cheered out loud, but I also wish we got to see Tony use it because it felt like they were all worthy and united in their fervent desire to stop Thanos and save the world that it didn’t matter who wielded it, you know?

I wish they delved more into legacy, not just because that’s been a big recurrent theme for Tony since IM1, but because it would add depth to the Big Three’s farewells (although it seems like we’ll see Thor in GotG now). They can go their separate ways from the Avengers because they built a team that would live on and because more people showed up to help out (e.g., Strange and the masters, the Guardians, Wakandans, Carol, etc.). We got a bit of that when everyone made their grand entrance, but it would have been something for these three to realize...oh, this is what they’ve been working towards. This was the dream all along. This is the future Tony imagined when restarting the Avengers. This is what they’ll leave behind (and on a personal note, I wish we got to see more of that with Morgan instead of her just saying she wanted cheeseburgers. SHOW us that she’s Tony’s kid (and Pepper’s) through and through).

The callbacks were both good and hamfisted. There were some good ones and some really bad ones. It just felt really fanservice-y in a bad way when it could’ve been tastefully done. It was emotionally manipulative except it failed to manipulate me lmao? Like having Steve and Bucky share their lines from TFA? Meh. The line about cheeseburgers with Morgan and Happy? Cue the eye rolls. They went for cheap shots rather than things that would be more meaningful (LIKE REITERATING THE LEGACY THEME LOL).

I have extremely mixed feelings about the way the Big Three left. I’ll focus on that when I talk about the characters, but I’ll focus on Tony’s funeral right now. Where’s Natasha’s funeral? Where’s Tony’s eulogy? It was such a mind-boggling move to have the funeral be that short. I loved seeing that Tony, the man who had everything and nothing, the man who had no family, have so many people whom he loved and who loved him mourn him. All those people he left behind? The Russos remembering to include Harley and then choosing to end the shot with Fury, the one to bring him into the fold all those years ago because he believed in and cared for Tony from the very beginning? That gutted me. But god!!!! We got two seconds to say goodbye to a character who’s defined this entire era of the MCU and who pretty much is responsible for the MCU being a thing in the first place! I don’t need an extended service or anything, but man...it just was super quick.

Speaking of Tony and death, I loved that Rhodey was the first person to get to Tony because he’s always been that for Tony. He was there for Tony before anyone else, he’s the first person in Tony’s family we’re introduced to in IM1, and he was the one who got Tony when Tony needed him in IM1 and IM2 (found him in the desert and was there when Tony nearly collapsed from palladium poisoning). I loved that Pepper had a moment to reassure Tony and ease him into the afterlife, the way she’s always tried to make things easy for him and to make sure that he knows things will be all right because she’ll make it all right. I loved that Peter had a moment because he is, more than anyone else, Tony’s first true child (okay, Harley was his first ever, but Peter was The One). But I got pissed that none of the Avengers got to be there because the Avengers as an idea and as a family meant the most to Natasha and Tony, and considering the fallout of CA:CW, it would’ve been nice to have that moment where they were there for him. He wasn’t alone. They’re there for him until the end. It genuinely blows my mind that neither Thor nor Steve got to say even one final thing to him. LIKE!!!!! I love Peter, but why did you waste so much time with him! We’ll deal with his grief in FFH ffs! Give that time to Thor and Steve whom we’re also saying goodbye to! This is the last time the trio will be together! AHHHHHHH.

Lowkey don’t know why they wouldn’t just undo the last five years/bring them back right after they killed Thanos other than Tony having a family tbh, but whatever lol. 

The fight at the end was super cool but also stupid lol. But I did like seeing teamwork! I loved seeing the gauntlet being passed around without hesitation even when a lot of people didn’t know each other.

The thing with Nebula’s memory was....so dumb? She’s a different Nebula from a different timeline; they’re two different individuals existing, but idk I guess they tried to explain it as two computers trying to use the same hard/memory drive although really, the better comparison would be two unique computers using the same network in which case...why is there even a problem lmao. It just seemed so convenient, but oh well. 

Okay, you know what? This was super long so I’m going to write about the characters and their relationships in a separate post. This kind of ended up sounding a lot more negative than I expected, but all of the things I mentioned above I liked and disliked in equal measure. It’s just...the ideas were there but weren’t executed well imo.

[until-theend-oftheline]

When They Had Nothing - Part 2: Boys and Their Fathers

Pairing: Stucky (Eventually)

Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Distant father, Character Death, Implied PTSD, Kids arguing a bit.

Word Count: 3200ish

A/N: This is my new Stucky series. It starts with the boys as kids in Brooklyn and follows CAFA but from Bucky’s POV rather than Steve’s. I am sooo excited about this series which I have been working on for about 6 months as it’s written for @cabigbang

Art Inspired by WTHN by: @ischa-posts - thank you so much for taking the time to create art for my series! - Ischa also made the amazing drawing below

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 @emilyevanston and @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off - Thank you so much for all your help!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

MASTERLIST - CABIGBANG MASTERLIST + AO3 LINK

November 2nd, 1930

Over the passing two years, the boys had grown closer. At first, Bucky’s wrestling buddies had made fun of Steve, but Bucky wouldn’t have any of that. He put a solid stop to their remarks and cruel behavior within the first few months. Bucky had never abandoned his old friends, but they had never really become friends with Steve either. They accepted him hanging around just like they accepted that Rebecca did. She on the other hand quickly became fond of Steve, keeping him company whenever Bucky was busy with wrestling or when his other friends dragged him off. Bucky ignored the comments they would make when he excused himself to return to his sister and best friend’s side. All they saw when they saw Steve was a sickly, odd boy that their friend had taken pity on.

What they didn’t understand was that the relationship between the two boys had nothing to do with pity. It was everything but. The two of them seemed to raise each other up and make each other stronger. Steve brought out the righteous, brave side in Bucky that was always there but that he had often hidden away out of fear of getting in trouble with his old man. Granted, Steve’s do right attitude had earned him a few whippings over the years, but he had held his head high through all of them. Somehow Bucky suspected his dad respected him a bit more for it.

Bucky, on the other hand, was able to bring out the slightly more adventurous side in Steve, and even if many of their shenanigans and mischief were done under great protest from Bucky’s younger friend, it always ended with both of them laughing and having a great time. Together they were both at their best, and together they faced everything, including when the stock market crashed and the word they had known started to crumble around them.

Bucky’s family had never been rich, but they had been well off. His dad losing his job when the bank he worked security for closed meant they had to move out of their house and into an apartment building. Still, they weren’t poor. They had his mother’s monthly paychecks, and his dad, a decorated ex us lieutenant, didn’t have trouble finding security jobs to work from time to time. So even if their income wasn’t as high or as stable as it once was, they were still doing better than Steve’s family.

Joseph, Steve’s father, couldn’t hold down a job, and the work at the harbor became further and further in between. Even living in the small apartment they always had and keeping the light and heat on was becoming harder and harder on only a nurse’s paycheck. Bucky always suspected there was more to their troubles than just that judging by the smell of Joseph when he passed him on his way out the door when he was coming home. He had always been drinking. Bucky knew that even if Steve had never told him. He also knew he slapped Sarah around, and there was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that Steve’s slower movements at times didn’t have anything to do with his health.  

Bucky had hated Joseph from the first moment he had laid eyes on him as a five-year-old boy, and that hatred didn’t ease as he grew older and got to know Sarah and Steve better.

Steve didn’t hate. He always chose to see the best in people, even when Bucky was sure there was none. He didn’t push it though. There was nothing Bucky could do but keep his eyes open and be there to catch Steve if he needed him too. Just like he always had and always would.

It was a promise Bucky would live to keep on the evening of November 2nd, 1930. The short November day had long ended, and 13-year-old Bucky was sitting on the living room floor reading when Rebecca’s voice called to his attention.

“Steve’s outside.”

Bucky instantly looked up at his sister, seeing the snow fall outside the window behind her and hoping with everything he had she was wrong. It was freezing outside, and Steve, as small as he was, had grown out of his winter jacket. He had no business being outside in the cold like this. Most people would get a cold while Steve being Steve would most likely end up with pneumonia if he stayed out in weather like this for too long.

“Where?” Bucky dropped his book and jumped from the floor to stand next to his sister sitting in the window case. She pointed, and Bucky’s heart dropped when he saw him. He was sitting against the wall curled into a ball, trying to keep himself warm. A part of Bucky wanted to open the window and yell at him, ask him what the hell he was thinking. He wanted to scold him for being out in the cold in the first place or for not knocking on their door the instant he got there, but a greater part of him was just concerned. Bucky ran across the apartment. He grabbed his jacket from the hallway but didn’t put it on. Instead, he kept it in his hands as he ran outside and along the building until he reached Steve. Without a word, Bucky knelt down, wrapping the jacket around his best friend, rubbing his arms up and down to try and get some warmth into him.

“Let’s get you inside punk.”

Bucky gently guided Steve, who still hadn’t looked up at him, onto his feet. Steve didn’t have to meet his eyes for Bucky to see the wince of pain his movement caused him. He was hurt but still trying his best for Bucky not to see. A silent war raised inside Bucky. He wanted to let go of his friend and run back to his house, shove Joseph’s drunk ass against the wall, and beat the crap out of him until he knew what it felt like.

