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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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little situation | part 28.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, peter parker x black!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The Summer of Sarah Rogers:

The PR team successfully convinced Sam and Steve to let you get Twitter, just Twitter— Steve said you had to choose between Twitter and Instagram but not both. Because everyone on the team had Twitter but not everyone had Instagram, you ended up choosing the former. So far there wasn’t much on it, mainly pictures of you and Shuri from your trip to Wakanda. And to T’Challa’s detriment, you being allowed to have Twitter suddenly made Shuri feel the need to get one and Ramonda didn’t care so T’Challa being messed with by his younger sister and her friend was all over the Internet.

You were smart and knew not to show anything that revealed his Black Panther status since the world only knew that Wakanda was actually technologically advanced. You two also never went too far because T’Challa was still a world leader— however Shuri claimed the videos of her messing with him made him more personable, built him up like the people’s king. He saw right through that lie but didn’t say anything and just accepted his fate.

The interactions between you and the rest of the team were the public’s favorite and the PR team definitely encouraged it— you weren’t even sure if PR was necessary anymore considering everyone loved S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers but Tony assured you it was always smart to have them on deck. Anytime it was you, Steve, Sam, or Bucky interacting it had been dubbed the Star-Spangled Fam. And while you didn’t post anything officially or acknowledge people’s questions, the public noticed you and Peter’s replies on each other’s tweets.

It took all of three days from one person noticing you liking three of Peter’s tweets in a row for them to do some digging and see he was the same kid from the pictures at the juice bar. After that you started including him in the pictures you had instead of only Ned and MJ but you still didn’t say anything.

You were in the car with Steve and Tony while scrolling through your feed. You were being dropped off at an event at the Children’s Hospital while Steve and Tony were being taken to the UN meeting discussing the possibility of creating an official global Avengers Initiative program in attempts to find geniuses like you, Tony, and Bruce or enhanced like Steve, Pietro, and Wanda or just general badasses like Nat, Sam, and Clint. Even though you were going to the Children’s Hospital officially as Gemstone, the PR team had you dressed as Darling.

Normally you were all for the cutesy fashion but even this felt like slight overkill. It was a monochrome red look— they would’ve gone with blue since Steve’s stealth suit was a fan favorite but thought it’d be ironic because of your colorblindness and irony wasn’t the mood they were going for. The red bordered being more pink especially when it came to the large reddish pink hair clips and the tinted lip gloss they put on you.

“You’re staring awfully hard at that phone,” Tony commented.

“Hmm?”

“She’s not even listening.”

You finally looked up to see him and Steve staring back at you.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“You’re really in the teenager stage now, I said you’re staring hard at that phone. Does it involve Spiderling?”

“Not everything is about Peter… yes. I like this picture.”

You turned your phone to show Tony and Steve a picture of you and Peter hugging, him kissing the side of your head. Steve wanted to gag even if he wouldn’t say it. So he just nodded when Tony said it was cute.

“But it looks too romantic, I don’t think I can post it. But I like it.”

“You know you two don’t have to be quiet about it.”

“I know but he’s trying so hard to not be in the limelight as Spider-man, I don’t think being in it as my boyfriend is any better.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“No.”

Tony sighed and then turned to Steve. “You and your child have a serious overthinking problem and astonishingly large gap in communication skills. GI, here’s a suggestion, talk with Peter about it.”

You nodded and hopped out the car since the hospital was the closer stop.

“Her having a boyfriend is not something I think I can get used to.”

“Welcome to no longer being the number one man in her life.” Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Tony.”

“Hmm?”

“Not funny.”

“Family Meeting!” You yelled into the house.

Bucky and Sam walked in, confused. Steve was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes since you disturbed his nap. You waited till all three of them were sitting down on the couch and looking at you.

“I think Dad should change his uniform. He needs a star on it like the rest of us. Since Uncle Jamie’s is on his left arm, mine is on the back, and Dheaidí’s is the chest I think you should put it on your right arm. It’ll be like a connected path.”

“I like it,” Steve said through a yawn.

“Of course you like it.” Sam gave Steve a kiss but agreed to the uniform addition.

You smiled and walked out satisfied.

Summer meant protective styling. But you also were changing up your hair because it was too hot to be doing it constantly, yesterday having to do it for the hospital visit confirmed that. You were doing single braids with no extensions now that your hair had gotten longer. Sam had the products set up on the couch in the apartment living room— you guys would’ve taken the common room but Nat had already set up and both of you decided against disturbing her.

“National Geographic?” Sam asked as you set down the remote.

“I like nature documentaries. I’m not all science, Dad.”

“Okay, Sarah,” Sam said in the same funny, partially whiney, tone that you did.

Sam had just finished detangling your hair and separating it into four large sections when your phone rang. The screen flashed to a picture of Peter pulling the ugliest face, making Sam chuckle a bit when he saw it. You answered and put it on speaker.

“Hello, Peter Parker.”

“Hey. They just opened up a new roller rink near Midtown last week, you wanna come? I’ll be at the compound in a few minutes.”

“Dad’s doing my hair.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll just come up.”

You and Sam laughed.

“He’s braiding it. Five-ish hours.”

“Five?! What… can I still come over?”

“If you want, I mean you have a room here anyway.”

“But I’m coming to see you.”

You felt flustered and didn’t know what to say with your dad in the room so you made a little noise of agreement and hung up on him. It was only maybe ten minutes late that Peter came strolling into the apartment, saying hi to Sam while taking off his shoes at the door. Peter sat down next to you, shoulders touching. Sam bit back the urge to laugh or comment, you two were so quiet now that he was there— as if he and Steve didn’t hear the way you two could talk each other’s ears off when alone.

“Do you want to still go when my hair’s done?”

“It’s usually pretty packed at that point.”

“Someone might see, well maybe tomorrow?”

Peter nodded. At some point he got more comfortable with Sam being there and slumped a little more next to you. By hour three, he didn’t care anymore and fully laid down. Peter’s head was in your lap as Sam continued to do your hair. Once you were done, you and Peter decided to just have a date in your room instead since the roller rink was going to be crowded now.

“Door open,” Sam said as you walked off.

“I know,” you groaned, exasperated. It was more of a joke between you and Sam.

You had gotten tired of him, Steve, and Bucky constantly telling you guys to keep the door open. Not because of the door itself but the phrase and its reasoning had started to grate on your nerves. So after training one morning as a family, you sat the three men down at the dinner table. They were both relieved and traumatized as you recounted every single time you and Peter had kissed, yet to make out, or hugged or held hands and the two times he had his hand in your back pocket because you guys saw it in Sixteen Candles and thought it was cute. Bucky was the most flustered, not wanting to know the details of his niece’s dating life.

“Besides, if we did start being active, I’d ask you to take me to the clinic to switch to an IUD or the patch.”

Bucky left the room, thanking the heavens that he wasn’t obligated as a parent to still be a part of the conversation. You looked at Sam and Steve who had yet to talk. This wasn’t exactly how they planned to have “the talk” with you.

“I mean I don’t take the pill at the same time every day, who can honestly, and that’s fine now for periods but clearly not the effective method for actual birth control.”

“Well, Babydoll,” Steve said measured. “Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to discuss with us.”

“Mmm hmm…” you pulled out your phone that started to ring. “Ned? Where are you and Pete? Don’t finish it without me!”

Sam and Steve watched you jump from the chair and run into your room to get changed, telling them something about a mechanics project.

After that they stopped saying doors open seriously, but sometimes Sam joked around just to bug you. Peter watched you press a button on your back shower wall that he hadn’t seen before.

“Is that a projector?”

“Yeah, I put it in a couple months ago. So much safer than using my iPad. Sit, I’ll get the stuff.”

“I always forget that your bathtub is surprisingly comfortable,” Peter said as you came back in.

You handed him the comforter and pillow to start getting comfortable while you lit your favorite candles and turned off the lights. You pulled the comforter over you both once you got in.

“FRIDAY, start the movie please.”

“Of course, Sarah.”

You snuggled up to Peter as much as humanly possible. He could feel your eyes on him for longer than just a couple seconds and looked down at you.

“You’re thinking of something,” he observed.

“I was just… would you mind if we, um, told people about us? Like publicly? I know you don’t want to be as out there like the rest of the team.”

“As Spider-Man. But I don’t mind being your boyfriend, I’m pretty sure they’ve already figured it out anyway.”

“You really don’t mind? You can tell me no.”

“It’s cool with me.”

“Yeah?” You stretched your neck slightly to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Where are you three going?” Nat asked from the common room kitchen, making everyone else turn.

