#would still be buck wild to suggest to a dude

[frogfelonies]

slightly tempted to make figure skating au kimchay lesbians

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Ramble: Shit is getting interesting

I honestly thought today was going to be fucking chill with no promo and maybe only a whisper or two about tomorrow's episode. We currently have 21 hours left until the new episode airs and we have so much to unpack because everyone is just out there wilding right now

Get yourself a drink and a snack and prepare yourself. There is a lot to discuss. Minor spoilers for tomorrow's episode in regards to stills and vague-ish comments by people who have seen the episode.

Buck & Tommy Related Chaos:

I'm going to start with the chaos: OLIVER AND LOU ARE DOING A JOINT INTERVIEW that was filmed today for Access Hollywood / Access Daily that will air tomorrow before the episode.

I am in total shock by this because I've been vocal that I didn't even think we'd get more interviews from these two before the season ended. I would have never dreamed that they'd have them doing a joint interview together.

This is a pretty huge (and good) sign, in my opinion. You wouldn't suddenly have two actors going out doing press together unless (from a marketing point of view) you're trying to promote that couple to the audience. This to me really does suggest they're planning on keeping Lou around and pushing BuckTommy.

I've heard crazy speculation about what the interview will be about but it airs before the episode so likely we won't get major spoilers. We'll likely see the two talking about their characters, what it's like working together and hinting at what is going to happen moving forward.

With that said, I'm really curious at how they're going to sell this on the show. We've already seen Ryan hitting the talking point that Eddie is straight in recent weeks, which seems to be an attempt to distancing themselves from Buddie. This interview tomorrow may possibly give us an idea where their heads are at moving forward.

Regardless, I think this is a strong indicator that Tommy isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I know some people are trying to downplay this as happening because Bi Buck was such a huge storyline but they could have easily just had Oliver on the show. Them having both of them makes this about their relationship, not just Buck coming out as Bi and that's a pretty big shift from the marketing we saw around episodes 4-5.

Lou also posted about it on his Instagram and Ryan liked it.

Also I cannot remember a time that they had Oliver doing interviews with his love interest on the show. Can anyone else?

The kiss on Instagram reels continues to do well. It's almost at 1.2 million, sitting currently at 1183k.

General Cast Information:

Let's start simple with the tweets coming out from press who saw tomorrow's episodes. The overwhelming theme with all of them seems to be a warning for us to prepare for some hurt. I'm preparing myself to watch Hen, Bobby and Eddie all go through hell tomorrow based on what we've seen on social media over the last 24 hours. So let's get into that.

Hen: Early today the official Instagram posted stills from the earlier episode where the councilwomen's son refuses treatment after he accident and dies (which leads to Hen being investigated). They then captioned this "A moment from the past can become so pivotal for your future" because clearly they want to hurt us. It also seems like that congress women is in the episode and we see her in one of the stills at the medal ceremony.

Bobby: It seems like he's going to have a nice father/son moment with Buck at some point this episode based on the stills and what Oliver has hinted at. But I think he'll also definitely be dealing with guilt.

Eddie: Dude I don't even know. Between Marisol being at the medal ceremony with him and Christopher and him taking a row boat out with Kim? This is going to get ugly.

All of the stills were really happy and we know that isn't what is happening in this episode so I'm pretty sure they're from the first 15 or 20 minutes. This show has been fucking with our heads with these promos.

We're very, very likely to get a sneak peak sometime tomorrow along with the Oliver&Lou interview.

I might attempt to make a ramble post talking about the interview prior to the episode depending on what time it airs.

So how are we all feeling? Cause I'm having all the fucking emotions.

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturdays #25:

Like an Old Fashioned Waltz

I recently chronicled a fairly formative night in my life which occurred in mid-October 31 years ago; the following, mostly true, story happened a week or two before or after that wild night of knavery and knives. It was far less formative... but still awesome!

Thom Moore and I were really hungry. We needed burritos and neither of us had any cash. I don't know if ATM cards even existed in 1993; if so, neither of us had one and no serious bank would have considered issuing us one, let alone a credit card. After all, neither of us had jobs of any kind and Thom usually sported a thrifted workman's shirt that listed his name as Bobo. Meanwhile, my favorite pair of shorts were about six sizes too big and had been cut to jagged knee length from a pair of what were probably Tom Waits' own corduroy pants in 1972. I tied them around my waist with a piece of rope.

