#louisiana saturday night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

christinebloodwrittings · 2 months ago

Text

Die in your arms #4

Alastor x Fem!reader

Taglist: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan

Warnings: Implied SA, imprisonment, trauma, mentions of blood.

Masterlist

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

March 1914. New Orleans, Louisiana.

Seven am to seven in the evening, Mondays and Thursdays. Tuesday and Wednesday he gets up at six anyways, but prepares breakfast for both before he leaves. He calls around eight A.M everyday, to check in before the show starts, then he comes back at ten pm, sometimes eleven. You had his steps studied. Well, almost.

After three months, you discovered that Alastor is very unpredictable. His mouth says words but his eyes show the opposite. He keeps his body language at bay as much as he can, but there are times when he betrays himself. When he’s in pain for example, he’s bad at hiding stress and headaches.

In the dead of night, he returns from ‘work’ reeking of watered down blood. He does that every single Thursday, but the frequency has increased every week since Christmas.

What kind of trouble can a scrawny radio host like him get into?

One Saturday morning, a day in which he only writes the scripts for his upcoming week, he was more tired than usual. “Morning” he saluted you without taking his eyes off the semi-blank pages, taking occasional looks at the newspaper.

He also had your steps memorized. Decisive but soft steps, he also noticed how you walked on your toes instead of putting the weight mainly on your heels, and you don’t like using shoes.

He only had seen your routine when he’s - obviously - inside the house. It goes without saying that you act way more ‘at home’ or ‘comfortable’ when he’s not around. He was more than aware of that fact.

He detested your ‘tiptoeing’ or ‘walking on eggshells’ attitude around him. Not in a controlling way, but in a ‘could you please acknowledge that I'm not a threat?’ way, otherwise he felt like his bastard step-father who caused his mother to behave in much the same way.

Within the first three months he realized he hated your careful demeanor, in an absolutely selfish way, because he wasn’t doing much to atone it, other than avoiding being too ‘present’ or ‘involved’. But then he realized that was exactly what he needed to do in order to create the home atmosphere he started craving.

So, that Saturday morning, after breakfast, he sat nearby as you added a compost of your own making to the soil. Although he thought he was making a good move towards you, he was so difficult to read that you felt as if he was going to pounce on you at any given moment.

How fucking invasive! You thought, adding more and more strength into the hole making for the tulip bulbs. Why was he staring at you like that? A normal wife would be more than flattered to have her husband’s attention like you do, but you have seen the passive yet menacing stare of a tiger at some point. The feeling is exactly the same as how you felt under his watch, like a prey preparing itself to run for their life.

That, until you decided it was enough…ten minutes after he sat down that is.

“What’s going on?” he opened his eyes to your strong tone of voice. Which, by the way, has improved quite a bit compared to the dry, hoarse voice you had in November. “I can’t have some coffee in the yard of our house?” He avoided saying ‘my house’ on purpose, - avoiding being an asshole -.

You stabbed the small shovel hard into the dirt and turned to look at him. “The fact that you’re there doesn’t bother me, the staring is the fucking problem” alright, point strongly taken, but the “What about it exactly?” question was bugging him, and unconsciously slipped past his lips.

You closed your eyes, swallowing a lot of words to just say, “I feel your stare burning the back of my head”, then another deep breath for the following, “If I have to be honest, it does make me angry”, among other feelings. It did feel strangely formal to talk like that, but Rosemary did scold you for the excessive use of foul language, and you really wanted to avoid that from happening again.

“I just…I like watching you work the dirt” he was tongue tied, he had literal goosebumps of excitement. “Do…You want to help?” he nodded, like a kid being offered to lick the frosting off a spoon. It felt off, wrong, but you weren’t going to get more information off the distance.

If you were going to live in the lion’s den, you might as well get some ways to crush him.

“Then come here and make yourself useful” you hand-motioned him to get closer.

It came out harsher than he intended, but he felt like he'd taken a good step. He made you say ‘I feel’, which in the few psychology books he had read, was a way of communicating what your body couldn't.

You took a quick glance back at him, that turned into a solid minute, just to watch him rolling up his sleeves, realizing that he was not as scrawny as you thought. But of course the suit hid all of that.

“So, what can I do, boss?” He chuckled as you shook your head. “Your fingers are larger so make a hole deep until the brim reaches your second finger joint, not your knuckle” Your hands were considerably smaller than his, he found that adorable.

Bossy, he thought.

On the other hand, you weren’t going to lie, Alastor is a very good looking man. The mustache was a bit much, but the smart look his glasses gave him, his chocolate skin color, light brown eyes. And his hair! He had a haircut where the left side was kept gel smooth towards his nape, while the right side had a fringe of curls hanging down over his glasses. The side without gel looked fluffy and soft.

Damn you, good looking monster. You bite back.

“Is there a way to predict what color they will turn out?” you heard him, far away, echoing in the distance. Which was odd considering he was just a few feet from you. “No, you just plant them, with the green tip up, and just wait” the sunlight flickered above you, but you figured it was just a passing bird.

“What color are you hoping for?” his voice was suddenly close, his side of the dirt already done with what you had asked. “White or maybe pink tulips” you answered softly.

He didn’t want to push his luck, given that you eyed him up and down, “You also gave me roses and mint, I planted the seeds separated because they do not like each other, they compete for nutrients like leeches” you made worm fingers near your face, just to show him how nasty they were.

He seemed to listen intently to what you were saying, not in a ‘I’m forced to do so’ way, but really interested, he saw you turn your eyes away from him, light shining and fading just as quickly. “How do you know so much?” he copied the way you tucked in the bulbs with dirt, as he wondered.

“My mind is a little foggy, but I just know” you lied, it was from the first book your father gave you, an herbology book to put some color to the garden. Oh how you missed the vines with tiny pink flowers growing outside your window.

“Where I grew up there was a big cinnamon tree. I never developed a taste for tea, but my mother loved her black tea with a stick of cinnamon.” He once called it sock water in front of his mother, when he was a very young boy, she tickled those words away. The memory brought him a tender smile.

“How wholesome” memories slipped off your mind, especially your mother’s face and voice. “You don’t remember anything from your childhood?” you suddenly heard him from in between the void, “Not much, but I do remember smells, lights, and the taste of apple pie…” crunchy crust, soft inside, the lovely taste of cinnamon. But then, there was just darkness, where could everything else be? “Other than that, it’s…pretty blank”.

“I’m not a fan of sweets, but my mother had a recipe for apple pie, I can try and take a crack at it, if you wish” In contrast with his brown skin, he had lighter coloured marks going upwards into his forearms. “Your mom liked sweets?” you wondered, feeling his eyes following your stare up his arms. “Baking made her happy” Him eating them was the thing that made her happy, you thought, and you weren’t wrong.

“I think it wouldn’t hurt to try”, success! He had made a good step forward.

Soft jazz played from the gramophone near the stairs, a cheerful tune with no lyrics, just the drums, bass, and the occasional trumpet solo. When the high notes were struck but the pace never fastened, he heard you humming in repeat, softly, just for yourself. Truth be told, he noticed that any tune that carried enough feeling through the bridge brought a smile to your face.

When the needle moved to another song, he started humming as he kneaded the dough. The piano was his favorite, you could tell by the way he made the movements of the keys against the marble of the counter, and his feet moved to press an invisible pedal.

“Cinnamon and a splash of lemon” he added to the filling, your hand flinching away a little when he tapped the bowl, prompting you to move it more to the space between you.

He was so close.

He gave off a smell of tree bark, freshly cut grass and rainwater. Very pleasant, charming, and dangerous. But you remembered every poisonous stench of the men that attended the brothel, he not only was a threat, he was a true rose. Beautiful and inviting, until you get too close and get caught by its thorns. But, somehow he didn’t smell of sweat off alcohol, like other men.

You gave off a smell he couldn’t adequately describe. He couldn’t get close enough to try, either. Though, he was quickly distracted by the sight of your bare hands, a knot tying a noose in the inside of his throat.

He remembered having your hands in his, but he had never seen them without gloves or bandages. Your right ring finger was crooked, a cut where it was obvious it had been sliced like a ham and glued back onto your right middle finger. Both of your hands had healed scars on their knuckles, and what looked to be cuff scars on your wrists.

Despite the time, there were parts of your skin that would not return to their original color, nor any amount of cream and ‘regenerative’ treatments would help either. Your knuckles were forever disfigured, no wonder you were still using bandages despite them being already healed. It did caught his attention.

He wondered, what the hell happened that forced you to fight to that extent?

He swallowed a lump of saliva, then pointed to your right hand, “Does it hurt?” then moved down to also ask for your wrist. You looked up at him wondering what was the purpose of the question, if it was pity or just curiosity, but you couldn’t tell by the look on his face only.

Shrugging your shoulders you turned back to the bowl, mixing the filling, “Not anymore” you limited your answer to a half told truth. “You don’t have to answer, but, is there a reason for the bandages?” You thought about his question for a minute, not paying attention to how his eyes scanned your up and down.

“Comfort, that way I avoid unwanted friction and looks” the way you shot him an accusatory sideway eye, made him choke down a scoff. “May I?” he took a deep breath trying not to laugh, to ask for your hand. He had his over yours, with the intention to simply touch, but you ended up putting your hand over his knuckles.