You, Thor, and Bruce were dressed to go out. You guys weren’t trying to be sneaky on the way out but you weren’t exactly making your presence known.

“Uncle Thor and Uncle Bruce leave for their mission tomorrow so we’re going out.”

Thor puffed up his chest proudly. “We are taking Little Lady Sarah to Target.”

The entire team straight-faced. Sam spoke up first.

“Target? Like the store… am I missing something?”

“You guys have never taken him to one! It’s like a Midgardian Classic, second to Shake Shack. Ooh, we should go to Shake Shack!”

Thor lifted you up in agreement. The team watched as you, Bruce, and Thor left— clearly Bruce was the driver. They still couldn’t believe what they had just heard, Tony questioning who the hell thought Target was a farewell outing. You got there and each of you grabbed a cart. You proudly displayed Steve’s credit card that you swiped from his wallet.

After seeing the card, Bruce declared he was snitching— Steve just sighed and let it happen. You and Thor set rules, each individual item couldn’t be more than twenty dollars otherwise who knows how expensive the cart could get. Bruce was the official timer, you and Thor had six minutes to put whatever in your cart that you thought the other person would enjoy.

Steve shook his head as you came back with large bags and the milkshake from Shake Shack in your hands. You sheepishly handed him his credit card back, feeling a lot less bold returning it in person— you could’ve used yours but it still had a limit on it since you were a highschooler and you didn’t know how much it would be. As an apology you gave Steve the money back from your account and handed him a shake, slightly melted.

“Once more before I leave?” Thor asked as he held out the Mjolnir.

“No, no, no Thor! Sarah!”

Neither of you listened and Steve watched you once again be pulled rather violently through the air by Mjolnir. Despite your shouts of joy, Steve couldn’t see how you were having a good time at all.

“You know you kind of scare my friends, Uncle Jamie?” you asked as you worked on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky looked at you in a little bit of surprise.

“You scowl a lot.”

That made Bucky laugh because he knew that was true. Scowl was a permanent feature on his face when resting. Anyone that saw him in the comforts of the compound knew otherwise but even his social media didn’t have many smiling pictures so no one else even believed it.

“It’s Ned isn’t it?” Bucky questioned with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It could be MJ, you don’t know.”

“I’ve met MJ. I know she’s not afraid of me.”

“Just maybe don’t do the arm thing around him.”

You closed the top panel around the shoulder area and moved towards the wiring in the forearm. Any time you worked on his arm, you liked to change the color of the casing around each wire just because. You started to swap out the red ones for yellow, making new notes as to what they connected to and meant.

“I do the arm thing to scare your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. Peter lowkey won’t put his arm anywhere near my waist if you’re in the same room. It’s like a Pavlovian response every time he hears the plates clicking.”

“Perfect.” Bucky smiled, slowly nodding his head.

“That’s not… well it makes Ned almost piss himself every time, can you maybe back off just a little bit?”

“Of course, little doll. I’m not trying to scare your friends.”

“Thank you, Uncle Jamie.” You closed the paneling and you both left the lab.

Per MJ’s request, you, Ned, and Peter found yourself at some coffee shop to listen to the slam poets. MJ wasn’t there really to enjoy the poetry but to watch the people in the audience’s miserable faces whenever a bad poet came on. The shop had those large, vintage fabric armchairs, ottomans, and couches. The four of you had large mugs of coffee drinks— except for Ned who couldn’t get past the taste, even of your sweeter coffee drinks that you chose.

Your head was on MJ’s shoulder instead of Peter since you two chose to share the big armchair and mismatched ottoman. He looked over every so often as you intently watched the stage and MJ intently watched the crowd. Even when the open mic ended and you guys were just walking the streets of New York aimlessly, you were arm in arm with MJ.

“Peter’s sulking!” Ned announced.

“Ned! I’m not…”

“Are you upset I stole your girlfriend?” MJ looked back to where Ned and Peter were a few steps behind.

You smiled and continued walking with MJ until you reached the crosswalk where you switched with Peter.

“You said I could come to you for whatever I can’t tell Dheaidí,” you said as you watched the cows graze in the open field.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Clint asked.

“How do you get a boy to kiss you? Like kiss you kiss you.”

Clint choked. “Um, you just go for it I guess. Do I even want to know where this is coming from?”

“I think Peter’s afraid to kiss me. Only pecks. I mean I like it but I want a kiss, you know?” You stressed the word kiss.

“He’s probably worried you’ll think he’s a bad kisser.”

“But he’s my Peter I won’t thi— what if he thinks I’m a bad kisser?!”

Clint looked at you and then out at the cows. He rang the bell so they could start coming in from the field.

“Yep, that’s enough teenager for this morning,” Clint muttered to himself as he watched the cows come in.

“I can still hear you.”

“Take out the hearing aids and I’ll say it again.”

“Ugh, ru—”

Clint smiled at you as he took out his hearing aids. You both laughed and he threw an arm over your shoulder as you guys walked back to the house where Lila and Cooper had just woken up, ready for breakfast. No one else had come to the farm but you.

You wanted time with the first extended family that ever made you feel welcome. So you were spending a few days at the farm and then Clint was coming with you back to the compound for his actual job. Cooper and Lila finally convinced you to play baseball again, you were absolutely terrified to try at first despite having a handle on your strength.

Pietro and Wanda were not Steve’s kids— more Clint’s— but they were a hundred percent your siblings. Pietro was testing you and Wanda’s powers, seeing if you guys could catch the forks he threw as he threw them a little faster each time. Your detection of vibrations was getting stronger. Ever since learning how to harden certain parts of your body on command, you realized that adding an extra relatively visible layer of diamond on your feet caused you to react to the vibrations quicker. The sound waves bounced off of rock instead of absorbing into soft skin and you heard/felt the echo quicker.

“You think you can pick up if the vibration is me knocking over other sounds?” Pietro asked.

“Sounds like what?” He piqued your interest.

“Like loud music or lots of people talking?”

“Let’s try it. FRIDAY, play loud and Nicki Minaj or Missy Elliott please.”

It was harder with the bass practically radiating through the floor. But you and the twins were enjoying the challenge. Pietro knocked in various styles to try and throw you off, forcing you to really focus on which were his knocks versus the music.

“Ha, I win!” Pietro said as the last fork hit you in the forehead when you turned too slow.

“Only because you knock a fraction of a second slower than you should’ve, cheater.”

“I did no such thing! You’re just slower than the speed of sound.”

“The sound of your knock travels faster than the fork so it’s definitely your fault.”

“Nope, not how it works. You’re just slow.”

“Not how… that is exactly how it works. Wanda?”

You laughed as she lifted her brother into the air. Clint came downstairs to see you two laughing and then looked above him to see Pietro in mild distress and waving at him.

“Uncle Clint, tell Pietro he’s a cheater.”

Clint looked up again. “Uh, Pietro you’re a cheater.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“You’re right and I don’t want to.”

He walked over and hi-fived you before getting what he came into the common room for and leaving again. Eventually, Wanda set Pietro down after he promised to cook for you two if she set him down and you admitted he was the winner and didn’t cheat. While the two of you went to the couch, Pietro picked up the fork from the floor.

“Hey, Doll. Think fast.”

You caught it without even looking.

“I’m not—”

“My doll,” Pietro mimicked you. “I know.”

Bucky and Sam had left on a mission separate from Steve who was with Wanda. It was one in the morning when he slipped back into the apartment before he heard the crying. Steve raced to your room, already knowing that was the source of the sound. You didn’t hear him come in, the hearing aids resting on your nightstand— and you were so in your own head, you weren’t straining to hear him or feel the vibrations as Steve entered the room.

He sat down across from you on the bed and when you saw his face, you bit down on your fist and looked away at the curtain drawn window. Steve watched you shake your head. The light from the lamp made the tears rolling down your face glisten. He gently reached for your hand. Noticing the stuffed animal had fallen onto the floor, Steve leaned over and picked it up to place back in your hands. You grabbed a single hearing aid and put it in. When Steve still didn’t speak you looked at him.

What’s wrong, doll? Steve asked.

It’s stupid. Forget it, Dheaidí, just stupid.

You’re crying. Whatever it is isn’t stupid.

You sighed and shook your head. Steve knew you weren’t going to talk, not right away. He told you he’d be right back and you heard the clatter of cabinets and cooking ware. Normally tea was your thing but Steve felt a good old-fashioned hot chocolate was needed.

He came back with the two big mugs, setting yours in your hand and his on the nightstand, before heading to your little vanity. Steve knew where everything was considering he was usually the one you directed to organize things if new packages of whatever you ordered were delivered while you were away on a mission.