So, there we were, tooling around Pasadena in my parents' armadillo cake (silver on the outside, maroon interior) Ford Tempo and brainstorming how to come up with the necessary $6 for two heavenly, warm and luscious veggie burritos.

We had the taqueria all picked out. The place seemed somewhat famous: they proudly displayed recent press clippings about some obscure airline which was currently serving their burritos at 5,000 feet. I kinda think it's the place in the photo above?

"Maybe we could borrow money from someone?" I suggested. We were hopeless teens: "borrow" of course meant "receive in exchange for nothing and never repay." But Thom was a Pasadena local: maybe he knew of such a generous someone. After all, he seemed to know just about everyone we bumped into. But he turned down the suggestion; most of the people he knew nodded appreciatively when they saw my makeshift shorts. They did not have $6.

"Maybe your parents...?" Thom stopped me before I got to the end of that sentence. His parents were adults with priorities. They would not be buying us burritos.

Thom sighed. "We're gonna have to sell something, dude. Let's go through my CD's."

Thom had a zillion CDs - it was, after all, 1993; and his vinyl collection was the best I'd ever seen. But we were out and about, so we just combed through what he had on him: a dozen or so jewel cases rolling around his backpack.

I, Jonathan was in there; but selling that was out of the question. Thom showed that thing to everyone he met; it was his idea of the world's greatest joke.

He also had Surfer Rosa, Queen Elvis and Henry the Human Fly on him: classics, all, and you can't sell a classic, not even for a burrito. Thom acknowledged that Respect was a largely mediocre record but it was still a Robyn Hitchcock album and therefore it was utterly off limits. Our burrito prospects were dwindling.

But then he found a candidate in the depths of his sack. And that's how I first encountered Sandy Denny's Like an Old Fashioned Waltz.

"Here we go: this album is totally bunk," quoth Thom, waiving it about. "But I don't know... you gotta love Sandy."

At that point I was just discovering Denny: I had the Fairport Convention greatest hits collection that has Stonehenge on the cover, and that was it. And Thom was right, the CD did look bunk: Denny's cover shot looked like she was auditioning for a spot on my grandmother's mantelpiece, and waltzing, whatever that was, was surely the opposite of what we did during Space at Dead shows.

"Yeah, that's the ticket," I said. "But do you think we can get six bucks for it?"

"I hope so; I'm so hungry."

We went, hats in hand, to the same place Thom had bought his copy of Like an Old Fashioned Walz for an easy $12 or more; they offered him just $5, which we took. We were still a dollar short. Curses!

What happened next was desperation lathered in genius. We found - this is all at least relatively true - somewhere around 70 cents in spare change on the floor and under the seats of the Tempo and then a miraculous quarter appeared in the gutter outside the burrito place. We begged our way, at the counter, through the missing nickel.

And, oh boy, those burritos sure tasted good. So good, in fact, that I'm not even sure we made the wrong move selling Denny's ridiculously perfect third solo album. After all, it was a CD copy, and CDs suck.

Plus, Sandy's rich, subtle and utterly magnificent songs were way the hell over our teenage heads:

[felidaefatigue]

holy shit houses are cheap in shitty little hick towns wtf.

bfs fam suggested we move n buy this company in town and we were kinda loosely considering it given were not really doing fuck all productive in the city and are kinda at a dead end cause shit here is eXPENSIVE. and obv thats a buck wild idea and we werent sold at all just vaguely considering

but dudes i could literally probably afford the dp on like. all the first ones i seen. and theyre like. HOUSES. do u kno what goes for that in my city???? a black mold ridden should be burnt down trailer. not even on a lot. like. the cost of these eNTIRE HOUSES would be like a quarter of a downpayment on a shithole here

wtf.

now granted. could i make enough money to keep the house in a shithole town. fair question. becausr probably not. even with coowning a shitty lil business BUT STILL THESE PRICES BLOWIN MY LITTLE MILLENIAL MIND

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

Hold Me Tighter ||3||

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Peter and reader have a talk and Bucky overhears. 

Warnings: Swearing I think? A big of angst, fluff, Buck jumping to conclusions bc he’s a soft dummie...