‘So, not touch but look, I can do that’ he thought as he pulled a little to get your hand closer as he adjusted his glasses. He hummed, inspecting the variety of reliefs and depths. Definitely the result of a crude fighting style, yet strong.

The wrist lines though, those weren’t made by the police handcuffs. He mentally noted that it had to be a bigger and thicker kind of cuff to make such a damage, and also a lot of resistance.

Thinking about that just made his knot worsen.

He gently motioned his hand down, your hand shakily coming back to the side of the bowl. “I noticed you were looking at mine earlier” from the corner of your eye you saw him roll his sleeve higher, “If you wish, you can do the same”. You put the spoon and bowl aside, with one hand you grabbed hold of his index and middle finger, pulling down gently yet no less tensely. With your other hand you touched the pale streaks of skin upwards. Causing all sorts of chills up Alastor’s spine.

Alastor didn't know if he regretted his offer or if it was a good idea to begin with. You looked like a blind person reading braille as you touched him. There was the amusing way you made sure he couldn't grab you if that was his intention, that took his mind aside from his nerves. In the position he was in, Alastor recognized that you could easily twist his fingers if he did something wrong.

'So cautious, I like it' he thought now seeing how you simply observed the skin he was so mocked for.

He heard you humm and set his arm to his side, then your attention went back to the mixing bowl. Just like that. So it was okay for you to invade his personal space, but not the other way around?! Perhaps he could see how far he could push that boundary.

“Did it hurt?” you spoke softly, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of concern or curiosity. “Yes, but I don’t regret it” another humm, this time in understanding.

A deafening silence was created. To alastor the music of the gramophone seemed so far away, echoing in between thoughts and questions.

“Can I try something?” He bit his tongue as soon as he spoke, but he couldn’t take his words back when they already had caught your attention. “Another recipe?” you could hardly believe you sassed him, how did he get you so comfortable?

“No” he laughed, “I’ve never been fond of physical contact, but-” the feeling of his skin that had lingered on your hands began to burn, had you done something wrong, will he do something to punish you for taking such liberties? He offered, how could he be mad?! doesn't matter you were going to make sure to block anything he was thinking of doing.

“Oh, then I overstepped, I’m sorry” Alastor felt as if you had shut a door straight against his face, “No, it feels odd but, unlike others you don’t do it…with bad intentions”. He saw you eye him up and down sideways, would that mean you opened the door again, just a smidge? “I just want you to know, that you can touch me whenever you feel like it” he was probably shooting himself with that invitation, but he wanted to know if you’d take his hand or grab him by the arm - so to speak.

One motion, you made one downwards with your finger for him to move a bit to your level, given that he’s taller than you. But he had to be ridiculous, instead of bowing down, Alastor knelt down in front of you again. Just like the night after the wedding. And with a fucking shit-eating grin, definitely enjoying your confusion/flustered mix of emotions.

Before your peripheral blind spot, you spotted a knife, if you were quick enough you could grab it and slit his throat. End this whole farce once and for all. It had become oh so annoying, his smile, his confidence, and his false sense of chivalry.

He was mocking you, with every smile and soft, considerate touch. He's a fucking monster, just another pervert of the bunch, he'll be quick to take advantage of the slightest spark of trust you give him.

'But still...' you brought your hand to his face, running down his jaw to the Adam's apple on his neck. 'What a nice sternocleidomastoid, how would it look skinned and open?' under your hand you felt him swallow. Was he nervous? How shameless.

'You're studying me and you're not ashamed to show it’ Alastor mocked mentally, his eyes locked on yours. His mind was alert and yet his body surrendered to your warmth. While having your hand on his neck, it was like looking at himself in a mirror. What a depraved look you had, he felt as if you were visually making your way between every strand of his muscles, perhaps seeing how many ways to make him scream in agony.

"Soft," you whispered unconsciously. As soon as he appeared, your predatory gaze disappeared, your hands moving up to his hair, enjoying his well-defined curls between your fingers.

Where did your blood-hungry look go? It was a drastic change, almost as much as going from one song to another. From a dull and sadistic one to an innocent and happy one, how interesting.

Both of your hands were in his hair now, drawing his face to your collarbone. Now that he was close enough, he tried to decipher, what was your smell? Dirt, dried blood, burnt skin, alcohol and bandages, what a sad aroma. He was suddenly so depressed, he couldn’t enjoy being so close to you.

“May I?” he put his hands up, aiming for your arms. "No…unless. If I put your hands on a specific spot, do you promise not to move them from there?" how about giving him the chance to slip and give you a reason to harm him? A fake image of trust to feed his ego.

Your heart started pumping loudly inside your ears, as you put his hands up the sides of the unmarked sides of your waist. Unmarked, but not untouched. He felt how a shiver went up your skin, even through the thick layers of fabric.

An image of brown and red leaves flooded your mind, warm sunlight and a swing, your legs swinging back and forth, the momentum making the wind lift your hair. Oh how you missed not having to feel invisible hands touching your skin, eyes on the walls, mirrors and dark corners. Just living under the warmth of the sun and the spring breeze, sweetly and innocently.

The sound of the needle hitting the end of the record pulled you back to reality. You took a deep breath, and notice just how close you were, your unmarked cheek pressed against the crown of his head, arms around his neck.

As soon as Alastor felt you move back, he immediately removed his hands from your waist. Reluctantly closing his eyes as he was kicked down by the cold again. Couldn't you stay for five more minutes? But he just silently turned to watch you walk around the kitchen island and change vinyl records, with an inevitable longing stare you never caught sight of.

“What language is this?” you muttered to yourself, attempting to read the burgundy cover. “It’s French” his face was so close, you could smell his shampoo again. “Mon coeur s'est envolé, it means ‘My heart flew away’” Since you’ve never heard French before, you couldn’t tell if he was being truthful, he might as well be just speaking gibberish to impress you.

“You speak french?” you looked up at him. “A variety. I speak Cajun, after all I’m creole” You hummed again, this time an ‘oh’ he couldn’t decipher. “It’s a waltz version of the original, would you like to play it?” he moved the needle up for you to put the A side up.

He had you almost caged inside his arms. His right one down the level of your eyes, the other out of sight. But how come you didn’t feel so threatened? Still possibly in danger, but…how come?

To Alastor you seemed so tense, hesitant. He really wanted to hold a steady pace with you, but somehow he kept going backwards. What drove you to be so extreme with your emotions?

Most of the time you look at him like a pest, others you don’t even look at him at all. That bloodlusted stare was the most sincere sight he had of you since he met you, and he couldn’t settle with just those crumbs, he wanted more.

“Could you say something else in French?” oh wait, were you actually interested? Alastor smiled and got his face as close to your ear as he could without pressing himself at all to your back. “What would you like me to say?” his breath and velvet voice tickled your ear, “Anything”.

He took your hand, raising it so he could softly kiss your scarred wrist, “J'aimerais t'embrasser” he whispered against your ear, as if he was telling you a secret, something for your ears only. “What does that mean?” he softly lifted your hand, turning you around on your heels. “It means, you owe me a dance” his hand pulled your back from the same height you allowed him to touch, just so your chest could be closer to his, “Would you do me the honor?”.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ Alastor slapped himself internally. In his way of thinking, there were two possible options that could explain what was going on with him.

The hug you gave him made him go too far out of his comfort zone where he felt in control and he tried to counteract it by making you feel uncomfortable. Or he was actually enjoying your company.

Utterly preposterous.

He put the pie to bake, then started the song again.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fanart

41 notes · View notes

embodiedfutures · 3 months ago

Text

nov 9 - nov 13 readings

hi! this is reaux (she/they)! as many of you know, BFP is slowly waking up and will be undergoing a full makeover in the coming months. in the mean time, to help get back into the pattern of posting and to continue to share resources, i want to start posting what i read each week!

without further ado, here is everything i've been learning from and engaging with so far just between last saturday night [nov 9, 2024] and right now [wednesday afternoon, nov 13, 2024]! i tried to post this on tiktok @/edgeofeden.17 (go check me out for cool political talks and reading recs!) with my reactions as well, but they said it violated community guidelines :(

journal article: The House on Bayou Road: Atlantic Creole Networks in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries

wikipedia: Plaçage

wikipedia: Signare

paperback book: Africans In Colonial Louisiana: The Development of Afro-Creole Culture in the Eighteenth-Century

article: Why Is Gen Z So Sex-Negative?: A prehistory of the Puriteen.

article: Policy-makers must not look to the “Nordic model” for sex trade legislation

article: Sex workers face unique challenges when trying to unionize: Anti-sex work stigma and labor status create roadblocks in sex workers’ fight against the industry status quo

wikipedia: Decriminalization of sex work

short youtube video: "Decriminalization of sex work does not mean the decriminalization of human trafficking."