It wasn’t what Steve wanted. Hell, Steve didn’t even want Bucky to know what his dad was really like, otherwise he would have told him already. So instead, Bucky rained in his anger and wrapped his arm around Steve leading him towards the door.

“You’re staying here tonight,” Bucky promised him, knowing that it would take some convincing with his mom, given Steve had come here on his own so late in the evening, but he also knew she trusted Bucky’s judgment when it came to the Rogers.

His family liked Steve and Sarah. They always did whatever they could to help them out with food or clothes. They never handed them money though. Bucky suspected it had more to do with them knowing those would end up in the hands of a bootlegger than it was them not being able to accept the handout.

It hadn’t taken Bucky as much convincing as he thought it would for his mom to call Steve’s mom at the hospital to let her know her son was spending the night at their house. Bucky had however been convinced Steve would need a trip to the hospital himself after George had handed the frail boy the brandy glass and told him to drink. Steve had been coughing and Bucky banging his back with a flat hand before rubbing gentle circles while Winifred had scolded her husband loudly for his stupidity.

After having gotten a bit of warm soup into Steve, with all the Barnes fussing around him for the better part of an hour,  the apartment had gone quiet. Rebecca had been dragged to her own room by their mother while Bucky had grabbed the sofa cushions and arranged them on the floor next to his bed for Steve to sleep on.

The boys weren’t sleeping though. They were arguing about who was going to the baseball World Series and if the Dodgers were actually going to win that season. The conversation took a turn when Bucky asked Steve if he ever thought about moving away from Brooklyn. While Steve didn’t want to leave his home for good, he did dream with Bucky about places in the world they would wanna see. Like two explorers, they laughed and mapped out the adventurous they would go on together when they grew up.

Eventually, they both quieted down, but neither of them seemed to be able to sleep, so Bucky turned to his side looking down at Steve. He felt a pain to his heart when he thought about Steve suffering outside in the cold instead of knocking on their door. Bucky hated there was a part of Steve’s life that he felt the need to keep secret from him. They were best friends, and there shouldn’t be anything that Steve couldn’t talk to him about.

“Steve, why did you come here tonight?” Bucky asked and Steve froze staring into the ceiling without saying a word. Most other days Bucky would have backed off, but the image of Steve sitting frozen against the wall of the apartment building haunted him. Without giving it a second thought, Bucky slid off the bed and down next to his friend. Steve looked up at him in surprise which quickly turned into horror when Bucky started tugging at his shirt.

“What are you doing? Stop!” Steve fought back but was no match for Bucky’s strength. It wasn’t much of a struggle before Bucky managed to lift up Steve’s shirt to reveal the rainbow of bruises covering his chest and ribcage. The second Bucky saw, he let go of Steve, letting him pull down his shirt and scatter backward against the wall. Steve pulled his legs up under him, wrapping his arms around his knees, staring at Bucky with a look of utter betrayal on his face, and instantly Bucky regretted his actions.

“Steve, I’m sorry pal. I… I know he beats you and your mom okay? I know he drinks,” Bucky tried to explain himself. He couldn’t look into the painfilled blue eyes any longer, so he hung his head. “I just wanted to see how bad it was. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” Bucky pleaded with Steve without looking at him but meaning every single word. He had been frustrated with the secrets Steve had been keeping from him, but he had never meant to hurt him or betray his trust.

“I just needed to get out of there,” Steve sniffled, and Bucky looked up.

The betrayal was gone from his face and left was only pain. Bucky didn’t hesitate as he scurried towards his best friend, wrapping his arms around him, embracing him as tightly as he dared in fear of hurting him. It didn’t take long for Steve to return the hug, and the boys stayed quietly in each other’s arms, allowing the safety and reassurance that the two of them were okay wash over them. When they released each other, Bucky didn’t crawl back into bed. He stayed on the cushions on the floor next to Steve, promising him he would always have a place to stay whenever he needed it. He stayed awake listening to Steve’s breathing as he fell asleep next to him. He told himself he didn’t move back to the bed because he wanted to make sure Steve was alright. He wanted to keep him safe through the night, which was the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth. He needed to be close to his friend just as much as Steve needed to be close to him. They were too old to sleep so tightly against each other, but it didn’t feel wrong to either of them and when Bucky finally fell asleep, he felt more at ease with himself than he had in a long time.

December 20th, 1931

Bucky’s room had become Steve’s hideout after that. He never left his place if his mom was home. He took the beatings to spare her, but whenever she was working evenings and nights, Steve was in Bucky’s room, hiding from the wrath of his drunken father. Over a year passed like that, and the two boys friendship grew stronger.

Bucky never questioned or pushed Steve again, but once in a while, he opened up to his best friend anyway. He told him about the times he had hidden in the back of the closet when his dad roamed the house with a baseball bat. He told Bucky of the times he had stepped between his parents to save his mother. With every story he heard, Bucky hated Joseph a little more. The hate within him built and built. So much so that the day the news of Joseph’s early demise reached the Barnes household, Bucky didn’t grieve. He smiled, relieved and happy that the bully had gotten what he had coming. Fallen into the East River and succumbing to hyperthermia seemed like a just end in Bucky’s eyes. He knew it was wrong, but picturing Joseph die a slow painful death brought him immense satisfaction. Bucky was a kid. He could protect Steve against the bullies at school, but he had never been able to protect him against the one at Steve’s own house. Knowing Steve would never suffer at the hands of his father again eased Bucky’s mind. Which was the reason Bucky was a little confused to see Steve and Sarah’s tears at the funeral a few days later. How could they grieve for someone that had only ever caused them harm? Bucky didn’t push the matter though. He stayed by Steve’s side. Close enough to touch without actually touching.

That entire day Steve didn’t leave Sarah’s side. He stayed close to his mom, making sure she had everything she needed, while Bucky stayed were Steve could always see him. Their eyes met every now and again. With every encouraging nod and smile Bucky mustered to send Steve, he got a relieved grateful one in return.

Even after everyone else had left and Steve helped his mom to bed, Bucky stayed that day. He knew that Steve was holding himself together. He was being strong for his mom and for everyone around him, but Bucky also wanted him to know that he didn’t have to be. Steve didn’t have to hold back a single emotion when it was just the two of them. He didn’t care if Steve wanted to grieve the man that Bucky hated. He just wanted to be there for him and for Steve to know he didn’t have to be the strong one for a little while.

No words were uttered between the two boys as Bucky followed Steve out the door, sitting down next to him on the front stairs. He just took the two sodas Steve handed him. Bucky opened them both, handing one back to Steve without a word. He wanted to ask a million questions, but he didn’t. He just waited for Steve to be ready to speak on his own accord.

“He wasn’t always like that,” Steve said quietly. “Not according to mom anyway. I don’t remember anything else.”

Bucky’s eyes rested on Steve as he moved a little closer, letting Steve feel him against his side. Bucky didn’t ask. He just waited. Steve wanted to talk to him, but he needed a minute. Bucky knew that as much as Steve always saw the good in people, trusting didn’t always come easy. Bucky was his only friend, and truthfully, Steve was Bucky’s only friend too. Yes, he surrounded himself with a lot of boys at school. Girls were starting to take an interest, which was very much returned, but Steve was different. He knew Bucky in a way that no one else did. Steve knew what Bucky was thinking even before he opened his mouth. No one else understood him or even tried to understand him the way that Steve always seemed to. Honestly, Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to anyway.

“Mom said he smiled a lot before the war. He took her dancing and made her laugh. He never hurt anyone, especially not her.” Steve didn’t look at Bucky. He just stared down at the bottle in his hands. “He lost everyone in the war. He saw things I guess…”

“My dad went to war to Steve. He’s not exactly easy to live with, but he never broke my bones,” Bucky spoke in a low voice.

He did his best to mask his disdain for the dead man, but it was hard after having seen the array of colors on Steve’s body or having supported him when he walked around on a broken leg. Steve was always sick. He was frail. The man that was supposed to look out for him had been the one that had done him the most harm while Bucky had been powerless to do anything about it. He could protect Steve from the bullies their own age or even older, but how was he supposed to have kept him safe from a parent that decided Steve and Sarah were as good a punching bag as any?

“I know Buck. I’m not saying that what he did isn’t on him. I’m just saying that there is a reason for it,” Steve’s voice was more firm now, and he looked up, meeting Bucky’s eyes. They looked at each other for a while, before Bucky nodded, accepting that maybe war had done something to Joseph neither of the boys could understand.

Bucky took a gulp of the soda, staring out into the cool afternoon air, wondering what his father might have been like before the war. George wasn’t abusive like Joseph. He didn’t drink, but he was dominant and bossy. It was his rules all the time and no matter what Bucky did, he never felt as if it was good enough in the eyes of his father.

“I wonder how my dad was before the war?” Bucky muttered, feeling guilty the moment the words had left his lips. He should be comforting Steve right now, and no matter how difficult George was, it was nothing compared to the things Joseph had done to Steve.