A/N: Hej hej friends, it’s been a bit since i’ve posted something. My life has been wild and though i’ve been working on various things I have yet to complete said various things. Hopefully posting this gets me back into the groove. Please enjoy and give me feedback as its very much appreciated!! <3

Part ||1||   Part ||2||

~~~~~~

“Do you have an ace?” 

“Nope, go fish,” 

“Do you have a crush on Bucky?” 

You almost drop your hand full of cards on the ground as the words leave the man's mouth. 

“Wha-Peter!” 

“What? It kinda looks obvious, on both sides, but it’s like you guys or holding back or something,” Peter shrugs nonchalantly as he plucks a card from the deck before laying down another set of matches. 

You pout, “Why are you so good at this game?” 

“Answer my question first,” He laughs lightly while playfully nudging your shoulder with his fist. 

You and Peter had been the ones left at the tower while the team was on their latest mission. You felt grateful for the company, or at least you did before he started asking questions while he taught you how to play various card games. The pair of you sat facing each other, legs crossed and knees almost touching as the deck of cards sat in the middle. 

“I dunno… Maybe?” You could feel the fire in your cheeks and ears as you answered, forgetting to ask if Pete had a card and taking straight from the deck instead. 

Peter smiled widely and set down the few cards he still had, putting his full attention on you, “That’s great, Y/n! I think he likes you too! Why haven’t you guys gotten together yet? You spend like every day with each other when Bucky isn’t on a mission. He even cooks for you all the time and I’ve never seen him do that with anyone-” 

“Peter, it's not like that. I’m pretty sure he just thinks of me as like… A charity case or something. He’s helped me a lot since I’ve gotten here but it was solely because he felt obligated too. Kind of like when you find a puppy on the street,” You set your cards down to the side as well, using your free hands to nervously tangle your fingers together. 

“That's ridiculous! Y/n he calls you pet names all the time, he carries you around, I even saw him kiss your cheek before he left!” Peter points an accusatory finger at you. 

Your eyes widen in shock and you stutter before responding, “Why are you paying so much attention to us? It’s weird how much you notice...And besides, lately he hasn’t really been the same. He tells me that he’s always busy with training or meetings or something, and I get that it happens, especially with what you guys do! But it just feels like he’s been avoiding me lately,” 

“The whole team has noticed! You guys have done almost everything but make it official,” The man sighs exasperatedly before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours, a silly habit the two of you developed for serious conversations, making you giggle a bit before pushing back, “You should talk with him about it dude,”

You keep your forehead pressed against Pete's, sighing quietly before responding, “I just think… If he doesn’t feel the same way, then everything is going to change. He won’t want to spend time with me anymore, or talk to me, he won’t wanna watch movies with me… He just- he won’t be able to think of me as more than just the silly mutant that’s been obsessed with him for as long as she’s known him,” Your face had scrunched up into a scowl as you thought about what life would be like without Bucky by your side. 

“Hey, hey, hey! He won’t do that, I promise. Bucky isn’t like that, he’d never just start to ignore you or think of you as some obsessed girl. It’s obvious he cares about you a lot, and I think it would be good for both of you to talk about it,” 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start-”

“Start with how you feel, put it all out in the open,” Pete says confidently.

“That’s crazy!”

“How is it crazy?” 

“I can’t just go up to him and say, ‘Hey I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been deeply enthralled and have wanted to be with you since the first time we met!’” 

Peter was about to respond, but a deep voice interrupted, “Y/n?”

You and Pete pull your heads apart and gape at the tall brunette standing in the doorway, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown and his eyes full of confusion. “Bucky I-” 

He puts a hand up before you can continue, “I um-I gotta go shower. Sorry I interrupted you guys,” 

You sat frozen on the floor as Bucky quickly made his exit, Peter switching his gaze between you and the now empty doorway. “Oh my god-” he muttered in absolute bewilderment.

“Wh-what just happened? What should I do? Oh my god he hates me! He’ll never speak to me again-” 

“No! No, no, no it’s fine! Just a misunderstanding! You need to go after him and clear it up,” Peter tells you, hurriedly standing up before grabbing your hands and helping you stand. “You need to tell him everything Y/n. *Everything.*” 

You nod your head in agreement, starting for the doorway, “Thanks pete, I’ll see you later,” 