short youtube video: What About Legalization? Decriminalization is the only solution

short youtube video: Dis/Ability and Sex Work Decriminalization

short youtube video: "Helping people through police is inherently coercive." - Gilda Merlot

wikipedia: Page Act of 1875

essay: Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power by Audre Lorde

wikipedia: Erotic Capital

long youtube video: KATHERINE MCKITTRICK: Curiosities, Wonder, and Black Methodologies // 09.14.20

journal article: Black life is Not Ungeographic! Applying a Black Geographic Lens to Rural Education Research in the Black Belt

journal article: Black matters are spatial matters: Black geographies for the twenty-first century

journal article: Unspoken Grammar of Place: Anti-Blackness as a Spatial Imaginary in Education

short video: Chicago Works | Andrea Carlson: Shimmer on Horizons

zine: Evaluating What Skills You Can Bring to Radical Organizing

diagram + workbook?: The Social Change Ecosystem Map (2020)

essay: How to Build Language Justice

guide: Anti-Oppressive Facilitation for Democratic Process: Making Meetings Awesome for Everyone

radical resource library: Center for Liberatory Practice & Poetry

short essay: The Short Instructional Manifesto for Relationship Anarchy

essay/blog post: Access Intimacy: The Missing Link

i think that's everything? whew. let's see how i finish off the week! if you need PDFs for anything i didn't directly link, lmk and i'll find a way to get it to you. might upload it to my google drive or something!

topics: Louisiana Creole history + heritage, women of color + erotic capital, sex work decriminalization, Black geography, revolutionary organizing, language, relationship anarchy, disability, intimacy

36 notes · View notes

powersurger · 4 months ago

Text

Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow

Kick off your shoes and you throw 'em on the floor

Dance in the kitchen 'til the mornin' light

Louisiana Saturday night

#bkdk #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #voided art tag #bakudeku #katsudeku

24 notes · View notes

skyler10fic · 2 months ago

Text

The Gift of Time

By Skyler10

Summary: A mysterious Christmas gift transports Carol to a future she needs to see, beginning with waking up in bed next to her superhero-coworker crush on the morning of Christmas Eve!

Notes: In one of many alternate universes to our own, the agents of Shield and Captain Marvel had adventures and lives that are in some ways much the same as the stories we know, but their family relationships and details are slightly different, and a certain witch from Agatha All Along appears! But different. Merry holigays and a happy new queer! :)

(Photo hat tip/prompt credit to the monthly @ficwip 1k image prompt for inspiring this, but the word count is six times that so it does not count for their event. haha)

Read on Ao3

-------------------------------

Cozy and warm in bed, Carol Danvers did not want to wake up. She could tell without even opening her eyes that it was morning, but she felt like it was far too early for that. Stretching and yawning, she wondered where Goose was if not pawing at her face for breakfast to be served. She turned over in the direction of the bedside table with her phone on it, but her arm hit something unexpected.

“Ow,” a female voice next to her mumbled, still half asleep. “I’m awake, geez. Just five more minutes, babe.”

Carol blinked open her eyes in confusion and shock. The woman in bed with her was very much not awake, but still gorgeous even in her disheveled state. Carol’s eyes adjusted to the light, and her brain slowly caught up with her attraction. Wait. She knew who this was.

“Daisy?” With a caramel tint, her hair looked lighter here up close in the morning sun than it had at work this week.

“Mmhm?” Daisy peeked one eye open and did not in the least seem surprised to see Carol.

“What do you remember of last night?”

Daisy smiled and turned on her back to stretch, eyes still mostly closed.

“C’mon, we didn’t have that much wine first. But if you really did forget, I can do it again.” Daisy turned back to Carol and slid a hand up Carol’s shirt suggestively.

“I wouldn’t complain,” Carol said, not giving away that she had no idea what Daisy was talking about. There was nothing Carol’s lust wanted more than to find out what that was, but she had to figure out why her coworker crush, Agent Johnson, also known as superhero Quake, was in her bed, or even in her house, first thing in the morning.

Daisy cuddled into her side and snoozed comfortably as if they did this every day. A flicker of light caught Carol’s eye, and she glanced around the room. The windows were wrong. The decorations were unfamiliar. This wasn’t her room. Or bed. This wasn’t her house at all. Carol tried to keep her pulse calm as her mind raced with what to do next. She knew Daisy’s powers would be able to sense if her body tensed in signals of fear instead of comfort and desire.

“Go back to sleep,” Carol whispered to Daisy as she snuck out of bed. She found the bathroom right outside the bedroom and noted the clear couple’s setup: double sinks, each with a toothbrush and various lotions and makeup and such. Two bath towels, one navy and one baby blue, hung next to the shower. Even Carol herself looked different with shorter hair, parted farther to the side. The mirror was framed with little notes to each other, some in her own handwriting and some in Daisy’s. A few were just doodles of Christmas trees and snowflakes, while others said “Bake cookies for Christmas lunch” and “Saturday, 8 p.m., Shield gift exchange.”

“Oh.” Carol remembered. The gift. The last thing she remembered was opening a mysterious gift…

—----------------

Late on Christmas Eve, she’d received a cardboard shipping box, no message or name but her own, delivered to her house in Louisiana. Inside had been a gold present box covered in glitter with the warning on a gift tag: Do Not Open Until Christmas!

Obviously, she had been too curious, and she opened the gift. In her defense, the glitter and glimmer on the box was very shiny. On top of the gold tissue paper had been another warning: “Not for Use Before Christmas Day.”

This, of course, made her even more curious, and Carol Danvers couldn’t resist a challenge. She was only a few hours early. Surely that was close enough. She pulled out the most beautiful snow globe, with a base of elaborately detailed gold and silver. Inside was a scene of two girls kissing in a snowy village.

Goose meowed and tilted her head.

“You know,” Carol said to her not-a-cat, “I actually have a coat and hat that look like the blonde one. Now if only I knew who the dark-haired girl was.” The mystery girl’s face was partially hidden by the blonde’s mitten on one side and a gas street lamp on the other. Carol turned it around and around, but there was no way to see. She realized how silly she was being. The real mystery was who sent it and who had been the intended recipient. No name tag or shipping label provided any clues.

“You didn’t order this, did you?” Carol asked Goose. The flerkin blinked back in disinterest and sauntered away.

Carol turned the snowglobe over to check the bottom for any note or hint, but the only words there were likely from the manufacturer: “Time to shake things up.”

Out of ideas, Carol did as instructed. She watched in melancholy as the snow inside flurried around. Single and lonely with only her cat(ish) for company was just the stereotype the Christmas rom-com movies started with. But superhero work didn’t leave a lot of room for meeting girls, and she was getting recognized as a celebrity both here on Earth and on other planets, which was awkward in the best of times but nowhere more so than on a first date. And no one would believe her if she signed up for a dating app.

Besides, her heart was too busy falling for Agent Daisy Johnson. Daisy had helped her with some space missions, and they had come back home to Shield together as intergalactic politics and a massive meteor storm in the forecast made it safer to return to Earth. They’d been assigned to the same team and missions, and the more time they spent working together, the harder Carol fell for her. Daisy had seemed potentially interested and vaguely flirty, but then the holidays came and their team rotated off active duty. As they packed up to go their separate ways, Daisy mentioned being set up with a guy while back home and how much it sounded like a Hallmark movie. She rolled her eyes, and Carol laughed.

“I don’t mean to be a bitch about it, though. He really does sound like a great guy.” Daisy had shrugged. “Who knows, maybe he’ll be the one. Or, I don’t know, have a hot sister. Or some other cheesy Christmas movie plot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Carol had given her a tight smile, wished her luck and happy holidays, then slung her red duffle bag over her shoulder and left before Daisy could ask about her plans in return.

Then, the next night, with only a few hours until Christmas Day, Carol had shaken the snow globe while replaying this conversation in her mind and wishing she had the courage to ask Daisy out. Her eyes drifted to her phone, but the circumstances held her back from texting Daisy right that minute. If Daisy said no, or even if she said yes at first and then things didn’t work out between them, it would make their work together awkward, or worse, even more dangerous. They had people’s lives, including each other’s, in their superpowered hands every day. They couldn’t afford to be distracted.

But still, watching the last faux snowflake fall through the liquid in the glass ball to the sparkling white-painted ground, Carol envied her miniature doppelganger inside the winter wonderland. Her stomach sank as the last flake settled. Then, the glass seemed to glow, but Carol felt woozy, almost like vertigo and being pulled through a funnel at the same time, and closed her eyes.

—---------------

Now, Carol washed her face and held the warm cloth to her forehead, trying to make sense of how she’d gotten from watching the mystery snowglobe in her living room to standing in the bathroom of an unfamiliar home that was clearly her own in this reality, but not the same one she’d had last night.

“Ready to go?” Carol hazily remembered herself asking.

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy’s voice echoed in her head. It was fuzzy, like a dream.

“Hey,” the real Daisy greeted, more awake now, and met Carol’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Carol answered honestly. She’d seen a lot of weird stuff in her line of work, and anything—from parallel universes to an AI to someone playing mind games with her to literal magic from a sorcerer or witch—was on the table. Or this might all be an ordinary dream.

“This might sound crazy, but have you ever seen a snowglobe with two women that look like us in the middle, um, kissing? In the snow?”

Daisy searched Carol’s expression. “You’re joking, right? Sometimes it’s hard to tell before we’re fully awake.”

“No, I don’t know…” Carol tried to find a way that didn’t sound completely insane. “I guess it was just a dream.”

“Sounds like a good dream to wake up from on Christmas Eve.” Daisy casually kissed Carol’s cheek and continued about her morning routine. “Oh, don’t forget, we have the Shield party tonight.”

“Right!” Carol pointed at the sticky note. “And, uhhh, remind me of our plans for today before then?”