Steve didn’t judge Bucky though. Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t even ask what he meant, because despite Bucky not talking about how he felt pressured by his father, Steve seemed to know. Instead of saying anything, Steve just reached out, taking Bucky’s hand, giving it a squeeze, causing Bucky to look down at their hands. This should feel weird. They were most certainly too old for this kind of thing, and they were guys, not chicks. Guys weren’t supposed to hold hands like that, but Steve didn’t seem to care. The warmth rushing from their joined hands throughout Bucky’s body, causing his heart to beat a little faster as he squeezed Steve’s hand back.

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Stucky Tag Team

@emilyevanston @feelmyroarrrr @smoothdogsgirl @roxyspearing @mizzzpink @blacktithe7 @mizzezm @mysupernaturalfics @becs-bunker @docharleythegeekqueen @royallyslow @cd1242 @scarlettsoldier @danijimenezv @hellaqueerangelofthelord @marvelismylifffe @vvishous @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @sebsunshinestan

[thethotwithoutfear]

Haven: Chapter 3

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 3,512

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The days went by in a flash. They’d decided to walk to and from the hardware store just a couple of block over, it was closer by way of Steve’s apartment so meeting there had been a no brainer. Going early in the morning had been ideal as well, (y/n) had been sure to be conscious and prioritize Steve’s sense of privacy. He had insisted that carrying a couple of small beams of lumber wouldn’t be a problem for him, and subjecting her to New York City traffic would be downright cruel if she’d driven them there.

 Steve had also confessed that he’d wanted to walk for selfish reasons, the strolls they’d taken together were some of the most tranquil moments he’d had in years and he would like more of them if it was ok with her. The honesty of Steve’s statement had made her smile and a soft heat rush to her cheeks, she was glad he couldn’t see the bashful look on her face when they’d discussed it over the phone.

The morning of (Y/n) found herself as planned clutching on to a piece of paper with Steve’s address written on it in neat cursive letters. She’d already put it in her phone, but something about the messy but still delicate looking scrawl of his handwriting calmed her nerves. She was prone to getting lost; she glanced nervously at the address and the numbers on the building just one more time to be sure she’d gotten it right. She rang the buzzer to Steve’s apartment when she’d finally felt secure enough that she was in the right place.

Steve’s deep voice came rumbling through the intercom a few moments later to disrupt her antsy thoughts: “Hey (y/n)! Let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down in a few!” She gave him a simple “Alright!” in reply. Waiting on the old stairs of Steve’s brownstone, she decided to pass the time counting windows on the buildings across the street. She’d gotten to 25 when Steve finally made it outside the doors of his building.

It was obvious he was trying to not be recognized, she really didn’t blame him. Being constantly bombarded by strangers had to get a little annoying, even for someone as kind and courteous as Steve. He wore a navy Brooklyn Dodgers cap and a pair of sunglasses so dark she wondered if he could even see through them. She always found it a bit silly when people tried to go unnoticed that way, it only drew attention to be quite honest.

Her train of thought was lost when her eyes fell on the matching blue henley that clung to every rippling bulge in Steve’s massive arms and torso; the well fitted black pants which accentuated the impossible shape of his waist to broad shoulder ratio practically had her head swimming. She’d always found him handsome, it was a known fact that Steve Rogers was undeniably attractive, it was like saying the sky was blue. But the sight in front of her had stirred in much different feelings, ones she really didn’t need to be dealing with. A simmering heat crept up her body and got stuck in her throat, a sudden and startlingly dryness taking hold there. And to make matters much more embarrassing it resulted in her succumbing to a small fit of coughing when she’d tried to take in a deep breath of air to talk. Steve quirked an eyebrow in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to face her, a worried frown appearing on his lips and an unbelievably warm hand placed on her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah...Yeah I’m fine! I’m good! Throat was just a little...dry I guess. Let’s get moving shall we?!” she said, voice much too loud and a little too high to sound anywhere near convincingly okay. The absence of Steve’s hand as it fell from her shoulder was like temperature shock but thankfully he didn’t pry further. She cleared her throat one more time as a means to compose herself as they made their way down the street to their destination. Steve following behind in a small mist of confusion.

------

The walk was pleasant enough, the sun was casting a bright glow between the early morning clouds. It was a brightness the likes Steve was becoming used to in (y/n)’s company; it was like sunshine followed her around. He appreciated the comfortable silence that had fallen between them through the halfway point of their journey, the accompanying sound of footsteps around them creating a lulling buzz, but part of him wanted to know more. Maybe it was the growing fearlessness to connect with another person outside of “work” but Steve realized he didn’t know much about (y/n), hell, he knew far more about the genus of plants than he did her now.

So he mustered up the courage to pry just a little. “(Y/n) where’d you even learn all this stuff? There’s not very much gardening around Brooklyn, let alone the city. Did you grow up here?” he said. A small grin began to grow on her face, a memory was passing through her mind he guessed, a happy one.

“My grandmother. I grew up just outside the city, but she grew up around here. When she got married she moved out there in the suburbs of sorts, raised her kids and that’s where most of us stayed. But grandma learned to garden from her own mother, they were from a culture of agriculture I guess. She taught me everything she knew growing up, my father didn’t really care to pick up on what she’d learned, so when I was born she practically raised me out in the garden while my parents worked.” she said, a distant but soft look in her eyes.

“She taught you well if the garden is anything to go by,” he replied, giving her one of those crooked smirks that he was starting to notice made her pulse run a little faster (he could practically hear it) and he’d be sure to do it more often,“She must be proud of what you managed to build with what you learned from her too. I can only imagine watching the care you put into someone blossom like that is a great source of pride.”

“Thank you Steve, the success of the garden I owe to the community coming together to learn and grow alongside the plants and each other,” she said, bowing her head in timidity at the compliment, “but I’m sure she would have been proud. She was however, incredibly happy that I decided to move to Brooklyn after graduation. It’s a shame she never got to pay the garden a visit before…she died. But, she’s there, I’m so sure of it!”

“I'm sorry...about her passing. I didn't mean to-” Steve had begun, but was quickly cut off as (y/n) stopped in her tracks and faced him.

“It's ok Steve. You didn't know. It hurt for a while, but she gave me so much more to hold on to. The garden, it's what keeps her with me. Thinking about her is bittersweet, but I’d rather remember than ever forget her” she said. The flicker of memories was in her eyes again, a grin growing on her face only to be accompanied by watering eyes.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to grasp her hand, squeezing it gently in comfort. He would have hugged her, held her tightly in his kindness, but even Steve knew a boundary was still in place, one he'd needed to respect. She looked up at him and sniffled, a small teary giggle springing forth as she wiped her eyes.

“This is supposed to be a fun field trip to the store! No more crying! God I'm sorry!” she laughed, letting go of his hand and giving his bicep a small punch in appreciation, it felt like hitting a concrete wall. Steve looked down at her, a slightly worried but kind frown directed at her. He lifted the sunglasses off his face, a courtesy to the words he would say next:

“(Y/n), I just want you to know that...you’ve done so much for me, more than you realize. There's no need for apology, you have a right to confide or rely on me the way I have come to with you. It wouldn't be fair to continue this...” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “...in a one sided way would it? I want us to be friends, you make me feel content in a way I've missed for a very long time. I want us to be good AND honest friends...if that's ok with you?” he said. She looked at him slightly startled, her face a mix of things Steve couldn't quite read, until a blindingly broad smile was beaming up at him.

“You're right,” she nodded, “Although I already thought we were friends Steve! But I'd love to be your friend. How could I not be friends with the nicest man on earth?!”

The two of them couldn't stop smiling at the other, it was if the world had stilled itself for just a moment. Steve had felt that only a few times in his life, the shift of a puzzle piece being set in place. The most recent had been on the day he took his first step in the garden and met her. The woman in front of him was his friend now, his actual friend who didn’t have to part of his shared world of pain and duty just to make a connection. It was a great blessing, one which Steve told himself he would not fear to sustain as selfish as it could be.

---------

They’d made it to the hardware store in no time after that. The rest of the trip there had been woven with Steve’s strolling down memory lane. He’d recounted when buildings hosted the ghosts of places he’d frequented as a child and ones where he'd gotten the shit kicked out of him to both their amusement. The bittersweet look of nostalgia flooded his face and it made (y/n)'s heart ache with both fondness and sadness for him.

Feeling out of place in a world you used to call home must have been such a daunting and lonely feeling, but she held onto hope for Steve. As much as others seemed to persist on labeling him as “ the man out of time ”, she had come to have the great privilege to appreciate that Steve Rogers was an incredible survivor. As out of place he might of seemed sometimes, Steve was also intelligent, resourceful, kind, adaptable, and empathetic enough to start to survive in his new realities.

She admired him for it; it took a lot of inner strength and courage to learn to navigate not only the changing currents he once knew how to tread, but to also learn to navigate the complete unknowns which being in his line of “work” threw at him instead. Others might've run, hid away at a change of reality such as that, but he felt a sense of duty to continue to help keep others safe. Steve Rogers was truly a man worth admiring and she wished so desperately that others could get to know the absolute gem of a human being she was getting to. She smiled to herself as they walked into the store, relishing in the privilege of being called Steve Rogers’, not Captain America’s, friend.