Peter’s response doesn’t quite register as you quickly walk down the maze of hallways, trying to find the fastest possible route to Bucky’s room. Your heart felt like it was pounding hard enough to escape your chest. 

You let out a yelp as you suddenly hit a wall, “Oh hey kid, you seen Barnes yet? He was lookin for ya,” Tony’s hands are on each of your arms to steady you as he begins to ask how your week with Peter went. 

You can’t focus on any of his questions, solely focused on fixing the mess you had made. 

“Kid? You okay?” Tony steps closer to you, his overbearing father coming out as he reaches up to check your temperature, “hmm maybe we should get you to med, you feel a little hot,” 

“Tony I’m fine-” You try and back out of his grasp but he holds onto you firmly. 

“Hey if you’re gettin’ a fever we want to catch it quick-” 

“I don’t have a fever, please-” 

“C’mon, it’ll only take a minute,”

“Oh my god, goodbye!” You huff out before pushing Tony away from you and using your power to disappear from the hallway. 

Tony lets out an annoyed sigh, “If you get anyone else sick you’re the one who’s taking care of them!” he shouts into the empty space. 

You however, had already popped up outside of Bucky’s door, your hands clenched into fists of stress and nerves. Your right hand went to open the door but when you tried to twist the handle it didn’t budge. 

“Friday can you let me in?”

“Mr. Barnes has specified to not be bothered for the time being,” The AI responded simply. 

You let out a huff of frustration, “Okay well it’s either you unlock the door and let me in or I just pop up in there, so…”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the quiet click of the door unlocking, making you smile victoriously, “Thank you, Friday,” 

Bucky was still in the bathroom with the door closed when you had entered his room. You took a quick look around before deciding to sit on the bed and wait for him to be done. Your fingers began to tangle and pull at themselves in a stressful manner and you couldn’t help the tight feeling in your chest. It only got worse when you heard the running water turn off and the sound of Bucky drying and dressing himself. 

When Bucky opens the door, the both of you freeze in place, eyes locked on to each other for what felt like ages. 

Bucky is the first to break eye contact and move, “I thought I told Friday I didn’t want any visitors,” he mumbles quietly, going over to toss the damp towel in his hands into a laundry hamper.

“I uh- I told her I would just pop in anyways…” 

“Shouldn’t invade people's privacy like that, kid,” his cold tone made you cringe, “can’t start abusing your power like that,”

“Listen Bucky, I came here to explain-” 

“You don’t gotta explain anything to me. I saw what I saw, it’s not a big deal,” he interrupts you and avoids your eyes as he begins to unpack from his mission. 

“Except I think you might not understand entirely-” you begin only to be interrupted again. 

“No! No, I get it. Pete is a good kid, good morals, good background. I can see why you’d like him, it makes sense,” Bucky’s voice was clearly stressed as he spoke and it just made your chest tighten even more. 

“Bucky no-” 

“He’s closer to your age, you have a lot in common, spend a lot of time together…”

“Why is everyone interrupting me today?” you groan out in frustration before getting up off of the bed and walking over to the disgruntled man. 

You move to sit on the other side of the duffle bag he continues to empty, still avoiding your eyes. You let out a huff of annoyance and quickly grab hold of Bucky's hands, bringing them to a pause. 

“Kid, I gotta unpack-”

“No. Not until you let me say what I need to say. Without interrupting me,” You state firmly.

Bucky visibly clenches his jaw, giving you a small nod to continue, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter-” 

“Yes I di-” “What did I just say? No interruptions!” 

Bucky sighs, “Sorry,” 

You take another breath before restarting, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter. You heard me telling him about what I’d say to someone else,” 

Bucky’s face scrunches up in confusion as he replays your words in his head, trying to put the pieces together, but failing. “Who were you going to say-” 

“You! Ya big dummy. I was telling Peter what I would say to you,” You blurt out with a breath of exasperation. 

Bucky shook his head, as if to try and wake himself up from a daydream, “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Of course I am, Buck. I- Peter said that it would be good for the both of us if I admitted my true feelings for you, and I didn’t know what I would say, so he suggested that I just flat out tell you, and…” You trail off, hoping the older can figure out the rest on his own. 

“And that’s when I walked in? When you had figured out what exactly you’d say?” 

“More or less, yeah,” you answer quietly, giving Bucky’s hands a gentle squeeze to try and bring even more reassurance. 

“Why were you so close to each other?” You looked back up to Bucky, a smile gracing your features as his gaze finally met yours. 

“Because we were having a serious discussion. Isn’t that what everyone does?” You ask, brows slightly knit in confusion.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “No I think that’s only you two,” 