“I know this is really you and Buck’s thing but I think I can be a decent substitute,” Steve said as he placed the candle in the candle warmer you recently bought— well Thor picked it up from the Target adventure.

He put on the masks with you and sipped the drinks until it was time to take them off. You cracked a smile when Steve purposely slurped loudly, getting whipped cream on his newly growing in mustache-beard combo. You did the same and then the two of you took a picture that he sent to Sam.

“Babydoll…”

“I thought I was over it.”

“Over what, Sarah?”

“You should be asleep right now Dheaidí. I should wake up and be happy to see you… WHY AM I SO DUMB?”

Steve set down his drink and pulled you close to him. “Woah, woah woah. Babydoll, you’re not dumb. Why would you be dumb for… is this because the mission was longer than I told you?”

“I wanted to prove I’d be fine. You guys don’t always have to call because I’m worried.”

“Sarah, we call because the entire team understands that you—”

“I shouldn’t though! I’m sixteen, I shouldn’t still have separation issues… it’s like HYDRA still controls me, Dheaidí, I just wanted to be strong, like you,” you whispered the last part.

Steve rubbed your shoulder. “You’re sixteen, you don’t have to be strong. Sarah, honey, be honest with me. How many nights have you stayed up crying since I left?”

“After the second day of it running long.”

Steve continued to rub circles on your shoulder. That meant you had been crying for five nights in a row. You had told him that he didn’t have to call— that no one on the team had to call. He had hesitated but you insisted on it because you wanted them to stop feeling obligated to call you, especially because it wasn’t lost on you that sometimes the team would put themselves in less than safe areas or situations in order to be able to call you.

“Call me, okay? If you ever start to get worried about us on a mission, I don’t care what’s going on, you call me.”

You nodded and sniffled. Steve pulled back so he could look at you. Holding your face in both hands, Steve wiped at your tears with his thumbs. He pulled the corners of your mouth into a little smile before he let go.

There’s my sweet girl.

You almost knocked the wind out of Steve as you hugged him tight again.

“I couldn’t stop thinking you weren’t coming back. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back.”

“I’m always coming back to you, Babydoll.”

Steve waited until your sobs had turned into a soft snore. He set you back into a good sleeping position, tucking you in, and turned off the lamp. Steve walked out to finally change out of his suit and go to bed himself. It wasn’t the most peaceful sleep. It was too light as if he was listening still in his sleep for any sound of you in distress.

You, Ned, Peter, and MJ were laying out in the front yard of the compound. You guys were having a painting picnic. You had enjoyed the session at the paint studio, having gone back a couple times, but you wanted less of a classroom vibe. The canvases were drying off to the side and the four of you were talking. Ned was going on about a classic movie he had seen.

Peter was leaning back, resting on his hands, while you had your head in his lap. You all laughed when Ned had to backtrack after realizing he forgot a major plot point in his summary for you guys. Peter sat up a little to drum his fingers along your shoulder. His hands lightly brushed your braids before he pulled back.

“Oh, can I touch your hair?” he asked, slightly flustered.

You nodded. “Yeah, Pete. I don’t mind if you want to play with my hair.”

Peter was very gentle with your braids. He enjoyed just moving them around. Towards the end of Ned’s very long summary, he had yet to get to his actual review, Steve had come outside.

“You kids having a good time?”

“Yeah, Dheaidí,” you said at the same time the other three said ‘Yes, Mr. Wilson-Rogers’.

“Where are you going?” You asked, noticing Steve was dressed business casual but had his shield with him.

“Small S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting I need to leave for in a couple minutes but I was told someone wanted to throw the shield?”

Ned’s eyes were the size of dinner plates as Steve handed the shield to him. Steve turned Ned to face the open field and showed him the very basic of how to hold it and throw. He heard you talking to your friends about it one afternoon and didn’t think it would be too much of a bother to let the kid try it once.

Ned’s throw didn’t get very far at all but he thought it was awesome and you guys cheered him on anyway. Steve grabbed his shield from the grass and jogged off to leave for the meeting while Ned now started to go on about the throw.

Sam could feel the waves of insecurity coming off of Steve like heat waves in the desert. He noticed it earlier in the morning when he was redoing a couple of the braids around the perimeter of your head but brushed it off thinking it was because the man just woke up. Then Sam noticed it again when MJ came over that afternoon and you two were in the living room watching Sister, Sister. You were dancing to the theme song while he, Steve, and Bucky were filling out mission reports at the dining room table. Sam jokingly said something to which the two of you replied with the classic: Go away, Roger. Making the three of you laugh and then laugh even harder when you remembered your last name was Rogers.

And then Steve was quiet all dinner, which for him wasn’t normal at all. You had been talking about your visit to your mom’s side of the family and hanging out with Aunt Taylor. You mentioned the cookout and Sam started to tell stories about his own family gatherings over the years. He paused mid-thought.

“We haven’t had one in a couple years, should call up my brother about that. Ooh, they’re gonna run their mouths. ‘You got married, got a kid and still ain’t find it necessary to come see us. I see how it is Samuel.’ That’s my mama by the way, she really sounds like that.”

“We should go!”

“They’re going to fawn over you sweetheart… even though you’re too damn spoiled as it is,” Sam joked.

“You call it spoiled, I call it bougie, Dad.” You flipped your hair, making Sam snort.

“What do you think, babe? We spoil her too much or is she living her best life?”

“Does Dheaidí even know what bougie is?” you laughed.

Steve laughed with the two of you but didn’t engage much in conversation. And he stayed quiet after that and well into the evening until you had gone downstairs because Peter was staying at the compound that week and he and Sam were on the couch.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Sam finally asked.

“Hmm?”

“You’re moping. You’ve been moping all day.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair before leaning against the couch, not really looking Sam in the eye.

“Am I a good parent?”

“Steve, what? Why would you even ask that?”

“I feel like I’m holding Sarah back. You can relate to her so much and she has Elise’s family now that she connects to… I’m just never going to fully understand her experience and I think I might’ve been, what’s the thing you guys were talking about, white-washing her? Shit, Elise could’ve done so much better than me.”

“Okay, one, take a breather. Two, yeah you’re right, you’ll never fully get what it’s like for her. But you are the best dad she could have. The way you try so hard proves it, you took a day just to drive to DC for her to go to the African American Museum because it was the Smithsonian one. I’ve never seen a search history more dedicated to how to do hair or every little thing Sarah says. That kid’s yours in all her blonde hair brown skin glory and she always goes to you first. You’re a good dad, Steve. No one thi—”

“Dheaidí!” you yelled as you stomped back into the apartment, blanket wrapped around you. “Tell Uncle Tony to stop sending my boyfriend on missions when we’re cuddling!”

You pouted and purposely walked with heavy footsteps to the couch, sitting in between your dads and flopping over Steve dramatically— your feet and face were the only parts of you visible out of the large blanket that they could tell was Peter’s. Sam gave him a face of ‘I told you so’. Steve looked down at you to see your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. Sam flicked your forehead, which made you poke your tongue out at him, and left the living room. You still hadn’t moved, sighing loudly.

“Dheaidí?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to get Peter Parker to kiss me,” you said with such determination.

“I’m sure you are, Babydoll.” Steve said, not nearly as enthusiastic as you, as he poked your cheek.

“Next time Uncle Tony interrupts, I’m gonna kick his butt.”

“I’ll hold him down for you.”

“Dheaidí?”

“Yes, Sarah?”

“I love you, I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

That made Steve truly smile for the first time that entire day.

“I love you too, Babydoll.”

“Dheaidí! Fight me!” You were a little too pumped as you entered the training room.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

Steve really only fought with Bucky otherwise he used the bots, they could withstand a punch that could potentially knock out the teeth or bruise a rib of other teammates. You grabbed his forearm as he tried to hit the punching bag, stopping him. Of course the rest of the team stopped what they were doing to see if Steve would give in. You didn’t fight with most of them either for the same reasons as Steve. Bucky didn’t mind sparring with you because he had already been doing so since you were younger.

“I’m tired of the bots and Uncle Jamie pulls punches.”

“Babydoll…”

“Please. Or are you afraid you’ll lose?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. Bucky hadn’t been paying attention the whole time because he was sure Steve would say no but the minute you taunted him, Bucky’s head shot up because his friend couldn’t say no to a challenge. Steve knew he was taking the bait but you both were petty and he didn’t care. You smiled and got in the ring as he started taking the wraps off of his hands.

“Don’t worry old man, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Old man?”

“I’d feel bad severely beating the elderly.”

The others tried not to laugh.