A boisterous accent heavy voice greeted them instantly: “(Y/N)!!! GOOD TO SEE YAH!! WHAT’LL IT- HOLY SMOKES IS THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA?!” Her eyes shot to Steve, who’s neck began to flush red, probably in slight disappointment at being recognized, sliding the sunglasses off his face in defeat; there was no use hiding now. She placed a gentle hand on Steve’s arm in assurance that he’d be ok here, the hardware small store seemed to be vacant with exception of the two of them and the owner.

“Hiya Rudy,” she replied eyes rolling with a knowing smile, “Rudy this is Steve Rogers, Steve this is Rudy Rodriguez. He’s my go to guy for all my gardening needs.” Rudy came out from behind his counter in a hurry, giant smile plastered to his face as he stretched out a wrinkled but strong hand for Steve to shake.

He was a shorter man, around what one could guess was his 70’s, clothed in the plaid flannel and carpenter’s pants one would assume a guy who runs a hardware store would wear. He had a thick stark white mustache that matched a lush head of white hair which contrasted with his beautiful dark brown skin. He also had the friendliest smiling eyes in all of Brooklyn and Steve felt calmer as he bid Rudy a hello and a hand shake.

“Wow, if I woulda known Captain America was payin’ me a visit I woulda’ cleaned up a little better today!” he chuckled, rubbing at the light stubble on his cheeks with his free hand, the other still gripping Steve’s.

“Please, call me Steve. It’s not problem, you should see me in the morning” he replied with a smile. (Y/n) noticed the mask starting to creep its way back on to Steve’s face. It wasn’t the cold professional one, no this one was more so the one he probably put on for everyday encounters. The wall in his eyes was rising a little, a guarded courteousness and accommodation beginning to take over there. But then she chuckled, Steve giving her a glance of amusement as she noticed Rudy had not yet let go of Steve’s hand, an awestruck smile on his face.

(Y/n) cleared her throat, “Uh, Rudy I need some supplies. Me and Steve here are building a raised flower bed for the garden” she said, hoping Rudy would snap out of his starstruck daze.

He finally stopped staring at Steve, dropping his hand and looking at (y/n) with an apologetic but happy smile. “Of course, of course! My apologies, it’s just not everyday you get Captain America waltzin’ to your store yah know? What’daya need, mija?” he said.

“The usual. I wanna walk around and get the smaller stuff myself, just need my standard 2x4 beams and a couple more of them custom cut for the ends, you know the drill” she said with a wink at the old man.

“You gonna need me to get one of the boys to put them in the car when I’m done cuttin’? When one of them gets here… ” replied Rudy with a grumble.

“Oh no, Steve here’s gonna haul them off himself” she said, elbowing Steve lightly in the side with an incredulously goofy look on her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe he could carry the lumber a couple of blocks with no effort, she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of it until she saw it. Rudy gave a whistle of disbelief, it got a chuckle out of her, and that charming scarlett tell of Steve’s came back.

“Best come with me son. (Y/n) knows her way round here, plus I’m gonna need you to get a couple of them down for me out in back. I usually have my boys around here to help but they’re running late as always” the old man said with a comical frown of annoyance, and a wink for Steve. He turned and scurried off leaving Steve with no choice but to follow, giving (y/n) a quick look and a shrug of acceptance. She giggled at the idea of someone probably younger than Steve referring to him as “son” and began her search for the items she needed. She hoped Rudy wouldn’t pester Steve too much about his being Captain America, she adored the old man but he could be incredibly nosey.

She was reaching for the final item on her list, a box of galvanized screws, when Steve suddenly showed up at the end of the aisle, watching as she serenely looked for the screws,  never having made a single noise. She jumped when she finally turned in the aisle, becoming aware of his presence and dropping the box as she crashed face first into his more than firm chest. Luckily, Steve caught the box before they could hit the floor, screws rattling as they landed in his large palm.

She laughed in mild annoyance, “Jesus Steve! How long have you been standing there?!” He gave a deep chuckle that made her knees wobble a little.

“Just a couple of seconds! Here I thought you’d need this, yah know cause of earlier?” he said, handing her a bottle of water she hadn’t noticed him holding. She felt her face grow white hot as she looked at it before taking it from him. She could have sworn steam might seep from her ears as she dwelled on the embarrassment of the real cause of her coughing fit, but also because the absolute charm of such a sweet gesture.

“Oh god, uuuuuh thanks,” she said with a small nervous laugh, throat tightening again, “Are you and, umm, Rudy done?”

Steve smiled widely, “Yeah, he’s a character that Rudy. He was telling me about a couple of places that are still open from ‘my time’. Real nice of him actually.” There was a lightness there again, Steve probably having grown comfortable with him, it was hard not to be charmed by the stories and the stellar energy of Rudy Rodriguez. It was hard not to fall in love with Rudy's ever present smile either.

“Maybe we can check them out someday, when you’re free of course,” she said, feeling a tad shy, fingers fidgeting with the bottle cap before she took a quick sip of water. Steve’s smile grew much wider than she’d ever seen it, his eyes practically sparkling. She was absolutely dazzled.

“I’d love that,” he said, “Should we go pay for that and head back now?” Pointing at the basket of supplies looped on her arm with a nod of his head.

She shook her head in realization, had she been staring? God she’d been staring. “Yeah, yeah. We should do that” she said. She could’ve sworn she heard a low rumbling chuckle as she passed Steve on her way to the counter.

He paid for their things, he insisted on it actually, “They’re my flowers after all!” he said. Rudy called Steve a gentleman and said he’d hoped to see more of his favorite new customer around. She rolled her eyes at that, retorting with a simple “ Hey! I thought I was your favorite customer!? ”

They laughed until Steve with little to no effort lifted the tied together beams of lumber that had been leaning against the counter and rested them on his shoulder; it was scarily effortless, as if he was picking up something as light as a feather.

Rudy looked flabbergasted. Sure, Steve had helped him take down the lumber from a shelf on the wall in the backroom but seeing him lift all of them over his head had been something else. And (y/n) had gone instantly breathless, the flexing of Steve’s biceps and chest as he effortlessly lifted and curled his arm behind the planks of wood like delicate little figures was truly a sight.

Steve gave her a lopsided and devilish smirk, a simple wordless I told you so . It made

her whole body catch fire in one quick sweep. She reluctantly looked down at the floor in a sense of overwhelming bashfulness.

“ Ok so he's really that strong ”, she thought to herself. The thought of how easily he could probably pick her up crossed her mind, hands suddenly and unconsciously opening the bottle of water in her hand. She took a quick gulp. God what was her deal?

“It was a pleasure meeting you today Rudy. We should really be on our way” said Steve with a chuckle. He used his free hand to shake Rudy's again.

“Yeah, I’ll ah....I'll see you soon Rudy. I gotta put in an order of fertilizer n...next week.” she said, keeping her mind on the task at hand.

“Good! Have fun building that flower bed yah lovebirds ” he yelled, as they exited the store.

Their eyes went wide, shooting Rudy a look and gaping like fish as they waited for one or the other to say something to the contrary.

“It’s not like that Rudy!” (y/n) finally managed to shout back as the door she'd held open for Steve began to close. Rudy’s laughter and the sweet jingle of the doorbell seemed to mockingly seep their way out of the closing gap in the door, Steve’s face flushed red, a mortified look on (y/n)’s face as they turned to walk. Neither one said very much as they began walking back to the garden, the air between them a little awkward and dense with unspoken thought.

But unbeknownst to each other the feeling of a little flicker of something began to bloom the center of their chests from Rudy’s words….

[rtirman-blog]

11        The Dodgers, Boy’s                   Club, and Santa

I suppose, for me, living on Martense St. it was a time in my life that I have a score of memories. Perhaps that part of my brain was maturing to a point that it was easier to remember a wider range of instances. What I mean is that usually remembering things that are vivid is easy, but to remember ordinary things is harder. Maybe from eight and a half to ten years old, my life was filled with more vivid moments. Who knows…

 Martense Street goes east from its start on Flatbush Avenue.  The first cross north-south cross street is Bedford Avenue. That should be very familiar to Brooklyn Dodger fans. Up to when they abandoned Brooklyn, towering home runs would fly over the right field wall onto Bedford Avenue.

It was no more than a ten block walk up Bedford to get to Ebbets Field, the baseball stadium of the Dodgers. As part of the War effort, you could get free admission to lots of Dodger games by bringing 50 pounds of newspaper to Ebbets field.  

 The basements or cellars of every apartment house in our neighborhood, like plenty of other neighborhoods in Brooklyn, were deluged by kids with wagons picking up every thrown out newspaper in existence. To Ebbetts Field we’d go to see the likes of Dixie Walker, Mickey Owen, Whitlow Wyatt, Eddie Stanky, Eddie Miksis, Leo Durocher, Augie Galan et. al.  These were the guys who were playing when I went to my first Dodger game.  Just a quick story about Augie Galan. He played center field. Daddy, my brothers, and I were in the center field bleachers one night when Galan let a ball go over his head. Daddy thought he was bush league. Years later, I met Carl Erskine, a super Dodger pitcher in the 50’s.