“Oh…” 

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, mulling over what you’d like to say next and trying to organize your thoughts. When Bucky didn’t say anything for a while you decided to continue on, “So um...Do you maybe uh-maybe do you feel the same way? About me?”

Bucky doesn’t even wait a beat to answer, “Oh my god yes! Yes I’ve felt the same way for ages, doll!” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you take in the new information, “You have?”

Bucky nods his head, a smile on his face as he looks into your eyes, “Sweetheart I’ve been head over heels for you since I first caught you in midair,” he chuckles. 

You grin at Bucky and feel the familiar flickering of your powers take place, knowing your emotions were much too strong to stop it. Within the blink of an eye you had popped out of existence and popped right back up into Bucky’s lap, making him fall over in a huff of laughter. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into the softness of his hair, “What gives then you goof? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a tight squeeze, “Once you started gettin’ the hang of your powers and began training with the rest of the team, I dunno… It felt like you didn’t need me there for you anymore, I didn’t want to risk holding you back from making new friends and connections,” Your heart split in two hearing Bucky’s explanation.

You pull your face out of his lovely smelling hair and stare into the soldier's pretty blue eyes, “That’s silly Bubba. You would never hold me back! You’re the reason why I’m so comfortable around everyone now. You gave me the strength to get out of my comfort zone,” Bucky grinned at your words and shook his head, mentally chiding himself for being so foolish. 

“M’sorry lovie, I guess I got in my own head about everything. Almost messed it all up too because I got so upset when I saw you and Peter,” Your chest swelled with happiness when he calls you one of your favorite nicknames, knowing the two of you were back to normal. 

“It’s okay! I can understand why you thought what you did. But I promise I’ve only ever been deeply enthralled with you,” You laugh and push your forehead up against Bucky’s, making him let out a deep melody of chuckles. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to hold back anymore? I can love on you as much as I want?” Bucky pairs his question with an affectionate nuzzle in the crook of your neck before looking back up into your gleeful eyes. 

You giggle and brush your nose up against his as you nod your head, “You coulda done that before,” 

Bucky’s hands move from around your waist to your thighs, easily lifting the both of you up from the plush carpet, “M’never lettin’ you go ever again. Gonna hold on real tight, sweet girl.” 

You keep your arms wrapped around his neck and try to pull Bucky closer, burying your face back into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He moves the two of you over to his bed and flops down onto it, pulling the both of you under the covers and tangling his legs with yours. The two of you stay like that for what feels like ages.

A perfectly content tangle of happiness and relief. 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr​ for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. 

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

 “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.”  Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.”  She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

[the-scooby-gang]

Us... But not quite

Part 7

Summary: After falling thought a portal while they were being chased by their most horrifying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they have never been before. A place called Crystal Cove. 

“We are here!” Younger Fred said.

Here, is a large white Spanish style building with red roofs were the front wall read City Hall in big brass letters.

The trip over here was mundane. It was a nice town, composed of small buildings, built like a picturesque Spanish village. Most buildings were painted either a soft cream or vibrant welcoming colours. If it wasn’t for the “Most haunted place on earth” sigh at the beginning of the town they would have happily stayed there relaxing a little and taking their sweet time researching until they found a way to go home.  

“I will go inside. You guys wait for me here?” Young Fred was already outside the van. He had the coffee holder in one hand, one foot on the steps of the building.

“You got it, Little Me.” Older Fred gave him a thumbs up. The gang made their way outside moving towards the young man who by now had walked up the steps, looking at them expectantly.  

“Ok, be right back” he waved at them as he went inside.

“He’s such a cutie,” Daphne said when young Fred was no longer on hearing range. “Remember when we used to be his age?”

Fred and Velma sat down on the third step, leaning against each other. Scooby laid on the sidewalk by their feet while Daphne and Shaggy perched themselves on the stone bannister. They took a deep, long breath, taking in the sea air into their lungs.