“I want you to know I have no problem beating children. How old are you?”

“Sixteen?”

“Then I’m sixteen too, let’s go kid.”

You had to use a mix of strategy since Steve did beat you when it came to brute strength. You had been retested against his scores and were now one-third of his. It was clear that his serum jacked DNA still worked like normal genetics. You would only get up to half of his scores once you reached your peak but considering it was half of something super-human, you would still be remarkably powerful.

After you had hit him hard twice, Steve stopped pulling punches like Bucky. You started hardening your skin in the exact areas he punched with the visible diamond layer, not just defending yourself but actually making it a little painful for him when he hit you. Steve realized he’d have to hit twice in a single punch so you couldn’t predict where the second one would land and create the extra hard casing. You made one misstep and Steve knocked you flat on your back. You coughed and held your hands straight in the air, wiggling them a bit.

“Told you I got no problem beating children,” he said, jokingly as he helped pull you up. “You okay, Babydoll?”

The smile on your face told him you were absolutely fine.

“That was fun, let’s do it again.”

Steve reluctantly agreed to add sparring with you at least once a week to training.

Steve nearly had a heart attack when he woke up to see your face looming over him.

“Happy Birthday, Dheaidí… move over.”

“How are you the bossy one on my birthday?” Steve said as he sat up and moved onto Sam’s side of the bed that he realized was empty.

“How does it feel to technically be a century? What age are you supposed to be? Do you put that you’re in your thirties on forms or your actual age? Because I would put the technicality, get all the senior citizen discounts. 100, that’s wild, Dheaidí. You’re old,” you said as you got on the bed.

“Uncle Tony wanted a big party but I said we should wait till you pass 100. So we’re having a barbecue in the backyard. But Ms. Jessica said you still have to do the Skype calls with CNN and CSPAN. And you have to post a picture, so…”

Steve groaned forgetting he still had to do work on his birthday and even though he couldn’t control his birth he was really hating being born on Independence Day. You grabbed his phone on the nightstand and typed in the password— it wasn’t that hard to guess considering it was his wedding date. Flipping to the front camera, you made Steve pose and took a selfie with him. He watched you edit the lighting and colors of the picture as if you took it in an actual studio and not his bedroom before you passed him the phone so he could post it on Twitter with some lame caption you always made fun of him for.

Bucky and Sam came in with trays of food. Bucky wanted to put ninety-nine candles on Steve’s birthday pancakes but Sam wouldn’t let him so he settled for the sparklers instead and throwing confetti at Steve’s face before sitting down. The four of you ate breakfast in bed and spent the better part of the morning celebrating Steve’s birthday as the small family you were before the huge barbecue. It wasn’t huge because Tony invited the entire city. Instead it was because your mother’s side of the family was invited and Sam’s family came over too.

Steve was truly having a good time as everyone ate and played around before the fireworks started. Your Aunt Taylor sent him the picture that she took of you, him, Sam, and Bucky at his request. It was the first posed photo the four of you actually took as a family. He made it his new lock screen, the home screen being the photo of you and him with the hot chocolate.

Sam, Steve, and Bucky watched you from the table stroll back into the apartment for breakfast humming something a little too chipper for the early time of day. You did ballet as best as you could, trying not to slip in your socks against the hardwood, while grabbing two bowls and some spoons. Steve peeped the outfit first as you went to the fridge to get milk for cereal.

“Babydoll.”

“Yes?”

“Where’d you get the hoodie?”

“It’s Peter’s.”

“I’m gonna regret asking,” Steve muttered to himself before directing his attention back to you. “Were you in Peter’s room the whole night?”

“Yeah. We have to watch all of Attack on Titan before the new season comes out, you know. It’s more fun on his laptop than the TV. I’m running on like two hours of sleep but worth it.”

“You slept there?” Sam asked.

Bucky already started packing up his stuff, ready to dart out the minute he sensed it going someplace he didn’t like.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Please tell me you two were safe, at least—”

“Oh, God, Dad, no!” You took your cereal and started to leave. “Remember when I said I’d ask you to take me to a clinic.”

“Well we know that it could suddenly feel awkward or that you might feel like we’d judge you. But no one’s judging, you can make decisions,” Steve started. “But we want you to still feel like you can—”

“Dad, Dheaidí! Hasn’t even touched a boob, I’m a virgin, just fine being a virgin…”

The door opened and Peter came in. He didn’t bother with house slippers since he wasn’t staying for long, you were just supposed to get cereal so you guys could continue the marathon. You didn’t even turn around knowing they could see that Peter didn’t have a shirt on considering you were wearing the matching hoodie to his sweatpants.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mr. Wilson-Rogers. Morning Mr. Barnes,” Peter said as he grabbed the second bowl from you, completely oblivious to what was going on.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky said, now enjoying the awkward atmosphere that had just been created.

“On God it’s too early for this,” you said with a sigh.

You stabbed the cereal with your spoon, aggressively taking a bite, and walked out of the apartment. Peter looked at you walking away and then at your dads. Steve just held a hand up, shaking his head. Peter opened his mouth to ask something and then decided against it and followed you out of the apartment.

Peter picked up his phone the moment your face appeared on the screen.

“Happy birthday! I’m sorry I’m not there.” You frowned.

You had a mission that you had to go on and knew that by the second day there was no way you’d make it back for Peter’s birthday. So you waited by the phone until it turned midnight and FaceTimed Peter.

“I’m giving you the biggest birthday kiss when I get back.”

“You’re the best girlfriend ever.”

“Because I have the best boyfriend ever.”

You listened to Peter talk about what he was going to do for the day, including MJ and Ned taking him out. Peter loved to stay up and more importantly wasn’t on a mission so he was talking animatedly. But slowly you had stopped answering as enthusiastically and your eyes stayed closed for longer and longer until he noticed you had fallen asleep. Peter smiled at the phone, taking a screenshot, and then whispering goodnight to you before hanging up the phone.

“You gotta admit, they’re kind of cute,” Steve said as he and the others headed towards the pool area outside where you and Peter already were. He wouldn’t admit it, at the risk of sounding too old-fashioned and a hovering parent, but he was glad to see you were in a one-piece.

“Young love. Disgustingly sweet,” Clint muttered making the team laugh.

They watched as you and Peter were tangled up with each other on the concrete despite the pool chairs behind you two— he was sitting cross-legged, you in his lap facing him, also cross-legged but with one stretched out and wrapping around him. He was leaning back on his hands. You had the bowl of fruit that Bucky had been looking for before giving up and coming downstairs with the others in your lap. The two of you were joking about something, pieces of fruit in both hands and your head thrown back mid-laughter— the large bun on top of your head bobbing back and forth.

Peter took the tangerine slice you fed him. His hands grabbed yours now that they were free and you two were just swinging them back and forth as you talked. You suddenly frowned and tapped at your hearing aids before taking them out and looking at them. The team saw how you didn’t put them back in, you must’ve forgotten to charge them. Peter adjusted himself to sit up straighter.

All over. Some of it got in my mouth and honestly key lime pie isn’t that bad… He had surprisingly good aim in fourth grade.

The adults smiled as Peter seamlessly switched to signing and so did you. He didn’t have to, considering you were sitting literally on him and facing him so you could read his lips as well. Peter took another tangerine slice that you fed him as he moved on to a different story from elementary and middle school. You pecked him on the lips, tasting the bit of juice that was on his bottom lip. You didn’t back away from him completely. Both of you were too nervous to move.

“You think either one’s gonna do it?” Wanda asked. The others shook their heads in varying degrees of intensity.

Peter’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding the wrist of his other. He leaned in closer until his mouth was on yours. Peter’s lips tasted like the tangerines you had been eating. It started off a little awkward, both of you trying to figure out the correct placement of your lips, before finding something you both liked. Peter removed one of his hands from around your back and used it to tilt your chin up a little bit.

“No tongue!”

Clint shouted causing Peter to jump back, face red. You turned your head in the direction he was looking and saw the others at the doorway, smiling at his expense. You realized they had just seen the two of you making out and buried your face in the crook of his neck. The others broke from their trance of giggling by the large glass doors and came outside to enjoy the pool like they wanted to. Peter leaned his head down so his mouth was by your ear.

“That wasn’t a bad kiss was it?” he asked in a tentative whisper.

“No, I liked it… I wasn’t a, uh, bad kisser was I?”

“Unh-unh,” Peter said while shaking his head.

Nat took the pool chair right behind you and Peter to lounge in the sun and tan. Pietro and Bucky strolled over first to grab some fruit out of the bowl.

I’m hot, you signed, dramatically.