I asked Erskine if he knew Augie Galan. A big smile came to Erskine’s face as he told me he roomed with Augie.  He went on, “Augie was a great guy, and a good ballplayer.”  Daddy would take issue with the “good ballplayer part”.

 I do not take lightly that I met Carl Erskine, or as Brooklynites would say, “Oisk”

He was a Dodger Great! Years later, when I met him in his home town of Anderson, Indiana, he was gracious and welcoming. He gave me personally signed copies of his books, “Tales From the Dodger Dugout”.  He also signed his name as “OISK” in one of the books.  One thing Carl Erskine cannot experience is to know what a thrill and privilege it is to meet Carl Erskine.

 An interesting thing about living on Martense Street, and being so close to Ebbets Field, is that we never played hard-ball. Our “baseball” street games were limited to stickball, slap ball, punch ball, and fast pitching.  Hardball and softball required a sand-lot with no buildings near it. Otherwise, plenty of windows would get broken. So, even in big schoolyards, stickball was the big game.  A hollow, rubber, high-bounce ball would be used, and broomstick handles were used for bats.  There were no balls and strikes, and the pitched ball must go over home plate in one bounce. The rest was exactly like a hardball or softball game. However, that meant there needed to be plenty of players.  Fast pitching or slap ball were the street ball games of choice. Either could be played with one guy on each side. We played lots of other games: kick-the-can, ring-a-leevio, Johnny-on-the-pony, tag, Chinese handball, I Declare War On, box ball, red light, et al.  All of this speaks to how I spent my time.

 Naturally, going to school took a good portion of my days.  I attended P.S.246. In Third Grade, I had one of my favorite teachers, ever! Mrs. Cohen was fun, and I learned a lot. I loved going to school during that year. Funny thing, I don’t remember

playing hooky in 3rd grade. Actually, in First Grade at P.S. 181 may have been the last time. Another thing I don’t remember is Fourth Grade. Nothing! Not a single piece of memory!  My teacher? My friends? Wait! I do remember the door to the room, or at least where it was located. I now wonder what in the world was going on in my life for me to lose or block out a year of my schooling. I know for sure things were happening in my life…but maybe nothing at school.

 Just south of Church Avenue on the east side of Bedford Ave stood the Flatbush Boy’s Club. Much of our time was spent at the Boy’s Club.  Two things, at this moment, stand out in my mind regarding the Boy’s Club. The Golden Gloves and Santa Claus.

 Today, I don’t keep track of the Boxing World.  But in the 1940’s, Joe Lewis was the Heavy Weight Champion of the World.  We listened to every fight he was in.  I was a big fan.  I cried the night he lost to Jersey Joe Walcott.  So, boxing was big in Brooklyn.  The Bengal Bouts were huge!  Many a world champion, in all the different weight classes, were once Bengal Bout champions. Believe it or not, scrawny little me competed in the first bout of the1945 Bengal Bouts.  There is a qualifier here. My rival in the ring and I were 9 years old.  Our bout, a preliminary bout, was strictly for entertainment purposes. However, for my rival (I can’t remember his name) and me, it was serious business.  I had never before been in a boxing ring, and never before been in front of such a huge crowd- the place was packed!

 To prepare us for the fight, we were given a few boxing lessons.  I was coached to keep my right arm and jab with my left. I had the old 1-2 down pat. For three 1.5 minute rounds we pounded each other.  I had trouble executing the old 1-2 throughout the entire three rounds.  My boxing shorts were way too big, and every time I’d try to put my right arm up, my shorts would start to fall down.  I think I fought the entire bout with one hand trying to hit the other kid, and the other hand holding up my shorts. I’d hear shouts, “Go Richie!”…and…“keep your pants on!”  Had I not had the difficulty of using my right hand to save me from embarrassment, I probably would have knocked that kid to the canvas, flat!   Due to the size-of- my- shorts mishap, I was sure the other kid got the best of me.  However, the judges ruled it a draw. I must have gotten some punches in I wasn’t aware of. The fight must have been great. We got a standing ovation!  

 The second thing I remember about the Flatbush Boy’s Club was monumental. The guy who managed the gym, I think we called him Ace, had submitted my name to be one of two boys to travel to Canada to bring Santa Claus back for all the kids in New York City.

The Herald Tribune, one of New York’s finest newspapers, sponsored this adventure through their Fresh Air Fund. The other kid, who was to travel with me, was ten years-old and I was nine.  It had to be late November or early December of 1945.  

 We were taken by car to LaGuardia Airport.  When we got there, there were throngs of people there to wish us well.  We were interviewed by the Press.  Probably, the Press was the Herald Tribune reporters and photographers. The Herald Tribune looked like the New York Times.  In my mind they were the classy newspapers. The other newspapers I was used to seeing, especially at Church and Flatbush, was The News and the Mirror.  But this was a Tribune event for us kids.

Before we got on the plane, we were interviewed.  They ask me if I was afraid to get sick when flying.  I told them, I would not get sick because I wasn’t allergic to flying.

At that time, the term allergy was rather new to the world.  I think because my uncles were doctors, I knew about them.  Our interviews took up two whole columns of the next day’s paper.  We then boarded a two engine passenger plane owned by Colonial Airlines. Naturally, flying up to Montreal, Canada was about the most nauseous experience of my life. I vomited and vomited until nothing would come out.  I wonder if I was allergic to flying.

 When we arrived in Montreal, we were met by Mrs. Rogers Reid, the owner of the Tribune.  We were to stay at her home overnight, then meet Santa at the airport, to fly home the next day.  When we got to her house, she showed us around.  The other kid and I were to sleep in the same bed. That scared me. I wet the bed, and I didn’t want to admit it to anyone. My plan was to not drink soda or water after dinner so I wouldn’t have to go.  I knew there was no guarantee there would be a dry bed in the morning.

 Before we went to bed that night, Mrs. Reid told us we could order whatever we want for breakfast. I couldn’t believe that. Today, I have no idea what either of us ordered. I’m certain there were plenty of times, while shopping for groceries, my mother would say, “What do you boys want for breakfast?”  I never looked at that as my mother telling us we may order our own breakfast.

 That night, after we got tucked in, I started to tell scary things to my companion.  I would go- “Oh, what’s that?; I thought I saw a skeleton; Did you hear that?… I was scaring myself!  Pretty soon, however, the other boy got real scared and made a spooky noise. Mrs. Reid came in and separated us. My partner was taken out of the room, and they made a bed for him on a couch in the hallway. I quickly fell asleep.

 The next morning, I awoke to a dry bed.  I did not wet the bed!  But guess who did?

When I went out of the room into the hallway, I could see all the couch cushions standing on their side to dry off.  That made things even better for me.

 We had breakfast, and left for the airport to meet Santa. He was there, ready to fly back to New York. I was suspicious that he was a fraud.  However, he knew our names, and he let me pull his beard.  Wow, I almost pulled his head off.  I was certain we had the real Santa.  Guess what? I did not get air sickness on the way home.

There was a big crowd of people cheering as we got off the plane.  I felt like a hero.

 No one from my family was at the airport.  Oh, well. I’ll see them when I get home.

As I walked into the front door, I yelled, “hello. It’s me, your hero, I’m home!  A big disappointment for me- no one was home.

[queercapwriting]

Imagine Maggie as a softball coach, teaching kids how to throw, how to catch, pushing them to improve their skills, taking the team out for pizza after games, making sure that they remember winning's great, but not the most important thing, listening to problems when necessary, and basically being the coach you still talk about after you've grown up. All the kids insist on vetting Alex after she shows up at one of their practices, because they have to make sure she's awesome enough for Maggie.

It’s not like she’s swimming in free time, but she can’tresist the kids.

The kids with the big eyes and uncoordinated runs, who wantto play softball but don’t want to be separated along gender lines from theirfriends; who don’t want to be chewed out by people three times their age formissing a catch; who want to be part of something, but don’t want to go throughthe ritualistic humiliation that is most organized sports to get it.

So every Saturday, without fail, her work phone is off. Hercaptain knows; her captain approves.

I think he might be… you know… in your community, hetells her out of the side of his mouth one day about his nine year old son, andshe immediately takes the boy onto the team.

Every Saturday, she pulls her ponytail through the back of abeat up Brooklyn Dodgers cap, and trades in her boots for cleats, and slingstwo bags more than half her height over her back, full of bats and balls andmitts and caps and water bottles and other assorted treats for the horde ofnine year olds who stream onto the field she’s reserved just for them invarying states of readiness, varying states of dress (sometimes in skirts,sometimes in older sibling’s baseball jerseys, once – memorably – in a rabbitonesie because it’s Purim, okay, and who says rabbits can’t play softball?),varying states of excitement to get away from their parents, their homes, theirschools, for a few solid hours under the California sun.

The only thing she doesn’t accept on the field is giving up;but she does accept anxiety and she does accept tears, because whoever saidthere’s no crying in baseball clearly has never played softball with a band ofmisfit kids who spend so much of their time trying to be perfect that sometimesit takes a while for them to realize that on this field, with these kids, withthis coach, they can revel in their uniqueness, in their imperfections.