It was indeed a beautiful town.

“Like, bold of you to assume I remember anything at any point in time” Shaggy turned his head lazily towards his girlfriend.

“What you had for breakfast yesterday?” Velma’s left eyebrow disappeared under her bangs.

“That’s, like, different and you know it” Shaggy pointed his finger at the sweater-clad woman.

“Rood is unforgettable,” Scooby added from the ground.

They chuckled, a soothing silence fell over them. Scooby made himself comfortable, his head on Velma’s lap with Fred scratching behind his ears. Daphne turned Shaggy’s back to her and resumed braiding his hair. It was past his shoulders again, she noticed. They would have to decide what style they were going to cut it this time.

“What are we going to tell his gang, man?” Shaggy asked, looking at the street while Daphne’s fingers carted through his scalp.

“What do you mean?” Daphne asked, halfway through a five-strand braid.

“Well, are we going to tell, like, everything to them? Everything? ”

“I don’t see why not, it’s not like we have been the face of secrecy with him, you know,” Fred said, gesturing with his one remaining hand as the other was occupied turning Scooby into goo.

“Dude, I ain't talking about the powers and college degrees, that is a different can of worms, I’m talking about us.” Shaggy also started gesturing with his hands, pointing them towards his chest at the end of that particular statement.

“Us?” Fred was confused until Shaggy took his hand, a meaningful look on his hazel eyes.

“Us.”

“But Shaggy, what would be so bad if they knew about our relationship? For all we know, they may be right in the path of starting their own version of it.” Daphne questioned, undoing the five strand braid and starting a french one.

“And that is the problem. We don’t know anything about them. They may be us, but, like, not really us. Maybe nothing goes as they did back home. Then we parade into their lives, like, without knock or warning…”

“And you are afraid that we may accidentally start influencing their decisions or something.” Fred completed, his eyes wild when the information dawned on him.

Velma sprung to her feet, pacing furiously in front of them, her serious face on. “Jinkies, Shaggy is right! At that age, the world was new to us. If an older version of me had appeared to my fifteen old self and told me about my future, I would use all of it as a guideline.”

“But we are not even their future selves, we are from a different dimension altogether. Our lives were shaped by entirely different circumstances.” Daphne contra argued, finishing the french braid carefully to not pull Shaggy’s hair too much.

“It won’t matter. They will see in us models to follow, versions of ‘what could’ or ‘should be’.” Velma sat down once again, both hands under her chin.

“But Shaggy, if you had all these concerns, why didn’t you stop us from talking about our cases? Why expose him to your magic?” Fred asked, looking at his boyfriend expectantly.

“Because these types of things are, like, manageable on the long run, man” Shaggy rubbed his face “Dude, there is a difference between ‘things that I may do when I’m older’ and ‘My future relationship status’. What if we tell them we are together and then they, like, I don’t know, try to force it to happen between them? We,” he pointed to all of them “Clicked together after years of knowing each other, and like, late-night star seeing, but for them? I don’t know where their destiny was going to send them, man. Maybe they end up together. Maybe they would pass the rest of their lives in a harmonious platonic relationship. Maybe they will find love outside of the gang, I don’t know. We could inadvertently cause a sea of heartache.”

Silence fell between them. Fred had to admit that he hadn’t thought about it like that. Daphne hugged Shaggy from behind, her chin on his shoulder, pushing the now made french braid over the other.

“So you think we may cause them harm just by being here?”

Shaggy shrugged “That’s the thing: I don’t know. Not for sure. That’s the problem with interdimensional magic, the rules aren’t as clear cut as, like, time travel ones.” he groaned, resting his head against Daphne’s  “Dude, I hate interdimensional magic. This shit is, like, way trickier than it has any right to be.”

Velma put her finger over her chin. After a minute of silence, she turned towards the gang “I think I get it. In time travel, everything you do affects you personally because you are meddling with your timeline. But once you start interacting with a different dimension you-“

“Your timeline is no longer in the equation.” Daphne completed.

“Exactly, but we are still present in a sense, so our actions will affect the world none less.”

“Just with zero consequences to us.” Fred laid lack on the steps of the city hall entrance, dissociating after such a bomb was thrown in his lap.

“So, we could tell this younger gang about our relationship and then go back to our dimension unaffected…” Daphne turned her body away from the bannister, no longer using it as a seat but as a support. Her arms crossed and her face contorted into a frown as she looked at Fred on the ground.