Daisy let out a little laugh. “What happened to Mrs. ‘Drag brunch is our new Christmas tradition!’ hm? Or was that a test? You’re testing me.”

“I just don’t want to be late,” Carol explained, hoping it would satisfy Daisy’s curiosity.

Daisy sighed, and Carol realized she’d hit a sore subject. “Let’s not do this today. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re off work. I promise, even if an extraterrestrial criminal mastermind is roaming the streets of Chicago on our way to the restaurant, we will simply walk the other direction, okay? We will not be late.”

“I trust you.” Carol didn’t know what to say as Daisy turned to her and took her left hand. Daisy slipped a ring on it, and Carol noticed Daisy wore one as well. Okay. So this wasn’t just spending the night with her girlfriend or even just living together. Both of the rings were untarnished, intact, and clean, clearly reserved for their days off. Carol noted the more durable, casual silicon rings in the jewelry dish on the counter. Ah.

Daisy noted her awe and misinterpreted. “I just assumed we’d wear these today…”

“Yes! I do!” Carol said a little too fast. “I mean, I do want to wear these. They are perfect. Just so perfectly us. I love them.” She tried to hide her delighted grin, but she couldn’t help it.

Daisy sent her another “you’re being weird” look and walked out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. “Coffee time!”

—-

Carol played along the best she could during brunch. Daisy drove on the way there, which allowed Carol time to scroll through the phone camera roll of this new-and-improved version of herself. She had learned from the phone that this was Christmas 2027, but luckily, smartphones still worked in essentially the same ways. The photo cloud app told her that she and Daisy were married last spring with a honeymoon in Hawaii. She scrolled further back, seeing coworkers and friends she recognized who were apparently now married or even parents themselves, and some friends she didn’t know. A lump formed in her throat as an unspoken question was answered in two photos: the first of a frame on a wall with a familiar cat collar inside and another of a headstone with an etched image of Goose and an epithet to a beloved extraordinary pet that must have left the engravers thinking it was a prank.

Carol rushed on to the previous months, not wanting Daisy to notice her sudden sadness, but the emotional pendulum swung the other direction to the previous Christmas with Daisy’s family, then an adorable autumn romantic photoshoot, and a summer engagement before that. It struck Carol that to the average observer, they would have just looked like an ordinary couple. Even with no memory of these events, though, Carol could spy little hints of their hero life sneaking through. The sky of the autumn photoshoot, for example, had two white dots in the background and a third larger moon-like circle on the opposite side. It had to be Galadna, home of the most beautiful autumn festivals and plentiful harvest, which they traded for seafood and hydropower from their sister planet, Aladna. Of course this reality’s Carol would have taken Daisy to visit, and gotten Prince Yan’s annulment paperwork and gender-neutral royal succession legislation passed, before their wedding. What else would a hypothetical future with Daisy look like?

It wasn't the first time Carol had seen photos of herself in a life she didn't remember, but this was different. C arol felt like she was cramming for a test as they parked at the restaurant. She quickly swiped as far back as it would go and sent the tiny photo previews flying across the screen until they landed on something familiar: Christmas 2024. Goose in a Santa hat with a displeased expression, followed by photos of her house in Louisiana decorated just as she remembered it, but then there was a series of screenshots she didn’t. She read them as they walked through the parking garage.

Daisy: At the cafe, about to meet up with Mr. Hallmark Holiday Special. ;P

Then a little later: Hm, it’s been 20 minutes and no sign.

Oh wait, just had a text. His ex is back in town and they are meeting up tonight. Of course! I’m not the main girl. I’m the one who proves he’s ready to get back out there. Ah well, just my luck.

A selfie of a beautiful Daisy dressed up for her date and alone in a cozy, warmly lit, holiday-decorated cafe accompanied a Wish you were here!

Sorry if I’m disturbing your Christmas Eve! I’ll stop.

Carol hadn’t replied to any of these, which only added to her questions. Why hadn’t Past Carol responded? Clearly, things worked out in the end, but she needed more answers if this was some sort of vision from the Ghost of Christmas Future or possible alternate reality or message from fate!

Thankfully, the drag brunch crowd was loud and fun, with plenty of entertainment that helped her avoid any more revealing conversations. Carol had a hard time enjoying the performance and food, though, distracted by her need to find the snow globe in this universe/dream world/virtual reality. If it was a portal to somewhere or a magical item or a well-disguised tech device (or even a weapon?), there was one way out. Decades of experience with the weird, supernatural, and extraterrestrial told her the first problem was acquiring the object, then returning to the trigger point. Flying to Louisiana, even if she could manage it without Daisy noticing she was gone, would be pointless without the snowglobe, she reasoned. Of course, if it was an alternate reality without the snowglobe, or a one-way portal, the trigger to reverse it could be something totally different here.

Daisy took her hand under the table as the waitress cleared their plates from the table. “Back to Earth, space girl. You’re a million miles away today.”

“Sorry.” Carol smiled at Daisy and played it off as simple distraction. “What did I miss?”

“Elena was explaining her family’s Christmas traditions in Colombia,” Daisy filled Carol in as the others at the table continued the conversation—Elena’s husband, Mack; Fitz and Jemma, whom Carol knew from Shield back in 2024; Bobbi and Hunter, who had been on one disastrous yet successful mission with Carol and their presence in the friend group in 2027 amused her; and the newcomer, Fitz’s cousin Deke who was visiting for their holidays.

“We’re all meeting in Miami for New Year’s this year at my cousin’s. It’s going to be a big Rodriguez family reunion,” Elena finished and turned the conversation to Carol instead, “How about the Danvers family holidays? What are your old childhood traditions?”

“Oh uh,” Carol scrambled. Finally something she knew, and it was a topic she’d rather avoid. “Nothing much. Just the usual, I guess.”

Daisy jumped in. “We usually do Christmas with mine, but my parents took my mom’s parents on a trip to China this year and we’re on our own.”

“I never really got along with my family.” Carol shrugged. She looked to Daisy to verify this hadn’t changed, but the others took it as a hint that it had something to do with Carol’s orientation. It wasn’t that so much as not being the kind of daughter they wanted. Growing up to be a lesbian teen and young adult in the 1980s had simply been the icing on the estrangement cake. She’d never been their ladylike pageant princess, and besides, they’d been informed by the Air Force that she died in 1989, and they hadn’t made contact in all the times she’d been back to Earth as a famous superhero. Carol wasn’t surprised their brunch friends wouldn’t have known this though. Most people didn’t realize how old Carol really was since she didn’t age like a normal human. Daisy had the same trait, a fact that had kept Carol up at night wondering if it was a sign they were meant for each other. To avoid the age question, it was simply easier to give as few details as possible. That had served her well on a normal day and was proving to be the trick to surviving this weird future too.

Another of their friends, Jemma, spoke up: “They got together on Christmas, you know.”

Thank goodness Jemma’s analysis skills transferred to reading the awkward situation and calculating a smooth segue. Carol mouthed back a silent “thank you!”

Deke leaned forward and insisted, “Tell the story, c’mon, you can’t leave us hanging, Granny!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “He calls me that because I knit, and apparently 10 p.m. is too early for bed unless you’re a grandmother.”

Carol turned her real question into a teasing one, “I’m still dying to hear the story about the women who got together on Christmas.”

She winked at Daisy and squeezed her hand, hoping she was passing off her information gathering as a game. However, the waitress arrived with their digital checks on a portable payment device, and Carol had to rein in her frustration at the timing. She had to know what she’d done between Christmas 2024 when she’d saved Daisy’s unanswered texts in her photos app and spending Christmas 2026 with Daisy’s parents and grandparents in her hometown, presumably planning their wedding in a few months’ time.

“It’s my favorite Christmas story,” Daisy flirted back as they waited for their turn to tap their phones to the payment device. The design of the thing was different now, but it was close enough to the 2024 version, and Carol had used tech from all sorts of planets in distant galaxies, that she could easily fake her way through using it as if this was her ordinary home world and time.

So she thought. The payment device beeped a clear error tone as she tried to pay for her breakfast and for Daisy’s.

“Hm, that doesn’t usually happen.” Carol blushed. She had the right orders selected on the screen, her payment app had automatically launched as it sensed the device within a few inches of her phone, and it said she had money in her account.

“Oh!” Daisy laughed. “You added mine to yours. One at a time.”

Carol’s confusion must have accidentally shown through. Daisy paused and observed her closely.

“You remember everyone has to use their own card now, right? The new consumer ID tracking laws?”

“Right!” Carol shrugged. “New laws. And tech! Changing all the time! Hard to keep up with all the places we’ve been; everywhere is different.”

She hoped that was vague enough, whether they were back to space travel or not by now.

Daisy added with a half-laugh, “Just like that time in Havana! Ugh, right?”

Carol knew that old Nick Fury code word. She played along, hoping it was a coincidence. Hoping Daisy didn’t know it. Carol finished the transaction silently and passed the device to Daisy, who did the same, but on their way out, Daisy took Carol’s gloved hand and pulled her in the opposite direction of the parking garage.

“C’mon, it’s the last day the Christmas market is open!” Daisy’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and the sudden chill of the air around them mirrored the cold fear in Carol’s bones.