Want to swim? Peter asked.

You set the bowl down and got off of him, pulling him to his feet with all your strength on purpose. You picked Peter up and carried him to the pool, throwing him in. He appeared from out of the water, wiping it from his face and brushing his hair back.

You know I’m getting you back right?

You jumped into the pool before he could do anything. Peter just smirked at you and you didn’t know why but definitely felt like something was off. You were in the part of the pool where if you dropped from your toes your nose would be under the water. You were about to so you could pick up a vibration from the concrete, thinking something was off. But right before you dropped, you were lifted into the air and thrown, landing behind your attacker with a splash. You popped back up to see your traitor of a father hi-fiving your traitor of a boyfriend.

Dheaidí!

Sorry, doll. Steve smiled before swimming off.

I don’t like you anymore, Peter Parker, you signed with an eye-roll.

I still like you anyway. He swam up to you and pulled you closer.

Want to get my dad back?

You and Peter swam up to Steve and splashed him in the face.

(Part 29)...

#steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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thesunlounge · 5 years

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Reviews 300: Private Agenda

Throughout 2019, Private Agenda have been crafting imagined landscapes…these dream renderings of paradise islands surrounded by boundless oceans, with sparkling blue waters crashing against white sand shores, coconut trees blowing in a warm seabreeze, and exotic flowers releasing strange perfumes that push the mind towards bliss. Having graced Lo Recordings’ Spaciousness compilation last year, the duo of Sean Phillips and Martin Aggrowe have united again with the label for an ambitious project of sonic fantasy, which started this summer with the Aura EP, a digitally released collection comprising four pitch-perfect pop numbers, a couple of which now rank among my very favorite Private Agenda tracks (which is saying something considerable). The EP sees the duo’s lyrical and production work hitting an apex, with their vocalizations touching on the sensual and the futuristic as gentle layers of sci-fi studio trickery caress every turn of phrase. And musically, we are treated to etheric synth-pop starscapes, krautrock hypno-glides, and neon new wave propulsions that exude an irresistible sense of melancholia...a brief yet masterful pop adventure and a high point for both Aggrowe and Phillips. But beyond this, the EP serves another purpose: as an opening chapter to an immersive story called Île de Rêve, which is a less a traditional album and more so a “series of transcendental reminiscences surrounding the cult of islands.”

Private Agenda are no strangers to balearic ambiance and touches of mystical seaside magic kiss most of their work, most specifically the (almost) beatless ethereality of their Primary Colours EP from 2017. But even given these tendencies towards new age textures and floating atmospherics, I am still blown away by Île de Rêve’s total dedication to surreal environments of cosmic aquatic wonder. The duo’s well-honed pop sensibilities are completely subsumed, with Phillips and Aggrowe instead using synthesizers, pianos, and the barest semblance of voice to transport the listener to the titular island of dreams. At times it feels like we are on land, pushing toes through warm sand as seabirds fly overhead, gazing over the horizon during a summer storm, or exploring the interior of the island…its gemstone caverns, crystalline streams, and flower fields exuding atmospheres of pastoral prog romance. Other times we are swimming in the waters off shore, joining in with the fluid movements of dolphins or exploring the mysteries of coral reef universes. In the album’s liner notes, Private Agenda talk about the peculiar paradox of growing up on an island…”a sense of isolation tempered by a strong sense of place.” And so it goes with the music: the introspective ambient sonics pull the spirit inward and invite reflection while simultaneously carrying the imagination towards a well-defined location…a tropical island in an ocean of dreams.

By August, I had spent several weeks with Aura and Île de Rêve and was preparing to write a piece on both when, much to my surprise, Private Agenda dropped The Space Between Swells, a digitally released remix EP featuring seaside sound masters Max Essa and Mark Barrott. Essa takes on the title track from Aura, and flips what is already a pop masterpiece into a stunning adventure of beachside dance ecstasy, one that proceeds across an extended vocal take and a heady dub disco fever dream. Then there’s Barrott, who elongates and transforms Île de Rêve’s “Sea Life” into a utopic slice of balearic beat…an early morning nature dance anthem built from deep dub atmospheres, underwater bass bubbles, liquid guitar textures, aqueous synthwaves, and angelic vocal repetitions (which is then backed by a dub and a narcotic accapella version that revels in the spirituality of silence). When I first learned Essa and Barrott were the remixers, I was as excited as I was unsurprised, for the two are natural choices to take on the narcotic pop and ambient vibrations of Private Agenda. But as ever with Aggrowe and Phillips, there is a deeper reason behind the choices, one that was recently revealed in an interview over at Vehlinggo, for you see, both Essa and Barrott have lived most of their lives on various islands (UK, Japan, Ibiza), giving them a unique perspective on Private Agenda’s overarching investigation of sacred ocean spaces.

Private Agenda - Aura (Lo Recordings, 2019) “Aura” starts with futuristic boogie rhythms, which set the stage for sweeping synthetic melodies, heavenly doo-wop choirs, and Chic-adelic funk guitars. As we drop into the verse, Phillips sings sensual lyricisms, with his fragile voice occasionally accompanied by soulful backing harmonies. During the chorus, gemstone synthesizers rise towards the sky and the singing erupts into some fantasy amalgam of MJ, Romanthony, and Jónsi as Phillips calls out: “and then when I wake up / I’ll hold you back,” with each “hold you back” refrain trailed by backing vocal ethereality. After a passage of percussive fireworks, with toms and snares splattering across the spectrum and tambourines jangling, we move into an instrumental variant of the chorus, wherein backing vocal cloudforms and tropical synthesis generate a balearic dreamscape before Phillips returns for one more round of vocal pop perfection. Then in “Grapple,” atmospheric swells phase between ocean and starlight while a hypno-rhythm soars through the cosmos. Looped voices pulsated and tubular bass sequences dance while pitch shifting leads descending upon the mix, sounding as if audial streaks of silver are mutating as they echo star-to-star. A clap introduces the verse, with octave basslines grooving and Phillips singing dystopic futurisms concerning nuclear fusion and chemical cocktails raining from the sky. And as the phrase “I tried to resit it / I can’t I can’t go on” trails into wordless ether, we hit an ultra-kosmkische glide, with echoing sequences and neon arpeggiations racing through galactic expanses. Another clap brings back the vocals, only during the second measure, a key change sweeps the soul towards realms of paradise perfection. And then comes a moment that never fails to bring tears…a passage so powerfully transcendent, with angel choir pulsations washing over the soul, layers of interstellar magic bringing LSD dream visions, and kosmische grooves working the body into space age synth-pop hypnosis.

“Kingfisher” sees dreampop guitars ringing out through pink and purple synth hazes as an airy trip-hop beatscape emerges. The vocals are so narcotizing and mysterious, with Phillips singing “everybody knows your name / blend into the background” in a way evoking the romantic spiritualisms of Air, all while spy movie guitars bring parallel evocations of Chris Isaak, Portishead, and Angelo Badalamenti. Elsewhere, arpeggiations swirl at hyperspeed while a baritone guitar decays through a noir nightscape, with the track’s title being whispered and percussion moving in and out of silence. There’s a brief moment that sees the mix reducing to a sea-foam fog as lonely guitars sit beneath birdsong field recordings, but the ambiance soon cuts away in favor of dramatic percussion passages, which then lead back to the narcotizing guitar pop magic, all liquid slides, desert hazes, ethereal arps, and soloing synth psychotropia intertwining while the stuttering percussion leads a softly anthemic body groove. Aura ends on “Lighthouse” and its themes of synthetic brass fluttering on clouds while seascape guitar chords disperse above kick drums, snares, whispering hi-hats, and growling funk bass riffs. The singing during the verse flits above sparse rhythms while six-string chords evoke shimmering harps and there’s a dirgey sort of chorus, with voices in each ear harmonizing and swooning together through paradise motions, creating atmospheres of soulful wonderment as backing vocals add touches of shadowy drama. Later, we break down into futuristic synth psychedelia, with electronic tracers circling wildly before progressing into alien madness…all while a breathy voices speaks “lighthouse” above chugging bass riffs and a kick drum heart pulse. Blasts of interstellar synthesis arc across the stereo field as the track erupts again into the all-encompassing chorus, with the heart swept higher and higher until an arresting minor key voice transition…an unexpected touch of prog drama leading to mutating voice coda.