She has a system worked out for their little bodies slippinginto existential crises: the swing set nearby. She holds the crying kid,whoever it may be at the time, and she rocks them, and she wipes their tearsand she gives them a bottle of water and some animal crackers, and she sendsthem with two friends – always two friends – off to the swing set for a fewminutes, so they can swing the sad away.

She keeps on eye on the ball and the other on them, and theyalways sprint back with smiles and giggles, ready to keep going, ready to learnmore, ready to be more.

So she teaches them to throw and she teaches them to hit;she teaches them to move their hips right along with the rest of their bodies,and most importantly, she teaches them to let go. To let go of what everyone’sever told them about perfection, about winning, about success, about theirself-worth. Because each of them are stardust, and doesn’t that sound coolerthan defining themselves by winners and losers.

They run drills and they support each other when the balltrickles through someone’s feet and they eagerly shout me me me me me!when Maggie stands at home plate with a bat in one hand and a ball in theother, knees bent and ready to aim a hit at each of them in turn.

They play against the other local teams, and even thoughthey don’t always win, they always shock the smug-looking parents and coachesof the other teams, and they always win over some new friends – with the moreexpensive uniforms and pressure to win constantly on their backs – because theyalways look like they’re having more fun, like they’re feeling more confident,than anyone else to ever step onto the field.

And the first time Alex Danvers steps onto the field,Maggie’s spare cap backwards on her head and a red bandana sticking out of herback pocket and a nervous but thrilled grin on her face, they decide that theyneed to interrogate this pretty new lady holding Maggie’s hand and helping hercarry her bags.

Because Maggie’s never held another girl’s hand before infront of them before, and she’s certainly never let anyone carry her bags forher before.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Alex. Alex, this is thesquad.”

They all form a line, squinting up at her and trying theirbest to look intimidating, and Alex is forcibly reminded of that Sandlot movieKara made her watch over and over when they were kids.

She glances at Maggie, who’s regarding them gravely, and shefollows her girlfriend’s lead, biting down her amusement and contorting herface into seriousness as she squats down on her haunches to be more on theireye level.

“You all seem like you have something to say to me,” shesays, doing her best to not address them like they’re nine, but rather, likethey’re a threat to her physical safety.

A girl with Bantu knots and a serious set to her jaw stepsforward and gestures at Alex with her red glove.

“Coach Maggie told us she was bringing someone special to meetus. Coach never brings anyone special to meet us.”

“Yeah, even though we’re pretty sure you’re not the firstgirl she’s dated. She’s pretty pretty!”

“Shhh Andy, let Chase talk, we all agreed!”

Maggie closes her eyes to keep from doubling over with laughterand Alex reminds herself that she can beat a polygraph test.

“So we just want to make sure you’re really special enoughfor her.”

“Because Coach Maggie’s the best!”

“She brings us for pizza after every game!”

“Even when we lose!”

“And she told off Janelle’s parents when they tried to tellher she couldn’t wear a tie or shop in the boy’s section!”

“Yeah, and look how fabulous I look now!”

“And she – ”

“Order on the field!”

Alex’s eyes open wide and wonders if in a decade or so,Chase would be interested in a job at the DEO.

“So,” Chase continues happily when silence fallsimmediately. “Tell us why you’re special enough for her. What are yourintentions with the best coach ever to coach?”

Maggie bites her lip and stares down at Alex for a momentbefore squatting next to her.

“Guys, you’re like the inquisition, Alex doesn’t have to – ”

“No, no, Maggie, it’s fine. I love how much they love you.”

She looks squarely at Chase, then at each of the children in turn as she takesa deep breath and speaks.

“And you’re right: Maggie only deserves the mostspecial things and the most special people. Because – and you guys all alreadyknow this – she is so, so special. And she’s special to me. The most special. Iask myself the same question every day, you know: am I special enough for her?And honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone can ever be special enoughfor Maggie Sawyer. Except maybe you guys, but that’s different. And as for myintentions?”

She turns to look at Maggie and puts a hand on her knee, andMaggie immediately puts her hand on hers to steady herself, because her heartis in her throat and her eyes are watering at Alex’s words.

“My intentions with the best coach ever to coach – the bestgirlfriend ever to girlfriend – are to try, ever day, to be special enough forher. To care for her – to love her – better than she’s ever been loved. Everyday, every night, and every moment in between.

“Ally.” Maggie’s whisper is barely a breath, and it’s almostlost in the whisper-shouting conferring of intensely defensive nine year olds.

After a few long moments of staring into each other’s eyes,a few long moments during which the softball team confers with each other inthe consensus-driven style Maggie taught them, Chase nods and clears her throatfor Alex’s attention.

“Dr. Danvers, would you like to play ball with us today? We’regoing to learn how to slide into second base, and we think it’d be great if youlearned with us.”

Maggie beams and kisses Alex’s hand as Alex shakes Chase’swith her other one.

“It would be my distinct honor.”

[hellomissmabel]

Manhattan Mistress part 1

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, Tony x reader and OC!Casey (daughter of Y/N and Tony)

Summary: It’s election season and things are about to get heated. Y/N Rogers, previously Y/N Stark, is the daughter of the late mob boss of Brooklyn. She took over when her father died and runs the streets with a firm hand, although no one knows it’s her pulling the strings. Money must roll, especially when it comes from her ex-husband Tony Stark. Tony secretly endorses Steve Rogers’ campaign, currently running for alderman and seemingly oblivious to what happens behind the scenes of his so-called happy marriage. But then Bucky, Y/N’s oldest friend, shows up to win her back and decides to stir things up a little.

Word count: 3.236

Warnings: the reader doesn’t shy away from foul language and talk of sex, murder and infidelity.

A/N: my fingers have been itching to write this story! It’s much, so much darker than what I usually write. Dedicated to my favourite mob AU writer @caplanbuckybarnes. Congratulations on the 1.3k followers! Enjoy sweetie!

“I’m so happy you could make it. She’s been looking forward to spending some time with her daddy the entire week, she never stopped talking about it.”

Tony laughs lightly, his brown eyes lightening up as he scoops Casey up in his arms. He twirls her around before hoisting her over his shoulder, her beautiful curls dangling wildly in the air as her shrill giggles fill the atmosphere with so much glee you can’t help but break into a bright smile, shaking your head at their silly antics. She takes after Tony in so many ways, from her dark hair and piercing brown eyes to her analytical take on the world and even her sassy character.  She’s still so young and yet it’s already as clear as day that Casey Stark is in fact her father’s daughter. At least she has inherited some of her mother’s quirks.

“Daddy has missed his favourite girls so much! You have no idea,” Tony exclaims heartily and you suppress a haughty laugh. There used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of you and vice versa. You love each other too much for your own good, not to mention you’re considerably younger than him, the source of many teasing remarks from certain enemies and even a couple friends although none of them have lived to see another day. But watching Tony pepper her tiny face with feather-light kisses, it’s so refreshing and it does things to your heart you wouldn’t believe. It flutters even higher as he makes these little and utterly adorable noises causing another fit of giggles to erupt from his daughter’s lips.

“My beautiful baby girl,” he purrs in a ridiculous voice, his fingers excitedly attacking Casey and engaging her in a tickle fight. “My beautiful baby girl and her insanely gorgeous mother.” He then looks up at you expectantly, giving you that look he knows will win you over, a look of melted gold that makes you weak in the knees. The only thing left to do now is flash his dazzling trophy smile and you’re a goner for sure. Fortunately he doesn’t but you can sense there’s an urgent question brimming his lips.

“What do you want, Tony?,” you sigh dramatically and he shoots you a knowing smile. Planting a chaste kiss on his temple, you sit down at the breakfast table, nibbling on a strawberry dipped in chocolate sauce before indulging yourself with a glass of fresh orange juice.

“Mind if I keep her for the weekend?,” he inquires, ruffling Casey’s hair whilst taking a seat opposite of you, pulling your daughter in his lap and bouncing her on his knee, her miniature fingers playing with his indigo tie. “I also thought that maybe we could host her birthday party at my place. She can have as many friends over as she likes and you don’t have to worry about the expenses, I’ll take care of everything for you. Unless you and Steve have already made plans, I don’t mean to impose.”

You shake your head, chuckling softly. “No, we didn’t make any plans yet, Tony. Steve’s busy running a campaign, as you are well aware of,” you say matter-of-factly, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your ex-husband joking around with your daughter just like old times. A lot has changed since you ended your toxic relationship and things have definitely changed for the better. No more throwing mud or making a snarky comment about something trivial, you can finally breathe again.

“Tony, you were a lousy husband but believe me when I say, and I’m only going to say this once, you are an amazing father. I’ll come pick her up on Monday, you two have fun.”

You gently bump Casey’s nose with your finger and allow Tony to take your hand in his, softly grazing his lips over your knuckles, gingerly placing a kiss as his neatly groomed scruff tickles your alabaster skin. He momentarily closes his eyes. “I love you, Y/N,” he mutters against your skin before letting go of your hand and tenderly pecking Casey’s cheek who is still completely engulfed by his presence.