“Honey, it’s freezing!” Carol pled. “Let’s go home. We have that party tonight...”

Daisy led her around a corner into an alley. Carol followed, hand in hand, helpless to resist if she was going to find out what was going on here. An opening in the dark brick of the alley led to an empty brick building with a hole in the wall where a door would normally be and no glass in the steel-framed windows. It looked like it had been…

The thought was cut off as Daisy pulled Carol in close by the lapels of her coat and kissed her deeply. Carol couldn’t think, she couldn’t panic, she couldn’t do anything but kiss Daisy like her life depended on it. She’d been waiting and wanting so long, dreamt of it a thousand times, nearly closing the distance between their lips on dozens of occasions. Now, whether she lived or died here in 2027, she had kissed a version of Daisy Johnson and her Christmas wishlist was complete.

The dreamy butterflies faded as Daisy backed away. There was a glint in Daisy’s eye and tension in her brow that sent Carol's internal alarm bells clanging.

“I thought so,” Daisy whispered.

Before Carol could react, Daisy stretched out a hand and quaked Carol with lightning speed, pinning her against the inside wall.

She demanded, “Who are you? What have you done with her?”

Carol hadn’t considered the possibility that she was the imposter here. “ I’m Carol Danvers. What I’ve been trying to figure out is who are you? What is this place? AI? Wish fulfillment tech? Parallel universe? I’ve seen it all, but nothing as real as this.” She struggled against the harmless but firm quake holding her captive.

A flicker of doubt crossed Daisy’s expression before it hardened. She raised the quake, pushing Carol up the wall six feet, then ten. “I’m going to let go now…”

Again, with no time to speak, Daisy released the quake. This time, Carol knew exactly what to do. She ignited and hovered in place with a cocky smile. “Good. You know I can fly, and you clearly have the same powers here. I’m going to come down now, and you’re not going to crush me into the Earth, okay? Let’s just talk.” Carol floated back to Daisy, who still tensed in suspicion, but allowed it.

Daisy’s voice edged on emotion as she demanded, “Who. Are. You? You look like my wife. You feel like her. But you’re not Carol Danvers. I know Carol Danvers. Better than anyone.”

“It’s me! Daisy, I swear it’s me. Listen, I don’t know how I got here, but you have to believe me.”

“Don’t lie! You called me honey five minutes ago. You didn’t know how to work the tech you were so against, but it wasn’t in protest. You really didn’t know back there, did you? You didn’t remember drag brunch, I could tell you didn’t know any of those stories, and you didn’t sing along to our Christmas songs. You scrolled your phone on the whole way here and barely talked to me. You didn’t recognize your wedding ring!” Daisy was losing control of her emotions and the building tremored the slightest bit, sending a light rumble through the winter air. Carol tried to speak but Daisy couldn’t stop, pleading now. “You don’t kiss the way my wife kisses me. You didn’t remember the snow globe ? If you’re Carol, my Carol, what happened to you?”

Carol’s voice cracked as she answered. “You’re asking the wrong question.”

“What's the right one then?” Daisy’s breath huffed out a mist in the cold air.

The snow outside caught Carol’s eye, falling into place like the puzzle pieces in her mind as she spoke: “It’s not what happened to me, but what hasn’t.”

Daisy started to speak, but Carol took Daisy's gloved hands in her own.

“Just hear me out. The last I remember, it was Christmas Eve 2024, only a few hours to Christmas Day. I asked you first thing this morning about the snow globe because I’d just opened a box with one inside. A snow globe with us in the middle. And, I know this sounds crazy, but I think it brought me here.”

Daisy stared at Carol in awe. “This is where you went that night? Why you didn’t answer my texts? I knew it didn’t take you that long to … Wait, I don’t know how much I’m supposed to tell you. I’ve traveled in time before and things got very complicated. If you’re you from 2024, there’s a lot that you shouldn’t know yet.”

“Actually…” Carol wetted her lips subconsciously. “I think that’s why I’m here, because there were things I needed to know.”

“Like what? A portal sent you through time and space so you could learn how to kiss me like you mean it?” Daisy was trying to be sarcastic, Carol knew, but with their bodies drawing closer and closer in the cold, and consequently, their lips this close together, it sounded like a sincerely tempting offer.

“No, to teach me that I could mean it without the world ending.” Carol dared to kiss Daisy again, but let her take the lead, noting even the slightest movement of her lips and tongue and hands.

“Okay, c'mon then,” Daisy whispered as they parted. She led Carol out the opposite side of the brick building with an identical crumbling hole in the wall as the door they’d entered through.

“Was this you?” Carol couldn’t help but ask as they walked through it.

“Us.” Daisy grinned and pointed up. A series of large scorch marks was clearly intended to be proof Carol had been here and battled something large, aerial, or both.

Daisy led them around a corner and Carol gasped in delight as a winter wonderland stood before them. This was like no Christmas market Carol had ever seen. The snow had piled up over days in the plaza and along the neighborhood sidewalks and storefronts with elaborate holiday window displays. It was falling again now, and shoppers around them bustled around with packages and hot beverages in hand, purchased from stands advertising cocoa, wassail, hot toddies, and more. Every lamppost was wrapped in garland and ribbon, and topped with a wreath, and music began to play as they wandered.

Daisy stopped in front of a faux cottage serving as one of dozens of seasonal gift shops. “If anywhere has a snow globe to replace the one we lost, it’s here.”

“Wait, what do you mean lost?”

Daisy worried her lip and tilted her head. “We don’t know. We put it out every year, but this year, it just wasn’t in any of the boxes. Everything else was there except the decoration that meant the most to us. It was a rough couple of days, looking everywhere we could think of, but it was gone.”

“What makes you think this place would have it? It was pretty unique.”

“Same brand.” Daisy pointed to the sign. “That’s who made the first one.”

A crafter’s logo, a name but so scripted it was nearly illegible, served as a mark of authenticity under the shop name: Shake Things Up.

“Let’s go in.” Carol figured at worst, they would have plenty of time inside to warm up as they shopped.

Inside was an old-fashioned wood cashier’s counter with a grand gold register, behind which the shopkeeper greeted them with a jolly smile. “There you are! It’s Lilia. Lilia Calderu?”

“Hi?” Carol was certain in all the long decades of her life, across civilizations and empires, she’d never met this woman.

All the same, the woman clearly knew her. “Oh Carol, you’ve done remarkably well. Not that I expected anything less from Captain Marvel.”

“Let’s keep that quiet,” Carol said, glancing around. Her identity wasn’t a secret, but she liked to stay low-key where she could and hadn’t been recognized yet by the public masses around her.

“Of course.” The shopkeeper turned to Daisy, somber now. “And you, Agent Johnson, are looking for this.”

Lilia disappeared behind a curtain to a back room and reappeared with a gold glitter-covered box that Carol recognized.

Something about Lilia’s focus on Daisy kept her quiet, however. She watched as Daisy accepted the box and Lilia raised a gentle hand to Daisy’s face, red from the cold.

“Have faith,” Lilia said, as if it was a blessing and instruction. She seemed to snap out of the mystical persona and back into shopkeeper mode. “Now, that’s $55, plus $15 for shipping and handling, and of course, instructions for resetting the clock are inside.” She raised her eyebrows as if they were in on the joke.

“Thank you.” Daisy paid with her phone, and they left the shop without browsing for anything else.

“Whoa.” Carol was certain it had been daylight when they had entered the shop, but now, seemingly only a few minutes later, they exited to a dark, snowy early evening. Most of the shoppers had gone home by now, with only a few wandering from shop to shop, and staff in holiday costumes bantered about their day while closing up for the day.

"We better get home for the Shield party, I guess," Daisy said, checking her phone for the time. "Time really flies by here."

They wandered through the market in the direction of their parking garage and passed through a grove of Christmas trees under a canopy of lights.

“Hey,” Carol pulled Daisy to the side. “I don’t know what is going to happen with what’s in that box, or even how to make it work. Or if it will. I just want to say, today with you has been a miracle.”

“A Christmas miracle?” Daisy smiled. “You were my Christmas miracle. That’s the story Jemma was going to tell. You saw my texts and flew right to me that Christmas Eve I got stood up, and I knew as soon as you walked in that cafe that you were the one I wanted. It couldn’t have been anyone else for me but you. You know, I’d always assumed that you didn’t respond because you were flying, but the timeline didn’t make sense. Now I know. You were here, right now, with this me.”

“So you’re saying, if I get home, I’ll have those texts on my phone waiting for me?”

Daisy shrugged. “If you do, remember, it’s the same the one we went to when we were the Welcome Wagon to that inhuman kid.”

“She was looking for you so she could skip high school and become an enhanced agent,” Carol recalled. “She nearly passed out when she saw us.”

“You know, that Christmas, she was telling everyone in town that she was being recruited for superhero service by Captain Marvel’s girlfriend.”

“And you never corrected her?”

“Maybe I wanted it to be true. And then it was.”

Carol couldn’t resist pulling Daisy in for a kiss. They had been walking side by side, so it was an awkward angle, but they adjusted. Whether they really had a magic snow globe portal time machine waiting for them in that box, or if they simply froze to death in the cold of the Chicago winter wonderland Christmas market, Carol would regret not taking the opportunity while she had it.