Private Agenda - Île de Rêve (Lo Recordings, 2019) In “Bounty,” mermaid choirs hover beneath stabbing synths and swooning chord progressions are carried upon ethereal swells while aquatracers diffuse through the mix…these neon squiggles echoing through infinite oceans. Brass chords quiver before exploding with energy, which brings a touch of funk sensualism to the beauteous flow, and sequences constructed from glass move through dazzling patterns and rainbow colorations. And later, sea sirens sing radiant songs and layers of comforting hiss immerse the body as the spirit drifts towards Private Agenda’s island paradise. White light synthesis swells in from the void in “Sea Life,” bringing with it crystalline melodies that waver like a mirage. Downtempo drum pulsations are constructed from thudding kicks, electro-toms, and interspersed tambourines while funk-colored bass motions support yearning repetitions of “sea life”…the voice hauntingly beautiful and child-like, with etheric wavefronts swelling in support. There are soft transitions into ocean prog majesty, with basslines carrying the soul and synthesizers flowing outwards before reversing into mist. Then, as we return to the melodious vocal incantations, multiple layers flow in round while coral colored key strokes dance on sunbeams. “Wave Motion” follows with orgasmic pads surrounding the body…the vibe warm and womb-like. There are touches of 70s style mellotronic prog breaking through the dense layers of sea-fog while overhead, fragile piano melodies wander freely…the sound close mic’d and intimate, with squeaky hammers hitting dusty strings and bench creaks and soft breaths heard amidst the bucolic keystrokes. The ambient layers reduce to black smoke at some point before slowly filtering back into an oceanic haze and eventually, the pianos mutate through zany delay runs.

The epic length “Ultramarine” revels in dreamworld pads that vibrate with ecstatic energy. White noise percussion skips across an alien sea…these filtering snare rolls buried beneath layers of deep sea growth and sometimes morphing into whip cracks…while sparkling leads dance through an underwater wonderland. At some point, the wispy drum noises and dreamy melodies drop away, leaving atmospheric synths to waver like the reflections of sunlight off water, with evolving oscillations almost overtaking the mix before fading into nothingness. And as the rhythms return, they are joined by squelching synthfunk riffs and sub-sonic bass currents, with everything locking in for a beatless stretch of ambient house euphoria…like Larry Heard soundtracking a coral reef dreamworld. In “Monsoon,” thick polysynth riffs execute a paradise waltz while starshine echoes flow in counterpoint. This is the only other vocal track on the album and the lyrics are spellbinding, with Phillips working through soft variations of the phrase “in darkness / I sit and watch the rain fall” while his voice subtly mutates…as if a kiss of vocoder has been added to further enhance the futuristic dream aura. Psychosonic static textures crawl into the mix before sweeping it all away into a romantic filterscape, wherein crystalline leads ping like sonars, orgasmic synthesizers flow through warm distortions, and psychedelic wah-wah motions flutter above heartbeat kick taps. Once we rush back into the pounding polysynth riffs and echoing arp lines, the synth swells from the midsection remain, adding a strange yet comforting touch of alien orchestral magic. Towards the end, the vocals reprise their swoon-song spiritualisms as the mix begins fading away and eventually, a lone voice is left calling out over polychrome synthwave minimalism.

A golden-toned piano swims through the sky in “Solitude,” its lilting chords intermingling with gentle arpeggiations. Aggrowe’s playing is expressive…sometimes radiating primal power while at other times backing down into a whisper…and here and there, a screaming siren sweeps upwards with the piano for moments of stunning emotional power. Elsewhere, as the ivories settle back into a melancholic meditation, laser fire sequences weave neon patterns through the air and subsonic bass currents underly everything, their sounds evoking a contrabass bowing through layers of darkness. And during breathtaking climaxes, the dam bursts and waves ethereal atmosphere wash over the soul, melting the heart as the spirit ascends towards some star kingdom at the center of a deep sea universe. Next is “Melani,” with oscillations hypnotizing and hovering…as if time is standing still. Melodies sound sourced from a piano, but slowly morph and mutate into synthetic mesmerism…these golden hazes and lush romantic decay trails swelling in strength then dispersing. There are touches of kankyō-ongaku shining through, with my mind going to the work of Yoshimura and Hirose, as well as Hosono’s closed eyed synth journeys...the track seeing Aggrowe and Phillips similarly subsume melody in favor of spacious silence and atmospheric sound design. Cricket chirps diffuse in before fading away as the mix devolves into nothingness…a false ending that leads to a post-rock ceremonial for the sunrise. Later, black clouds of bass ambiance float the soul while ecclesiastical synthesizer leads rain down from the heavens and as the pianos resume their echoing ocean dances, we find ourselves in a world of modernistic new age wonderment...the vibe at once enchanting and deeply hallucinatory.

There’s a touch of Pachelbel’s “Canon” to the blissed out pads of “Dependency,” which are supported by soloing church organs…the two elements creating an instrumental hymn for the sky, though sometimes the synths distort into a garbled mess. The electronic textures are eventually swapped out for piano, with chord patterns falling like rain. Yearning space leads progressively modulate through alien tremolo weirdness and drunken arps careen across the mix, with wild filter formations moving in and out of time. It’s a world of contrast, with pianos growing ever more transcendent as the electronic elements are destroyed by ring modulation and outer-dimensional vibrato. After a climax awash in disorientation, we back down into the Pachelbel drift, with the church organs contorting into insectoid noise, synths filtering into warm wet brass, and flutey electronics transmuting into feedback. Closer “P.S.R.” begins with billowing waves of fuzzform synthesis creating a sunset panorama, with melodies reaching deep into the heart even as they are smothered in static and shadow. Aqueous stands of light escape from the murky atmospherics, their bright curlicues wrapping around the mind while slow filter movements stoke psychedelic hypnosis. Everything is in motion…though slowly, with progressions moving at the speed of universal evolution. Waves crash in against white sand beaches and are rendered in a soft-focus blur…like a paradise beach visited on a cloudy day. Delay-soaked pianos rain down from a grey sky and evoke the minimalist dreamscapes of Jordan de la Sierra, while subdued fusion textures swim in the background. And swells of church organ bass support it all, creating currents of soulful magic as the ivory incantations carry the mind away.

Private Agenda / Max Essa / Mark Barrott - The Space Between Swells (Lo Recordings, 2019) Max Essa’s extended vocal mix of “Aura” sets things to a muscular disco beat awash in conga and bongo tropicalisms, with voices echoing and blissful pads surrounding a romantic synthbass dub groove. Pianos trace out vague remembrances of the original track’s melodic themes, spaceguitars flow through deep sea phaser fx, and a synthetic brass section pulses on etherwaves over ultra-tight wah guitar accents…all until swirling electro-tracers bring in Private Agenda’s cinematic synthesizer themes. Basslines slip and slide through buttery distortions, even evoking fretless fusion sensuality, and there’s a tight shuffle on the hats that is oh-so-irrestible, with everything setting the stage for the vocals, which here swim through layers of tremolo atmospherics. The chorus is similar to the original, with Phillips erupting through soulful intensity while layers of backing vocal radiance cause the heart to swoon and sway. Elsewhere, we rush upwards on pulsating keyboards as the drums break down into a Latin funk stutter, with anthemic anticipation building as voices and synthesizers coalesce into sunset magic. Arps glisten before fading into air and dreamhouse pianos tease ecstatic riffs while Essa’s typically liquid guitar psychedelics flow ear-to-ear. And above it all, Phillips’ sexual hooks are repurposed into soulful dream textures. Essa and Private Agenda also present a dub mix of “Aura,” wherein hand drums sit beneath aquatic echos as the bass is given a boost of dub disco strength. In lieu of vocal leads, the balearic groovescapes are colored by saucer-eyed pads, piano explorations, and oceanic electronics that stretch towards the horizon and at times, coral-hued fusion leads soar through the mix…their dueling harmonies bringing airs of laser prog majesty. Near the end, angel hazes flutter thorough sea-foam and tripped out wah guitars converse with mermaid murmurs while up above, schools of fish reflect rainbow panoramas as they swim across the spectrum.