“But live behind a gang that may not be compatible romantically with each other trying to force themselves together and end up with a nice bucked off emotional issues” Shaggy also turned towards the gang, but remained seated on the bannister in a lotus position.

Daphne covered her face with both hands, her voice muffled “God, I hated having this kind of discussions in Philosophy class, applying them to real-life doesn’t make them better.”

“Well, we have left the room of hypotheses and entered headfirst in an actual ‘non-consequences free’ zone, so is bound to suck harder now. Be glad that you are not being graded by this particular dive into madness.” Velma smirked at the purple-clad girl who threw one of her patented glares.

“Thank you, Velma, for your kind words.”

“I’m here to serve” she mockingly bowed.

They laughed over the girls’ shenanigans. They were giggly since they arrived in this weird new world and they sure hoped it was no psychological effect of being so unceremoniously launched into the unknown. They, still laughing, set all in the steps of the city hall, side by side. Scooby was giving them worried looks. Not a good sight.

“So, what do you guys suggest we tell them?” Daphne was the first one to sober up from the laughing fit, cleaning the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“What they ask of us. Our best tactic now is to not lie. Lies have short legs and can easily trip” Fred said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“Especially when you are lying to a bunch of junior detectives.” Added Velma.

“Exactly, so if they ask about something that we deem reality shattering we tell half of the truth or we find a way to change the subject until we figure out if the information could or not have lasting effects. That way we would not be technically lying to them and at the same time we avert any emotional fallout.” Fred had a faraway look in his eyes, probably thinking about all the topics that he simply didn't want to touch again even with a ten feet long pole.

This dimension Jones Sr. better not be a masked villain too or he was going to deck him in the face.

“…When I had that one dream about becoming one of the faes, these were not the circumstances that I thought it would go down.” Daphne had a disbelieving look on her face, looking at her back as if she was expecting a pair of wings to sprout from there.

“I, like, will have to explain the magic, even if not all of it. Even if I erased his memory of the van merging -with by the way I will not do- magic always finds a way of being discovered. It’s, like, better we explain to them now instead of them finding out later by other means.” Shaggy said, remembering that one memorie in Salem where he and Daphne were accused of witchcraft. He was partially offended that the thing that put her in the stake by his side was not any magical prowess on her part and it was more in the line of “Adult Woman With Opinions Are The Devil”.

“Yeah, you said something about mind magic being volatile” Velma turned to him, always curious about magic and its applications and side effects. She was dead set in proving that magic was just another form of science, albeit more flashy. Shaggy thought that if anyone was going to prove that would be the small woman.

“It’s like magical brain surgery. Like, one wrong move and I give the boy an aneurysm. This kind of spell is for casters that have, like, one-third of my anxiety and nothing more.”

The day barely began in Crystal Cove and they had all these problems to think about. The exhaustion was slowly but surely creeping on them. Fred was feeling old. They were all feeling old. Everything was moving at a breakneck pace and seemed to never stop. A new world, new people, new gang, new problems. They prayed that nothing more was added to the list.

“I can wait for this all to settle down so I can find the closest bed and bloody shut down all my bodily functions.” Fred groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Same.” Was the unison response.

Silence.

Is either silence or laughter. That could not be healthy.

“Wait, does this mean no kissing???” Shaggy exclaimed which earned three hands flying over his mouth.

“Not in public, at least. It's a small town on the coast, isolated from major cities by some good miles, most people know each other one way or another” Fred said, removing his hand slowly.

“Yeah, and they would especially notice if the mayor's son was caught kissing all four of his friends” Added Velma, her hand leaving his mouth to find a place on his shoulder.

“Or, like, kissing said friend’s necks and behind their ears” Shaggy sighed, resigned to the ‘non-affection beyond normal friendly’ future.

“Nice just what we- Wait a second, ‘behind their ear’? Since when does Fred kiss behind ears??” Daphne turned her head so fast that Shaggy was afraid she may break her neck with the speed. When her head didn’t fall off her shoulders, Shaggy finally registered what she said.