“I know you do, Tony,” you reply quietly, your eyes staring at the ground below. “Believe me, I know.”

The drive towards the Rogers’ mansion isn’t long and the music on the radio doesn’t seem to please you, blaming the January cold for your sudden change in mood. You can’t seem to shake the thoughts of Tony and Casey and about how happy they were together. It makes you wonder why on earth you ever got a divorce before memories of lonely days and even lonelier nights start flooding your eyes with stinging tears and you remember quite clearly why you were so eager to sign those divorce papers. Not to mention all the bruises when conversation got a little heated.

You were eighteen and fresh out of high school when your boyfriend Bucky Barnes skipped town after your late father threatened to kill him if he ever laid a finger on you again. He didn’t like the idea of his Manhattan princess fooling around with an errant boy from Brooklyn, working a couple side jobs for your dad so he could provide for a living since both his parents died when he was younger. If your old man had only known it would drive you straight into the arms of Tony Stark, his right hand and most valued business partner, he would’ve thought twice before meddling with your love life.

You were way too young and unprepared to get hitched let alone be a mother. But if it hadn’t been for your beautiful daughter Casey, the apple of your eye, to keep you company on your darkest of days, you would have felt even more isolated. She’s also the only reason why you decided to continue the legacy of the mob life and why you stayed with Tony for as long as you have.

There’s not a single thing happening in this city that you don’t know about and there’s not a single thing you’re not involved in, although you stay clear from trafficking drugs and girls, it’s despicable and right up Loki Laufeyson’s lane. Too much blood had been shed on his behalf until your father forced his hand, killed his mother and made him sign a peace treaty. Oh, if he only knew it’s the Manhattan mistress calling the shots in Brooklyn and that he’s been your bitch all this time, he’d probably make a beeline for the executioner.

Truth is, no one except for your inner circle knows the truth. Ever since your father died, rumours about his successor have been keeping his associates too busy for them to notice his prissy offspring has taken matters back into her own hands. The new mob king could really be anyone at this point  but that doesn’t mean business can’t run as smoothly as it did before his decease. You’d like to keep everyone in the dark for as long as possible, not out of fear for losing their trust or respect but out of pure spite. These men are just a bunch of stuck-up, old-fashioned bastards with a stick up their ass and nothing but red on their ledger. They always used to look down on you and pity your father, a son would have been a much more convenient turn of events and yet here you are, screwing everyone over as we speak.

Even your Stevie doesn’t know what his dear wife is up to when he’s busy charming the audience with another inspiring speech and his winning attitude. You’d rather not involve your beloved husband in all the nitty gritty stuff that overshadows most of your life, he’s just too much of a soft-boiled egg to be able to handle the shit going down on the street. Besides, it would most definitely cost him his career and you your marriage because nothing good ever comes from the mob life, you learned that the hard way.

Grimacing as you pull up the driveway and get out of your car, you are greeted by Steve’s four-legged, furry friend Dodger and his new companion Trixie, the puppy Steve got Casey for Christmas. Once inside, you head straight for the kitchen and open up a bottle of your favourite wine.

“A little early for alcohol, isn’t it?,” Nat calls out from behind the grand piano in her typical sultry voice. She decided to grace you with an impromptu visit and you smirk at her, offering her a glass as well which she gladly accepts.

“I just dropped Casey off at Tony’s place,” you explain, taking a quick sip from the red liquid, revelling in the sensation of it caressing your throat with a pleasurable burn, the rich aftertaste lingering in your mouth and invading your senses with its delicious familiarity. You still have no clue how you survived 9 freaking months of pregnancy without even a single drop of your favourite liquid.

“Fair enough. She still looks at him like he hung the moon?”

You nod and Nat simply shrugs in reply. No further words are exchanged as you both sit at the kitchen island, staring at the screens of your cell phone light up with new messages and  finishing your drinks in silence, occasionally giving each other a sideway glance.

“You texting dear Stevie?,” Nat asks mischievously as she wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively. “The sex still mind-blowing or has our favourite politician been hit by a dry spell as of late?”

Word got around fast and it would be unwise to trick your best friend into believing the brick in your stomach that’s been dragging you down for the past two months never even existed. Ever since your childhood sweetheart Bucky returned to the land of the living, you have been living the life of a refugee. Conveniently enough he took up a job as Steve’s bodyguard, accompanying him on all his official visits until a couple of street rats tried to harass you on your way from a (shady) business meeting. Steve didn’t take it too kindly even though you tried to brush if off as a one-time misfortune. The next morning he decided Bucky would be of more use protecting you and he has been reassigned to you ever since.

Of course Steve is aware of your shared history but that doesn’t make him think of Bucky any less. They seem to get along just fine, as if they’ve known each other for ages already, which feeds your concern all the more. But there’s no need to worry excessively, at least not yet.

“Don’t pry, Nat, we have a healthy sex life. There’s something extremely arousing about that clean-shaven poster boy exterior and it feels just so good to sit on that self-righteous face of his you have no idea,” you admit before casually drawing a generous amount of wine.

She snorts at this, obviously amused by your statement. “Damn, Y/N, feeling blunt are we? I remember a time where you went at it like a pair of sex-crazy rabbits and knowing Tony, I believe he was rarely dressed for the occasion, if you know what I mean,” she retorts with a cheeky grin, sarcasm lacing her words sweet as honey but the sour undertone does not escape your attentive ears.

“And now I have a wonderful daughter. Nat, I know where this is coming from. I love Casey and I love Steve,” you reassure as her eyes squint in suspicion, shooting you a wary smile, “I’m not going to fuck up a long-term relationship, again.”

“I’m sorry,” she concedes with a deep sigh, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. She gives it a gently squeeze before speaking again, this time more cautiously. “But be honest with me here, Y/N, I need to know. Do you have anything to do with Sharon’s disappearance?”

The question takes you completely by surprise, it is as if she’s taken a knife from your kitchen drawer and stabbed you in the back while you weren’t paying attention. “Why do you ask me?,” you spit out, venom fighting its way towards the tip of your tongue.

“She’s dead, Y/N, that’s why I’m asking you. Clint told me so and I have no reason to doubt him. If he tells me she’s dead, she’s dead. I take his word for it.”

“I can’t say that I have.” Your jaw is set tight, your gaze as sharp as a razor, cutting through her stony exterior. For a minute, her mask of indifference slowly slips from her striking features.

“So it is true, I can see it in your eyes,” she hisses back at you. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Bucky took care of it, I presume? He would give his life for you, so I wouldn’t be all too surprised to hear he got rid of that nasty serpent for you. Doesn’t change the fact that you now also have blood on your hands, little birdie.”

Little birdie, it’s been a long time since anyone called you little birdie. It was always Tony’s favourite pet name for you and Steve quickly picked up on it as well. But never Natasha, she thought it to be too sickly sweet for a woman with your particular skillset, your particular ambitions.

“Natasha Romanova,” I whisper through gritted teeth, “You do not understand the severity of the situation.”

She doesn’t flinch but she does let go of my hand. Nat pours herself another glass and greedily devours it without so much as blinking an eye. “Then explain it to me,” she says dryly, “Or our friendship ends here.”

I swallow thickly at the sting of her words slowly conquering my mind. “You mustn’t tell anyone,” I insist, cupping her hands with mine. Her gaze softens and I know she is willing to hear me out. “As you well know, Steve and I went behind Peggy’s back long before she got sick. I was his mistress and I’m not proud of it.”

It’s how I earned the title of Manhattan mistress. It was a well-known secret that for two consecutive years I was the other woman in Steve Rogers’ life up until his wife Peggy was diagnosed with cancer. Not a fibre in my body wanted to put a stop to the relationship – by that time I had already fallen head over heels in love with the man – yet I albeit begged Steve to let me go because there’s nothing more appalling than go behind the back of a terminally ill woman. He did as I asked him to but couldn’t stay away for long and one month later he was barging down my door, teary-eyed and trembling from having walked all the way from his Brooklyn home to my Manhattan penthouse in the freezing winter cold.

For a long time you though you only offered him some kind of a physical release for all his pent-up frustration but slowly you had also wormed your way into his heart and that night alone was enough proof of his undying love for and devotion to you. It’s safe to say you are very determined to keep it that way.

“But, you see, it’s only a matter of time before he cheats on me as well. Look at it as an insurance policy,” you stated as you took the stem of your glass in your hand and swirled the wine around, too preoccupied by the subtle glow of the deep red in the early evening light to notice the dirty look Natasha send you.

“He wouldn’t dare. The things that man did to clear his name after the scandal broke out, he wouldn’t dare bring more dishonour on his already blemished name. He loves his job way too much for that to happen.”

You draw a long breath, exhaling slowly as you smooth down the skirt of your sapphire dress, Steve’s favourite because it matches his eyes. “My dearest Natasha, I can’t risk losing Steve. You’ve seen the way Sharon looked at him and I have no intention whatsoever to get surprised like a deer in the headlights. She did however see it coming yet made no attempt to escape my gun. But I took no pleasure in it, I did not enjoy taking her life.”