Mark Barrott’s take on “Sea Life” begins in the natural world, as crickets converse over deep earth oscillations. Hi-hats and hand drums build a groove amidst kosmische synthesis and Phillips’ “Sea Life” refrain is even more gaseous as it loops and echoes over itself. A subtle key change brings airs of hope before the kick drum hits and then, following a brief rhythmic breakdown, the beats rush back in alongside subsonic bubble pulses…these alien bass textures sitting somewhere between synthesis and percussion. The vocal refrain flows in and out of the mix according to Barrott’s mysterious dream logic and laser light oscillations smolder before rocketing towards the celestial sphere, while later, guitars morph through crystalline feedback glows and chiming echo hypnotics…like Floydian space rock intertwining with Roy Montgomery’s experimental ambiance. There’s a brief moment of rest near the middle where insect chirps move through the mix like a mirage while melodic bass sequences bop untethered, but soon the heady hi-hat patterns return us to tropical slow dance ecstasy, with the “sea life” hook wrapping the spirit in cooing sensuality. And eventually, the groove gives way to a beatless coda where organs transmuting into whale song amidst a haze of soundbath spirituality. In addition to the vocal mix, Barrott presents two further takes on “Sea Life,” the first of which strips the vocals away and thus allows the cosmic atmospherics to take over…creating an even more zoned out ritual for starlight nature dancing. And in a total flip, Barrott also includes an accapella mix, which gives full view into his vocal production sorcery. Pre-delays and reverberations cut in and out unexpectedly as Phillips’ hooks ping pong and smear into ether while elsewhere, humming pulses and looping voices morph into birdsong, psychosonic filter movements pull things in and out of focus, and unexpected temporal shifts lead to overlapping resonances and alien dissonances.

(images from my personal copy and Private Agenda’s Bandcamp)

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444m777 · 2 months

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29 things I love about Michael: Day 5

Finding out he collected rocks and opals (gemstones). My heart skipped several beats. You have no idea how much my soul sang knowing he did something I was and still am interested in doing which is collecting gemstones (and using them). It was like a weird little spidey sense tingling moment watching this interview and hearing him say that. And I love that he did it together with his brother Randy🥰

That’s what sparked the idea for picking crystals, rocks and stones that match his outfits. How I pick the crystals is mostly intuitive. I go through my crystal books/decks and let my finger land wherever or whatever card comes out when shuffling.

The latest one is Rhyolite

You can view the growing MJ crystal series here: pink halite, amber, onyx, moonstone

It’s Michael’s birthday month and so I’m sharing every day something I love about him. Feel free to join in or use the tag #29thingsMJ I’d love to read what you love about him

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444m777 · 2 months

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 3/♾️

Onyx is a sturdy and solitary stone. Historically, it symbolizes balance and protection. As well as boosting self-confidence and self-discipline. This gem invites you to tune in to your inner commander. It is also one of the first precious stones mentioned in the Bible. I really believe this photo of Michael encompasses the onyx energy because this one has a druzy. A druzy is like a pocket (depending on the size of the stone) of tiny sparkling crystals on the surface of a crystalline body. Michael sparkled wherever he went and commanded the attention of everyone through his life’s work and his humanitarian efforts. Which speaks to the balance aspect and his love for protecting and caring for people especially children.

Michael collected rocks and gemstones. It’s something I found out this year and made me want to do this series because I collect and use crystals myself for over 9 years now. Two things I enjoy wrapped in one, MJ and crystals.

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444m777 · 21 days

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 8/♾️

Peridot has extraterrestrial origins, found in rare pallasite meteorites (only 61 known to date) formed some 4.5 billion years ago it just so happens to also be one of the 3 birthstones for the month of August. The meaning of Peridot is focus and purpose. Something many people claimed Michael was so good at that he must’ve been from another planet. Happy 66th Birthday Michael

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444m777 · 2 months

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 2/♾️

Amber exudes warmth and electrical charge. It is believed by many Asian cultures that amber encapsulates the soul of a tiger once it dies. Amber helps you to see the humor in life and not take yourselves too seriously. Technically fossilized tree resin, Amber is a talisman of beauty, protection and renewal.

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444m777 · 2 months

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 4/♾️

Moonstone holds the power of mystery and since its earliest times, it has been a tangible connection to the moon. It is said to help boost clairvoyant gifts asking you to trust in the unknown and beyond what you can see in this realm.

Moonstone makes me think about how Michael’s ingenuity was magical and out of this world. Surpassing the moon and the stars. And how much he trusted himself and his ability to change the world of entertainment.

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444m777 · 1 month

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 6/♾️

Lepidocrocite helps with committing to your life’s purpose and taking action in order to make progress. This gemstone reminds me a lot of Michael’s work ethic which was drilled into him and his brothers by his father and was something that never left him once he went solo. Lepidocrocite values tradition and educates without judgment and shares wisdom for the highest good of humanity. Michael was an avid reader and enjoyed being a sponge soaking up and wringing out his new knowledge and innate creative genius for the world to enjoy and be inspired by.

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444m777 · 2 months

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 5/♾️

Rhyolite is a silica-rich volcanic rock created from explosive eruptions. It ignites the potential and creativity of the soul. Facilitating change without enforcing it. It processes the past and integrates it with the present. This rock type reminds me of Michael’s explosive creativity stemming from his soul in where he channeled all that explosive anger and creativity before releasing Thriller and declaring that he’d look back on the world of entertainment (the past) and perfect it (the present).

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444m777 · 3 months

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 1/♾️

Pink Halite encourages you to honor the highest version of yourself and trust that you’ll make decisions for your highest good. Helping one not only to experience self-love, but also to take action and to do things that self-love implies.

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444m777 · 1 month

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MJ Crystal Photo Series — 7/♾️

Lazulite comes from the Arabic word lazaward meaning sky or heaven. Something that Michael said a lot about where his song lyrics and creativity came from. Lazulite’s numerical vibration is 3, symbolizing creativity, communication, and self-expression. This vibrational energy resonates with artistic endeavors and practical communication skills. It also gives the ability to express oneself with clarity and confidence. Something this iconic photo and moment highlights as a lasting image of Michael’s creativity, force and drive to innovate. He knew what he wanted, affirmed it and made it happen.

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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little situation | part 19.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, peter parker x black!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

School was interesting the day after your press conference. You had been introduced to the world once again when the holidays were over. Only instead of being Sarah Rogers aka America’s Darling, you were the newest member of the Avengers: Gemstone. The PR team also chose this moment in order to overshadow the announcement of Steve and Sam in case of backlash. You became the talk of school again much to your detriment.

You had enjoyed how the hype had died down around you but now it flared up like the first day of school again. MJ, Ned, and Peter didn’t appreciate how people suddenly surrounded your table. You tried to answer any questions you could, having to tell them that a lot of what they were asking was classified so you can’t give any answers.

You felt nothing but relief when you left to go to Peter’s— MJ still not fully on board coming home with you guys, it might take till senior year but you were determined to bring her into the squad completely. Even if it involved more nights like Hamilton where she’d see the logic in sleeping over and reluctantly agree.

“I’m surprised you don’t have to go home.”

“We set strict boundaries. I’m Midtown student Sarah Rogers first and Avenger second and besides, I already train before school anyway…you got number four wrong.” You peeked at Ned’s chem homework.

He looked down and erased it. “Oh thanks, yeah that shouldn’t be there.”

“And it’s a Friday. I’m on vacation unless there’s a mission. The weekend is my time to thrive!”

You made a funny gesture causing both boys to laugh. May let you guys eat pizza in Peter’s room and actually have the apartment to yourselves for a good chunk of the night because she had a date— also because she was positive the three of you wouldn’t do anything with her all of a sudden being gone. Peter looked at his bed.

“There’s only two bunks,” he said.

Usually you guys never slept over all three at Peter’s house but at Ned’s and whenever it was going to Peter’s either you or Ned couldn’t stay over.

“That’s fine, you and Ned can share,” you said.

Ned pulled the pizza slice from your hand. “Um, I’m an only child, I don’t share. And Peter’s bed is too small for us both.”

“We’re all only children,” Peter said. “My house, you two share.”

“Dude, I just said your bed is too small for me and you, what difference would it make being me and Sarah?”

Peter sighed because Ned wasn’t exactly wrong. He looked to you but you stayed quiet because you were glad Ned found a reason he couldn’t share with you either. You cut him off as he opened his mouth.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to share!”

“… I get nightmares,” you admitted to them. You continued talking when both boys stayed silent.

“That’s why I’m worried about sharing, I don’t want to wake either of you up. They can get, um, pretty bad… all HYDRA stuff.”

“I mean there’s no guarante—”

“About five times a week. They’re slowly calming down, it used to be every night… my Uncle Jamie and I usually help each other relax enough to go back to sleep.”

“How?” Ned asked.

“Tea, candles… face masks.”

Ned and Peter looked at each other and then back to you.

“We do so much of our stuff I forget how soft you are. May’s got all those things.”

“Would she mind?”

“Probably not. I’ll replace it for her later.”

Peter stood up to get the stuff while you and Ned got ready for bed. Your giant pink t-shirt with matching shorts and long socks added even more to Ned and Peter’s perception of your ‘softness’ as Peter put it.

“This is… different,” Ned said. “But a kind of good different.”