Daisy leaned into the kiss and Carol could tell she wasn’t simply teaching, but enjoying. Carol acted instinctively as her lips sucked at Daisy’s, in a move that was apparently just right. The box Daisy was holding shook with a little involuntary quake of surprise and pleasure, and the snow globe inside began to glow.

“Ready to go?” Carol asked.

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy flirted. They parted, intending to walk to the parking garage, but they both felt lightheaded for a split second. They closed their eyes, and the fabric of reality slipped away into darkness.

—------------

Carol woke to the sound of Goose meowing and her phone vibrating on the coffee table with an incoming text. Groggy, Carol saw the snow globe on the table and then saw her phone light up. Who’d be texting her this late on Christmas Eve?

Daisy.

Wish you were here!

Carol bolted upright as she saw the message with the selfie. She knew with unshakable conviction that she was supposed to go fulfill Daisy’s Christmas wish. And that wish would be the Christmas miracle she’d been looking for herself. Carol packed clothes and makeup for a date but wore her supersuit to fly in. At the last minute, she impulsively grabbed the snow globe. Even if this went poorly, she could use the excuse that it was Daisy’s Christmas gift she’d forgotten to give her.

Carol shot through the sky like a meteor, high over the towns and cities of America. The next day, children would tell of watching for Santa long after they should have been in bed, and seeing instead the flight of the Christmas star.

She dimmed herself as best she could as she approached and landed in the back of the cafe, at the delivery entrance. She changed hastily between parked delivery vans, then did her makeup and tamed her hair in the side mirror of one. She stuffed her supersuit in her bag and snuck around to the front of the building. The windows revealed a date-ready gorgeous Daisy with hunched shoulders and an empty mug on the table.

Carol’s heart broke seeing her like this. Daisy checked her phone one last time, and Carol realized by now Daisy knew her date wasn't coming. She was looking for a reply from her. To those unanswered texts. Daisy put her phone in her purse and started to gather her belongings to prepare to leave. Carol knew it was now or never. With a deep breath for confidence, she opened the door of the cafe, which announced her presence with jingle bells.

At the sound, Daisy looked up casually, not expecting the person she locked eyes with. Carol rushed to her table, and Daisy rushed toward her in return, wrapping her in a hug they both desperately needed. Carol tentatively placed the lightest of kisses on Daisy’s lips. “Merry Christmas, Daisy Johnson.”

“You came!” Daisy pulled her in and kissed her harder. By now, Carol's dream-liked memories of Christmas Eve 2027 had faded in the same way ordinary dreams do, and yet, Carol remembered something about exactly how Daisy liked to be kissed. She couldn’t have said how she knew it. She just did. Carol let instinct guide her lips and the cafe began to clap around them.

One older waitress, with a nametag that said Lilia, called out, “She better have a good excuse for keeping you waiting so long, sweetheart!”

They laughed as they pulled apart. Carol remembered what was in her bag.

“I do. I had to be home to open a mystery gift for both of us.”

Daisy’s curiosity turned to wonder as Carol revealed the snow globe.

“How?” Daisy sat back down as Carol placed it on the table, and they watched the snow fall around the miniature versions of themselves. Carol sat across from her and sighed happily.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I just knew it was meant to guide me to you, somehow. Then you texted with that picture, and I thought I’d grant your Christmas wish.” Carol winked, hoping she was reading the situation right.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect such fast delivery. Five stars.”

“Does that come with a tip?” Carol pushed. They’d been flirty before, but this held an underlying seriousness that had never been there before.

Daisy considered it, tracing her fingers over Carol’s on the table in light touch that made Carol’s heart race. “It does, actually, one I’ve been saving to share with someone special. But we’d need to go back to my place for it, plus two glasses and a corkscrew. You’d have to stay over though, never drink and fly.”

“Safety first, always.” Carol hardly knew what she was saying. All she could hear was Daisy’s low, sultry voice inviting her over for drinks and possibly more, including a sleepover.

Daisy paid her check, and Carol stored the snow globe back in her bag.

“Ready to go?” Carol asked.

Lilia the waitress wished them Merry Christmas and urged them to bundle up before leaving.

“I know exactly how to get warm,” Daisy said, though Lilia was out of earshot as she tended to the other customers celebrating the holiday together. Carol was the intended audience anyway, and the odd familiarity of the words comforted her. She couldn’t place why exactly, but somehow she knew that by walking out of that cafe side by side with Daisy, this was going to be the happiest Christmas thus far of her long life.

Inside the cafe, a “waitress” who had lived much longer than Carol could imagine, the benevolent witch Lilia Calderu, watched them in satisfaction through the decorated cafe window, knowing that not only would they have a magical holiday this year, but also Daisy and Carol, together with friends and family, would make many, many more.

17 notes · View notes

marvelgurl789fanfics · 25 days ago

Text

Last First Dance (Bucky Barnes x OC)

Summary: Much to Bucky’s dismay Sam drags him to a singles bar on 40s theme night, the night takes a turn for the better when his eyes meet a cute redhead’s across the bar. (Takes place shortly after TFATWS)

Warnings: none

(Might be a series might be a one-shot undecided)