“And you asked Bucky to dispose of her dead body.”

“He’s the only one I trust to deal with the matter discreetly. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

“Y/N, he’d take a bullet for you if you’d ask him to. Of course he’ll keep his mouth shut.”

“Don’t say such things, Natasha,” you scowl at her. “Steve, he would,” you start but she promptly cuts you off, raising a perfectly manicured red fingernail to silence you.

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. I get it, Steve’s a wonderful husband bla bla bla. Even Tony would put his life on the line for you, he’s a sucker for your charms and everyone knows you’re that motherfucker’s weak spot. Hell, they even tried to use it against him. But not Steve. He might care for Casey like she’s his own daughter but don’t be mistaken, Y/N, politics have changed him. He’s not the same man who was married to Peggy, the man you fell in love with.”

She shakes her head at your foolishness and you can’t believe her nerve. You can take a lot of shit from a lot of people and that includes your best friend, but this is way out of line and you intend to make it perfectly clear to her that she won’t pull this trick on you twice without suffering the consequences.

“Don’t you ever dare speak like that about Steve or else I will order your execution and have your head on a silver plate by noon. Steve worked very hard to get this far up the food chain. No one, not even you, is going to take that away from him. From me. We’re a family now, Steve, Casey and I. If anyone messes with my family I swear to God they’ll pay for it.”

You finish your rant with a frustrated groan. Nat looks at you flatly, sighing exasperatedly and looking at you through thick black lashes. “If you want Steve to commit, why not get pregnant again?”

She grins wickedly and you grace her with your most conniving smile. “I’ve thought about that, too. Unfortunately it didn’t work for Tony but then again nothing ever seemed to work for that man, he could never keep his hands to himself even before we got married,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Nat. “So what makes you think it’ll work for Steve?”

She looks at you unabashed, a glint of surprise sparkling in her eyes like gold tinsel on a Christmas tree. “Steve wants children, he never got the chance with Peggy. Besides, you’ve always liked the idea of a picture perfect family, a white picket fence and 2-and-a-half kids. You’ve already got Casey, what’s keeping you from getting knocked up again? I bet you’ll have a lot of fun in doing so.”

You nod wordlessly, no harm done in trying, right?

“Mark my words,” she adds mischievously, “He will love you forever if you give him his own child.”

Part 2: the friction

I honestly have no idea who to tag so I’ll just go with: @beccaanne814-blog @mellifluous-melodramas @mrshopkirk @winterboobaer @kiwi71281 @a-little-hell-to-raise @unpredictable-firecracker @marvelingatthewonder @emilyinwonderland3 @hardcorehippos @iiharu-kunii @knittingknerdy @winterwolf57 @dontbeamenacetotheforce  @shamvictoria11 @theoneandonlysaucymo @bovaria @marvel-lucy @marvel-ash @thedragonblood

[fairest]

DIDN’T GO TO TWITTER YESTERDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2018

Extremely online.

Ethics are elsewhere.

Smoked the wrong kind of weed yesterday … ended up at the Met … where I could process not a thing …  saw not one painting … the Rothko looked like a Tooker, the Pissarro looked like a Rothko … I had several deep vacant thoughts about how horrible my recent writing is … ridiculous … total embarrassment … how do I even live … the world looks away … the world is doing me a favor.

I am terrified by the evening, but only at night.

Jets lost, Mets lost, Giants lost, at least we have Heineken and pretzels.

Sorry for making fun of the clothes people wear.

In New York, as Edmund White said, the costume ball continues.

I have this note here: Dodgers cap photo shoot.

It’s so exciting to be in New York and see the beautiful new skyscrapers instead of having to read tediously clear articles about New York skyscrapers that use words like “the site of production” and “global elites”.

We had the Buddha Delight with tofu at Wei West in the Goldman alley, my aunt and uncle split the check.

New York is for not having to read theory anymore.

That’s what you’re paying for.

There are no theories here, there is no news.

I take back everything bad I said about New York.

My left nut used to be that H&M, my right nut is now a Sephora.

Last night we went to a party.

I spoke in short sentences.

I told a girl with no hair & the wrong name that girls with no hair are hot.

I ate a whole bowl of Utz Salt & Vinegar potato chips and hoped in vain the DJs would play something other than Vince Staples.

I realized nobody at the party had read my latest diary entry.

I mean, who reads anything, text can only be seen, not read, on Twitter, on a phone, on Facebook, on The Atlantic Monthly, on Jacobin.

Sorry if I made fun of people yesterday, sorry, even to David Frum, sorry.

Should I be believed, though, because I waited so long?

No, I don’t want this sympathy with the city, we must get out of town.

My God, I am so sorry.

I miss the comfort in being bad.

Remember on Girls, when Elijah and Dill break up for the last time, and Dill says bittersweetly, I’ll think of you every time I go to Brooklyn.

Sarah Schulman wrote compared to Manhattan, Brooklyn seemed like a forest.

I smoked the right kind of weed later in the evening and we ate pizza and ice cream.

Growing up means not feeling guilty for forgetting the people you aren’t interested in.

I made somebody grow up. 

The world is growing up around me.

Thought about tweeting yesterday:

The commercial for lube you have to watch before a porn hub vid is also a commercial during The Revolution w/ Steve Hilton.

Jack White hated New York. Had those early press shots taken with the towers in the background. Made Meg write on his t-shirt with a Sharpie: NEW YORK CONFUSES ME.

For Plath, New York was three things: pain, parties, and work.

Frank O’Hara felt that if every negro in New York cruised over the World’s Fair in a plane and ran out of fuel the world would really learn something about the affluent society.

Bukowski said outside of Dallas, Houston, Charleston, and Atlanta, New York City was the worst place he had ever been.

Acker thought the girls are conservative and the boys all gay or male feminists. Non-playful breeds. She would take Nazis any day of the week.

Sebald asked us to imagine the amount of painkillers consumed in New York City every year, and how if you crushed them down you could go skiing, if you were also 420 friendly.

Babitz said, well, you know what she said, Eve Babitz was a fucking genius.

James Polk, the worst president in U.S. history, won New York.

Philip Roth said the purpose of streets is to pick up women. There’s no other reason for them.

I said to my cousin at dinner tonight, what’s it like having to talk to your brother about Trump, you guys must really disagree a lot.

My cousin said, actually, I don’t think there’s much for us to disagree with.

Sorry about your student loans, what’s the wi-fi here.

I take back everything I said yesterday, New York is a beautiful place, especially if you avoid Twitter.

I bought Facebook at $19, what’s your accomplishment?

Think I’ll go listen to Wagner in Zucotti Park.

I want to take a step back for a moment, erase all I said.

There was news this weekend, but we were on vacation, tomorrow we fly home, they’ll be more news.

News without Twitter sucks, because Twitter is great for news. That’s why if you avoid what’s great for news, you avoid news, and a few seconds later you find your own language.

Watched a lot of FOX NEWS this weekend (Manhattan is a red state obviously; we have the meats) and FOX NEWS is so much better than CNN and MSNBC combined, you actually learn something other than aghast-ness.

Your own language is down there somewhere, it’s not witty, it’s not smart, it’s not intelligence, it earns no likes, your own language is not retweetable, your own language doesn’t get a reaction.

I have this note here: artists are people who know other artists.

I’ve been to therapy, I know what it means to express myself, but that’s something we’ll have to pick up next time. 

Nothing that appeals to the masses survives.

News is universally appreciated.

Anything universally appreciated has already disappeared.

You must not leave an impression on your own time. You must not engage.

Leave society.

News is worse than comedy. 

Do not interact with the language of your own time.

Do not talk back to something that doesn’t talk to you.

Ten people liked the Odyssey, six people liked Ulysses, nobody likes the writers of today, the writers who will be misread tomorrow.

You must believe.

It’s always a coming out scene for a desperate amateur.

It’s always finally my time.

Today’s the day the world will understand me.

My phone is losing power and last night was a long week, I keep thinking of that Eileen Myles poem, old people are always / charging things.

If you are holding this document in shaking hands, given to you by a man and his hands shook too, in your hands you hold the truth of one man who had the energy, the self-respect, the life force, to not go to Twitter yesterday.

We are cashless and anti-gun.

For as much as I’ve said, more has gone unnoticed.

The last great myth of the male novelist, before this one.

I said to my wife we know nothing about Vietnam.

It’s gone.

We know nothing.

Anthony Bourdain is all that’s left.

Anthony Bourdain is to Vietnam what the Classic New York Egg Sandwich is to…

Extremely online.

The only people ‘extremely online’ are those with one thing left on the web.

Any site that doesn’t support frames and is all about your Napoleon thesis is extremely online.

Any porn star with only one casting couch vid and comments that say ... what’s her name ... whose got other vids ... I wish she did more ... she’s too hot for porn ... the guy is so much hotter.

She is extremely online.

Think I’ll go to Zucotti Park and place my hand over a teenager’s mouth.

I saw this posted bill the other day.

Wanda Sykes is giving a talk on the authentic self.

Life is inconceivable.

Money is made by people who say otherwise.