You directed Ned and Peter to lay down on the floor with the face masks on as the scent of vanilla from May’s candle wafted through the air. The soft music from Swan Lake played on your phone. They followed your guidance in how to pat in the essence of the sheet masks after taking them off and then the three of you sipped tea.

Sitting on the bottom bunk with Peter, you plugged your phone into the charger and propped it up against the wall to call Steve who was on a mission. The two boys stayed quiet as you talked to your dad.

“Hey, Babydoll.”

“Hi, Dheaidí. Is that a black eye?”

“It’ll be gone by the morning. Sam already chewed me out.”

“You weren’t wearing your helmet were you?” You asked as you started to braid your hair in big braids for bed.

“Who’s the parent here? How was school? Didn’t you say you had an essay that you turned in Monday.”

“Yeah, World War II history paper. Uncle Jamie had lots of stories, got a 94.”

“Buck helped you, isn’t that cheating?”

“Dheaidí, what’s my IQ?”

“194 and you don’t let me forget it, Sarah.”

“So I probably would’ve done well on the paper anyway. Besides, it wasn’t cheating. It’s called using primary sources. Mine was just super fresh and alive… should’ve gotten a 97. I’ll give Mrs. Morcei the three points on grammar but she docked me cause she says one of the stories was ‘unlikely’— you know the one about your enlistment forms and the day before he got shipped out. Like, I didn’t grill Uncle Jamie on and off for seventeen hours while he’s stalking some agent in the Alps for a fake story. It would’ve taken me less time to make shit up.”

“Language.”

“Make something up. I mean were you there Mrs. Morcei? No, he might be ninety-nine technically but he’s not geriatric. I think the James Buchanan Barnes remembers the war he fought in and the time period. Not everything was sorrow all the time, Mrs. Morcei, we get it the whole thing was depressing but people still tried to live their lives. She’s just mad that it took some of the glamorization from war. But I’m not bitter or whatever since I still got the A you know.”

Steve chuckled at your tangent. Moments like this with you were his favorite. You never noticed how passionate you got when discussing anything academic but would just talk and talk. He felt like maybe this was what your mother was like, that he was getting glimpses of Elise. And you talk uninhibited, a part of that was because it was just Steve. But another part was because when you started explaining things to him it was with such blind focus it was like you forgot all your problems. You weren’t tormented by HYDRA memories, on the verge of a breakdown at any moment if something triggered it. You were just his little girl sharing her school day.

He watched you finish the braid you had started while moving on to a new chem topic that he’s sure he’s heard Bruce talk about at some point. You reached into your bag and pulled out a silk pillowcase, handing it to Peter.

“What’s this for?” Peter asked, suddenly reminding Steve that you were at your friend’s house.

“You need to change out the pillowcase. The cotton one could break off my hair. I’m trying to be the next Rapunzel and you kind of need the length for that.”

“I thought that was what the bonnet you normally bring was for. Do I have to change the pillowcase? It was actually a struggle to put this one on.”

“I didn’t bring it this time, didn’t want to wear it. Stop complaining, not my fault you won’t sleep on the floor. Use my pillow, you need to change the case. I thought hosts were supposed to be accommodating? Please.”

“It’s my pillow. You’re in my bed, my house. And fine, only cause you said please.”

You gave Peter a dazzling smile that he rolled his eyes at before taking the pillowcase from your hand that had been outstretched with it for the entire conversation. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched— mainly heard— the scene unfold.

“Babydoll? Peter?”

Peter leaned in so he was in the small frame of the phone. “Yes, Mr. Rogers?”

“Same pillow?” Steve was going to be vague about it but he didn’t know himself exactly what he was inquiring about.

“Yeah, we’re sharing his tiny bed with only one pillow. Who only has one pillow?”

“Why do you need to sleep with multiple pillows?” Peter countered.

“Sharing the bed?!” Steve was a little louder than he meant to be.

You took the phone off of the charger and just leaned out of the bottom bunk to stick the phone in the air. Steve was suddenly face to face with Ned on the top bunk, waving enthusiastically.

“Hi, Mr. Rogers.”

“Hello, Ned.”

You brought the phone back to your level.

“There’s just not enough room, Dheaidí. Nothing weird. Strictly G-rated, platonic bed-sharing…”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because it makes me feel worse.”

“Does it help that you know Ned is on the top bunk?”

“A little… Ned, don’t leave the room until morning,” Steve called out.

“Yes sir, Captain Rogers, sir,” Ned said in the most serious tone.

Steve sighed and you turned the phone for him to see that there seriously wasn’t room and there were only two beds. He breathed out a sigh of relief that Peter was wearing a shirt, knowing lots of men slept without shirts.

“Even if I was mad, I can’t exactly do anything from over here. I’m trusting you, Sarah.”

“Thank you. I promise nothing funny.”

“Alright, goodnight Babydoll. Goodnight Ned, Peter.”

“Night Mr. Rogers.”

“Goodnight, Dheaidí.”

You and Steve blew each other kisses and then you were met with the image of yourself looking back at you. You locked the phone and set it down, flopping onto the pillow. It took a minute and multiple tries for you and Peter to try and find a comfortable sleeping position.

“This isn’t working,” you said with a huff.

“We’re going to have to touch.”

“Yeah, I know. How do you like to sleep?”

“Fetal position on my left side or on my back usually.”

“Hmm, I’m not spooning you but I do sleep on my stomach.”

Peter laid back down and you moved to be on top of him. The two of you breathed out in relaxation together, finally comfortable. You didn’t mind that one of his hands was resting on your upper back considering that’s how he normally slept. If the two of you could crane your necks even further in the opposite directions to avoid each other then you would.

“So I didn’t have to change the pillowcase after all.”

You lifted your head to look at him.

“I’m just saying, your head isn’t even on it anymore… seriously?”

You had looked him dead in the eyes as you removed your hearing aids.

“Sleep, Peter Parker. We should both sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Pete. Goodnight, Ned.” You lowered your head back down as the boys said their goodnights and drifted off to sleep.

Peter’s spider senses woke him up before he himself was aware of what was happening. He heard the soft whimper and felt your body tense up on top of his. Peter turned his head to see your face, your eyes were shut tight and he could see your face contorted in pain. The hand that was on your back gently shook you while he softly called your name. Your eyes opened and you looked around in panic— you were never fully out of the dream when you woke up.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay,” Peter said softly.

“I woke you up. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… it was just another HYDRA dream, it’s nothing.”

“Up.”

You got up and walked with him into the kitchen. He filled up two glasses with water and took out a large jar of skittles that May had stored in the cupboard. You thanked him as he handed you a glass and sat down at the dining room table, turning his chair to face yours.

The two of you sipped on water and ate skittles in silence. You held up a skittle and threw it at him, Peter catching it in his mouth. He did the same and that was the new way you two ate. You brought your knees up to hug them.

“It’s so hard, Peter. I don’t feel like I can win anywhere. I’m too messed up to be America’s Darling they all think they’re getting and it’s fake. It’s all fake because I’m supposed to be just like my dad. You know they’ve even tag lined my moniker? I saw it the other day. Some articles said what’s tougher than diamonds nothing, making Gemstone the perfect name for our darling. This weird strong black girl image that they knew they would get because ‘look, it’s Captain Rogers’ daughter’. I’m not my dad in a girl’s body. They made fun of my suit because it’s accented with pink. I like pink, I have long hair, and I’m sorry I don’t think punching everything like Captain America is a solution to my problems… HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers, America, the world. Even freakin’ Asgard. I don’t know how to not break myself in order to fit what people want. And I break down when I can’t fit it.

“I worked so hard to push down HYDRA so I could be an Avenger and I’m scared that even one more small slip up like at the UN and I’m done. I can’t be done, I don’t know anything else. 001, Gemstone. I know those. I don’t know who Sarah Rogers is. What’s me and what’s what they all want… I was made to be HYDRA’s doll and now it just haunts me every awful thing I’ve ever done. I’m worried I’ll never be okay, I don’t think I ever was.”

“Maybe you don’t have to be.”

“I envy you. You have what I want,” you said with a yawn. “May’s kid. Student by day and superhero by night. Only one of the good guys. To just be Peter Parker. That’s what I want, to just be Sarah Elise Wilson-Rogers… I’m sorry. Oh wow, I just dumped that on you, you’re not my therapist.”

“No, but I’m your friend. I can help in my own way and I think you just needed someone to listen… and eat skittles.” He threw one for you to catch in your mouth.

You chewed it with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Peter screwed the lid back on the jar of skittles and the two of you went back to bed.

(Part 20)...

#steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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