Masterlist:

~~~~~

Bucky was leaning on the bar drinking a whiskey glaring daggers at Sam the man who dragged him to this dumb singles bar on 40s night of all nights. Sam danced with a blonde woman wearing an old fashioned navy blue cocktail dress, looking towards Bucky every once in a while feeling his stare from across the dance floor. Sam claimed he didn’t know it was 40s night, but his amused expression told Bucky the jerk knew damn well it was 40s night. As much as Bucky acted annoyed he was thankful for Sam’s friendship not that he’d ever say it aloud, but he knew Sam knew. With a sigh Bucky took a long drink from his glass finishing it off thinking of how Sam even talked him into coming.

~Earlier~

Lounging on his couch eating leftover takeout Chinese food for dinner. Bucky heard a knock on his door, setting the food container on his coffee table and headed to the door. Thinking it’s his new elderly neighbor needing his assistance again opening a jar, an amused huff left him as he thought of the sweet elderly women who he probably had 30 years on. Opening the door expecting a small old woman, he was a bit surprised seeing Sam standing in his door way with his teasing smirk. “Long time no see tin-man, did the wizard give you that heart yet?” Sam teased earning an annoyed look from Bucky, the idea of closing the door in the man face pasted his mind but knowing how persistent Sam is that wouldn’t exactly make him leave. With a huff Bucky stepped aside in a silent invitation in.

“Seriously man how have you been? It’s been two weeks since you left Louisiana, my nephews are already asking me when their new cyborg uncle will visit again” Sam said with a kind smile. A small smile spread on Bucky face as he closed his door as Sam entered “I will try to visit them again soon, I been fine Sam” Bucky said moving to plop back on his couch. “Really cause your sad dinner says otherwise” Sam said gesturing to the cold Chinese food on Bucky’s coffee table while sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Sam I’m fine” Bucky insisted knowing Sam is just worried about him. “Really? have you even left your apartment this week?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow, “of course I have” Bucky scoffed. “Going to the grocery store doesn’t count” Sam stated looking at Bucky for an answer only getting silents was answer enough for Sam.

“Ok that’s it, it’s Saturday night we’re going out” Sam said standing grabbing Bucky’s leather jacket from its hook by the door and tossing it at Bucky. “Wow Sam had no idea you felt this way about me” Bucky teased with a smirk standing pulling on his jacket and taking the gloves from its pockets and putting them on as well. “Oh you wish Barnes, but I’m way out of your league” Sam joked back.

~Present~

With a roll of his eyes Bucky turned back to the bar ordering another whiskey on Sam’s tab, while waiting for his drink Bucky’s eyes wonder around the other people at the bar ordering drinks, talking and laughing with friends. Bucky’s eyes stopped at a redheaded women sitting at the end of the bar sipping some green cocktail, her hair hung in loose curls one side tucked behind her ear. Tortoiseshell square framed glasses graced her pretty porcelain face, along with a peppering of freckles. Pale yellow dress with a sweetheart neckline a bit low by 40s standard but in modern time it would probably be considered modest. Bucky didn’t realize he was staring until the women’s looked up and her chocolate brown eyes met his icy blue eyes.

Bucky’s eyes tore away berating his self for probably creeping the women out. ‘Sam’s right I have a staring problem’ Bucky thought to himself taking a drink from his whiskey, that’s been delivered while he was distracted by the cute redhead. A pat on his back broke him from his self hatred, “You been at the bar all night, the point was to have fun” Sam said taking the bar stool next to Bucky’s. “I am, and you’re paying” Bucky said holding up his whiskey before taking another drink. “Come on grandpa I know you’re not 90 anymore but someone had to catch your fancy” Sam jokingly encouraged, Bucky huffed in dry humor and shook his head. “What about that little redhead at the end of the bar, she keeps looking over here” Sam said waving down a bartender to get a drink his self, at Sam’s words Bucky looked back over to the women that caught his eye. Sure enough she was looking over but was quickly looking away when he caught her. thinking for a moment he probably made her more uncomfortable than he original thought, then he noticed her cheeks turning red.

“She wouldn’t be interested” Bucky said looking into his whiskey with his usual self doubt, “Nope none of that tonight” Sam said while the bartender brought him his drink. “Sir, that redheaded lady in the yellow dress over there. Can you send over another drink to her from my friend here” Sam asked the bartender who just nodded in understanding, if looks could kill Bucky would have Sam 6 ft under by now. “Sam what the hell do you think you’re doing” Bucky almost growled. “Your not helping yourself so as your self proclaimed wing man I’m helping you out” Sam said in a teasing but kind way, with a sigh Bucky looked over to the women as the bartender served her another green cocktail. A look of confusion passed over her features but with a gesture of the bartender she looked over to Bucky. Without thinking Bucky gave a slightly awkward smile and small wave of his hand, which earned the most beautiful smile from the woman in Bucky’s opinion. “There’s your green light, go talk to her” Sam said nudge him with his elbow, sensing Bucky’s argument was bubbling up he added “or maybe I’ll go over there and talk to her” knowing it would send Bucky over there to ‘spite’ him.

His half drank whiskey abandoned next to Sam, Bucky made his way over to the other side of the bar to the redhead. “Um hi” Bucky greeted internally cringing at his own greeting, “Hi, thank you for the drink” she spoke with a smile in the sweetest voice Bucky heard in years. “James, but everyone calls me Bucky” Bucky introduced his self trying to channel that young man he was once before the war. “Dottie, nice to meet you Bucky” Dottie smiled again taking a sip of her drink. “Dottie that’s a lovely name, may I?” Bucky gestured to the empty barstool, “Please” Dottie nodded inviting him to sit by her. “What brings you out tonight?” Dottie asked kindly as Bucky joined her, “Honestly a friend of mine dragged me here” Bucky said with a bit of humor. “You’re not alone there, my friend the reason I’m here too. According to her it’s a crime to spend a Saturday night alone at home” Dottie said with a light laugh which made Bucky smile. “Well I hope your enjoying your Saturday night” Bucky said now leaning his human arm on the bar top, “I wasn’t, but I think I’m starting to” she said a bit flirtatiously which wasn’t lost by Bucky who sat up a bit straighter.

“So Bucky what do you usually do when you’re not being dragged around to bars” Dottie asked with humor, causing Bucky to clear his throat a bit before answering “Nothing much just work”. “Oh? What do you do for work” she asked setting down her drink resting her own hand next to his but not touching his. “Um government contracts” Bucky hesitantly answered unsure of what to call his work or scare her off, “a soldier?” Dottie asked gesturing with her hand not resting on the bar top to the dog tags hanging around Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, what about you?” Bucky said trying to take the topic off his work with Sam, “A librarian at the public library” Dottie said a bit shyly. “Is it safe to assume you like to read? What kind of books do you like?” Bucky asked with a smile, “Yeah I think that’s a safe assumption, I mostly find myself reading mysteries. What about you?” Dottie smiled eyes shining in interest. “Fantasy I guess, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit books like that” Bucky replied, “Oh so the classics” Dottie said. “Yeah the classics” Bucky said rubbing the back of his neck with his covered metal arm, ‘they were new when I read them’ Bucky thought to himself.

“So Bucky, what’s it take for you to ask a girl to dance?” Dottie smile gently moving her hand closer to his resting her fingers tips on his hand. “oh um… Would you like to dance?” Bucky asked trying to hide his nervousness not having danced since 1943, and now a beautiful woman in her late 20s early 30s wanting to dance with him. Bucky offered his human hand to her, “such a gentleman” Dottie smiled placing her hand in his offered one. Bucky led her to the dance floor ignoring the double thumbs up and goofy grin from Sam in the corner of his eye. Just as they reached the dance floor a new song started playing, Bucky recognized the song It’s been a long, long time by kitty kallen it was his younger sister favorite song. Still holding her smaller hand in his turning to her standing almost a whole head taller than her. He gently placed his covered metal hand on her mid back hoping she wouldn’t notice the cold metal through his jacket or glove, if she did she didn’t let it show as she placed her free hand on his shoulder with a smile and started to sway to the music with him. Bucky was a bit stiff in his movements but his body began to relax when her eyes met his, Bucky didn’t notice at first that they moved closer together but now their chest were slightly pressed together as they swayed to the music.

“This is nice” Dottie said softly almost afraid to break the slight trance they been in, Bucky just hummed in agreement earning another soft smile from her. Slowly Dottie rested her head on Bucky’s chest at first the action almost made Bucky panic, but he heard her hum along to the music calming him. Hesitantly Bucky rested his chin on the top of her head and received no negative response from the action he let himself forget his past for once and just enjoy this moment, continuing to sway and holding on to each other for two or three more songs. They finally pulled apart, Bucky led her back to her spot at the bar before letting go of her hand. “Thank you for the dance” Dottie said with a smile and a slight blush, “Anytime” Bucky smiled leaning a bit closer to her subconsciously. “I should get going I have work in the morning, But I had a lovely time with you. here” Dottie said grabbing a bar napkin and pulling a pen out of her purse writing something down and handing it to him, looking at the napkin he seen her name Dottie the ‘i’ dotted with a heart and under it was seven digits. “I’ll keep this safe” Bucky smiled as she smiled back and slowly made her way to the door. Bucky made his way back to where Sam stood at the other end of the bar, mentally preparing for Sam’s teasing and/or ‘I told you so’s.

~~~~~

Let me know what you think, one-shot or series?

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy.

#marvel #marvel avengers #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier

13 notes · View notes

outofcharacterproductions · 2 years ago

Text

Oh you get out your fiddle

then you get out your bow

take off your shoes and

you throw them on the floor

free meeeeeeeeeee

#Louisiana Saturday Night washer #if you know you know

42 notes · View notes

still-not-over-transformers · 1 year ago

Text

@kitgirl91 Request

I lost the original request message but I had a screeenshot :3

Ain’t I Good to You?

(TFA Blitzwing x Female Human Reader)

Warnings: None other than intense simping :3

Word Count: ... 2400+ (I got a tad carried away)

Lingo: “Cher” (pronounced ‘sha’) = Cajun term of affection/endearment

To those unfamiliar, Blitzwing’s 3 personalities are known as Icy, Hothead, & Random

Art courtesy of my beloved requester: @kitgirl91 BEHOLD THE TALENT

Inspiration for this request: The Mask Soundtrack - Susan Boyd - Gee Baby, Ain't I Good To You

The Decepticons had been promptly defeated at the hands of the Autobots, and brought back to Cybertron. Blitzwing was one of said Decepticons to be humiliated by being paraded through the streets of Cybertron as prisoners. But the Triple-changer would shortly make his escape and give the guard the slip, stealing a small ship and setting course for the only planet he knew had no Autobot activity anymore: Earth.

After entering stasis, a few months later Blitzwing would awaken after crash landing on Earth. This time however, Blitzwing would find himself not in New Detroit, but in good old New Orleans, Louisiana. The Decepticon didn’t want to attract too much attention to himself, and immediately searched for a place to hide, and or blend in with. As he still retained his Earth-based alt-modes as a jet or tank, he chose to sneak into a nearby river-side Air Force base. He transformed into his jet-mode as he tried to brainstorm a plan. He would remain there for a few months, having little idea on how to proceed further, and he went into a deep stasis nap. Blitzwing would be slowly awakened one Saturday night to music and an upbeat yet hauntingly beautiful voice. Blitzwing transformed to see a riverboat slowly cruising down the bayou, warm lights illuminating the water as upbeat music echoed across the river, and a sensual and hypnotic voice filled the night. It was a new experience for the Decepticon, and for the first time Blitzwing was silent and listened until the music and that voice faded into the distance.

The following week was uneventful as usual, Blitzwing growing evermore displeased that he lacked a plan. As the afternoon sun sailed across the sky, Blitzwing took note of a female human making their way through the airbase. This human caught his eye, as she was not dressed in the usual military uniforms of the soldiers or mechanics. Being in the back area of the base, and being utterly bored out of his mind, Blitzwing decided to have a bit of fun.

You made your way through an array of various military vehicles and aircrafts, all stunning and huge, dwarfing you easily. The air was growing cooler as an Autumn breeze blew through, making you clutch tighter at your coat. A loud clang rang out to the side and you struggled to see anyone through a lineup of various fighter jets and helicopters. Curiosity got the better of you and you stepped to the side to investigate, “Hello?” A rather large fighter jet was before you, but something was off about it as its coloring did not match any of the other similar models.

Suddenly the jet moved swiftly, lifting upright before transforming completely into a massive winged tan robot. Its face spun around rapidly, settling on a cool bluish face with a red optic and one monocle-like optic, staring down at you expectantly. Despite the shock, you just stood there calmly looking at him.

Blitzwing’s gaze was fixed upon you, raising an optic ridge in curiosity, “You are not afraid, human? How curious you’ve no concern for your own life.” Again, his faceplate spins violently, revealing the black faceplate and scarlet red crazed jack-o-lantern optics and mouth of Random. He cackles in an excited and mildly psychotic tone, “This human is crazy! I like crazy…” Round and round Blitzwing’s faceplate spins, now revealing Hothead, his bright red faceplate and optics glaring down at you. He aggressively moves towards you, his optics obscured by a visor, but the angry expression on his face was easily readable, “Are you working with ze Autobots, human?! That’s why you aren’t cowering in fear, isn’t it!?”

You raise your hands up in a gesture of innocence, hoping to convince the massive robot before you you weren’t any threat, “I have no idea what an ‘Autobot’ is. I’m not really sure what you are to be honest.”

“Why then are you not frightened of me? Do I look like I’d want to be friends with ze likes of you?” Icy said calmly, although in his mind he was genuinely intrigued by the fearless organic before him. Blitzwing’s face spun again, “OOOOOH Maybe we can make friendship bracelets!” Hothead took over and again, he spoke aggressively towards you, “What is a puny human like you even doing walking around in a military airbase?!”

You paused before explaining yourself, “Oh, well I was finishing up details regarding an upcoming job. Going to perform next month here to boost morale for the troops. Had to sign a bit of paperwork regarding my pay.”

The calm Icy took over and raised an optic ridge curiously, “Vat kind of performance?”

“I’m a Jazz singer. Not sure if you’d know what Jazz is, or music… but it’s my profession and most importantly my passion. I’m finally booking more gigs, last weekend was my first time performing on a riverboat. It was magical if I’m honest,” you spoke candidly, finding Blitzwing’s accent to be slightly adorable.

“Vait…” Icy glances over at the nearby river on the other side of the river-side airbase, “Zat was your voice I heard?”

You were taken aback, “You heard me? How long have you been hiding in this airbase?”

“...Long enough. Ze music was… acceptable. And your voice… wasn’t displeasing” Icy said slowly, perhaps giving you a hesitant compliment.

You smiled slightly, finding this strange giant robot to be rather endearing. “You know I will be performing this evening at “The Cat’s Meow” Jazz Club. It’s an outdoor venue, so you’re welcome to come if you’d like.” You extend your hand towards Blitzwing, a silver ticket stub in your grasp.

Icy took a pause, considering whether or not to accept the ticket, before Random took over and eagerly snatched the ticket from your hands. “How could ve refuse such an offer!” he chuckled excitedly.

You stepped back briefly as the ticket was taken from your hands, but you couldn’t help but smile, “I can see you aren’t one to pass a good time up. I should probably be on my way and get ready for the show. You know, I didn’t catch your name, cher?”

The Decepticon was shocked at how calm and comfortable you were around him, after all he was a battle-hardened warrior, killer and a giant robot, yet you showed him such courtesy as if he were just another human. “Oh… Blitzwing…” he replied hesitantly, feeling almost compelled to tell you.

“Well Blitzwing, if anyone gives you trouble at the door, cher, just tell them you’re a guest of (Y/N)” you flashed a sincere but slightly coy smile at the Decepticon before giving him a friendly wave of your hand and making your way off of the military base.

Blitzwing stood there in silent shock as you left, leaving him burning with multiple questions. “Cher? This word is strange” Icy pondered, a servo on his chin. His faceplate spun and Random took over, “Perhaps it’s a human word for cute!” Icy presented himself once more, staring at the ticket in his servo, your invitation still standing. He could just crush the ticket and be done withy it, but there was something about you…

Night fell on New Orleans, and the city came alive with lights, and hundreds of people flocking to the streets to enjoy various events and libations. High in the sky, Blitzwing hovered in jet-mode above the outdoor venue of “The Cat’s Meow.” After a bit of convincing himself, Blitzwing found the courage to land and enter the Jazz club. The bouncer at the door was definitely not expecting a Decepticon to attempt entry to the club, but he stood his ground and sweatily asked to see a ticket.

Usually, it would be Blitzwing’s instinct to blast the human into smithereens, but that would undoubtedly sour the mood for the evening. Instead he presented his silver ticket and spoke, “I am here upon ze request of (Y/N).” The doorman accepted the ticket hesitantly, before allowing the Decepticon entry into the club, but directing him to enter around to the outdoor section to spare the roof.

After making his way around, Blitzwing entered the outdoor space, which was an array of various tables covered in rich red linens. The area was illuminated by various lights wrapped around trellises and trees, a wooden stage centered at the back, the musicians settling into their positions. Blitzwing looked down at the table below him, awkwardly lowering himself into a sitting position behind the table, his massive frame still towering above it. Blitzwing couldn’t help but feel foolish being here to see a human perform, and it took hours of self-convincing earlier in order to get his aft here.

“I have no idea how I talked myself into this…” Icy grumbled, his arms crossed. “PLEASE! This is not ze craziest thing we’ve done by far!” Random cackled before going silent as the lights dimmed, leaving one blinding spotlight on center stage.

There you were, standing in the blinding glow of the spotlight. Your hair was down, but a delicate headpiece of beaded pearls adorned your forehead. Your dress was an ebony color, with a sensual sweetheart neckline and a short hem lined with glittering beads that cascaded from the hem. The ebony color was accentuated by the sparkle of thousands of tiny sequins, which reflected the spotlight and made you shimmer. You turned towards the band members behind you and gave them a nod, cueing them to begin playing a smooth yet upbeat Jazz number, the mood set by the sound of trumpets and a piano. You slowly took hold of the microphone and began singing, your voice sultry and alluring.

Blitzwing’s optics widened to a point where they nearly burst out of his skull, and his jaw unhinged and was wide open as he struggled to process how stunning you were. This was the same human he met at the airbase? Your voice, your lips, your legs, that dress were all enough to nearly fry his processor circuitry and drive him wild. His faceplate was spinning between all three personalities, each one absolutely shaken by everything about you.

“She’s like nothing I’ve ever seen…” Icy gawked, short of words.

“IT IS LIKE BEING GRACED WITH ZE PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL!” Hothead exclaimed, looking like he wanted to break something.

Random’s glossa was hanging out of his mouth, completely drunk off of your beautiful body and hypnotic voice.

The song continued, and you began to move around the stage, your hips moving in time with the beat. You dipped down to the ground, before slowly standing up, swishing your hips and waist as you ascended.

This sent Blitzwing over the edge, and Random loudly whistled at you, having quickly become a complete simp. Hearing the cat call, you turned your attention to see the Decepticon at his table. Continuing your set, you smiled in his direction before pointing to him and blowing a kiss.

Random took over and stood up, whistling even louder in adoration and worship of you, “Keep it UP BABY!”

The song slowly came to its final portion, albeit to Blitzwing’s dismay as he wanted this to go on forever. With a final breath, the last lyrics left your painted lips and the song concluded. The resounding sound of applause filled the club, the loudest clapping being from Blitzwing’s massive metal servos. As the rest of the club patrons applauded your performance, Blitzwing’s sharp optics spotted one human patron who wasn’t participating.

Hothead’s face spun around, steam visibly leaving his nostrils as he stomped over to the unsuspecting patron, startling the man, “YOU’D BETTER START CLAPPING BEFORE I MAKE YOUR INSIDES YOUR OUTSIDES!” The unsuspecting critic nearly jumped out of his skin and began clapping for his life.

As the cheers continued, audience members began tossing flowers onto the stage. Icy took note of this and began formulating a plan.

After you had made your way back to your dressing room, there was a firm knock at the door. Out of curiosity, you opened it to see who it was, only to be pleasantly surprised to see a certain Decepticon gazing back at you.

Blitzwing was blushing madly, especially being so close to you when you looked so beautiful. He cleared his throat, his faceplate spinning to Icy, trying to get the courage to speak to you. “Your show was… more than words than express. You are ze most talented and beautiful thing I have laid optics on. I got something for you” his voice was oddly shaky. He knelt down and revealed a massive bundle of roses and vines from behind his back, the flowers taking up a quarter of your dressing room. “I saw flowers are a sign of worship, so I brought you all ze flowers from the garden.”

You were stunned by the gift, it being obvious that Blitzwing had removed the roses from the nearby trellises. You tried to stifle a laugh and flashed the biggest grin, “That is mighty sweet of you, cher. To think you actually came to see me and shower me with so much praise.”

“You are a GORGEOUS LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. I WILL BREAK DOWN MOUNTAINS FOR YOU!” Hothead expressed passionately.

“Oh my…” you giggled, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” You stepped closer to the massive Decepticon before you, closing the distance. “For being so sweet, I think you deserve a little something as well,” your voice was charismatic and smooth. You leaned in closer to his faceplate, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

His faceplate spun around and around and around… for what seemed like an eternity. An excited and loud laugh escaped from Blitzwing’s mouth, Random’s optics wide and his spark beating rapidly. So many thoughts and feelings flashed through his processor that he felt he might explode, “I FEEL LIKE I’VE FLOWN TO ZE MOON AND BACK!” His optics turn back towards you and he suddenly calms himself, maybe a little worried he might frighten you. His faceplate reverts back to Icy and he clears his throat, “...ahem.. My apologies, sometimes I get carried away.”

Your smile widened, finding his antics to be endearing. “Don’t sweat it, cher. You’re more than welcome to come to any of my shows in the future,” you spoke softly. “Now why don’t you and I get out of here. Maybe let me show you around town?”

Blitzwing was in absolute awe. You, this tiny human female stealing every one of Blitzwing’s sparks.

Of course he took you up on your offer.

*END*

I had WAY too much fun with this request. :3 I pray it was worth the wait!

#transformers #transformers animated #transformers animated blitzwing #tfa blitzwing #tfa blitzwing x reader #tfa #transformers reader insert #transformers x reader #transformers x reader insert #transformers oneshot #transformers animated insert #tfa reader insert #blitzwing #transformers blitzwing #jazz

159 notes · View notes