“Like, since that one afternoon in grad year, on the roof of the culinary building. I thought he did it to all of us ” Brown eyes looked confused between blue and purple eyes, while said purple eyes were now glaring a hole thru the blue eyes owner's skull.

“Fredrick Jones, what affection partiality bullshit is this?”

“Yeah, Fred what gives?” Now pair of brown eyes was glaring at him, the glare somehow amplified by a pair of glasses, and Fred wanted nothing more than to flee towards the nearest desert to avoid vaporization.

“Ok, in my defence, none of you girls does the little shiver that he does when I kiss you guys there and believe me, I checked” He could feel the intense blush in his face and he just knew that he looked like a blond tomato right now.

“Shivers?” Daphne’s glare lost some of its intensity, her curiosity about new information about one of her lovers superseding her perceived slight.  

Velma’s glare also mellowed down, her eyes now zeroed on Shaggy, who was doing his best to turn into a strawberry from how red he had suddenly turned.

“Yup. They run up and down his spine like a bolt of electricity. He gets all flustered, the most beautiful shade of carmine I have ever seen.” No longer under fear of vaporization via death glare, Fred perked up, a smile of one thousand volts on his face. He loved talking about his loved ones.

“Like, Freddie, man, come on” Redder by the second, Shaggy’s shoulders were perked, covering his ears. God, why didn’t he study those morphing spells more? He would give anything to be a rock right about now.

“Oooooh, so our Norvy darling is a shivery shiver boy, huh?” Daphne smirked, leaning against Shaggy, one arm going around his shoulder, essentially caging him from any last-minute spring to the mountains.

“I will pay you actual money to never say that again” He turned his head in the redhead direction, officially reaching ‘completely red’ status.

“Oh? But is the truth, isn’t it? Freddie is not one for lies.” Velma piped in, a mischievous look on her face.  

“Are you lying, Freddie?” Daphne turned towards him, her own mischievous look making her purple eyes shine.

“I would never. Scots honour” Fred, the traitor, put a hand over his heart, the picture of sincerity. On second thought, maybe instead of turning into a rock, he could turn Fred into a rock.

“What do you say to me and Daph test it out? Just to see it for ourselves…” Velma gravitated to his other side. With Fred right in front of him, he was completely trapped.

Note to self: LEARN THE GODDAMN ROCK MORPHING SPELL!!!

Giggling like the villains they are, his lovers got closer and closer, their minds probably a mile a minute in all the ways they are going to make him have a cardiac arrest from the blushing alone when...

“Ah, ruys? Rhat rabout that rhing rabout rublic?” Scooby, the one that was the current owner of the brain cell of the gang apparently, commented from the ground. Those kids took too much influence from that Addams couple they met all those years ago. It had to be, because Scooby could NOT, for the life of him, remember them being THIS horny.  One of these days he was going to get a cardboard box and write ‘HORNY JAIL’ in it to live them in time out.

The trio deflated, the wind completely blew out of their sails while Shaggy signed in relief, no longer trapped in the soon to be kiss cocoon…

And he was disappointed for some ungodly reason!

Lined side by side on the stone bannister, the gang groaned in frustration.

“I hate this already,” Shaggy grumbled, his red cheeks puffed.

“Yeah.” The other three agreed.

Scooby muffled a laugh. God, these next days are going to be an amazing shitshow to watch unfold. He gave them one week before they broke down.

Another groan came from the young adults, shoulder to shoulder, their heads touching, soaking in the small scrap of contact that they could have.

On second thought, a week may be too generous.

All of sudden, they could hear footsteps approaching from inside the building. Young Fred had a smile on his handsome face, putting his phone away as he walked.  

“Hey, guys. Hope I didn’t make you wait too long” He was waving at them, smiling.

Young Fred was really happy with the presence of this new gang. They seemed so comfortable together, he hoped that they could all hang out. They could go to the beach, eat some Fruitmeir’s. They could even build traps together! He should ask them later.

“Nah, we barely noticed.” Daphne waved back “We were just chatting a little bit, nothing big.”

They had become really good liars along the years, huh.

“So, where now? Did you talk with your gang?” Fred, the older, asked his younger counterpart, making his way towards the van, Scooby softly head butting his left hand earning him a nice pat.

“I called them and told them to meet me at the radio station. It’s owned by a friend of ours that helps us from time to time”

“Groovy! Lead the way” Shaggy smiled, snapping his fingers in rapid succession, making Young Fred laugh. 

We talk about this more later after we meet their gang and take a good long nap.

Three different winks of affirmation. Morse code is coming in handy in these weird times.

“Hey, does that radio station have any maps of the town? Not that I don’t enjoy you helping with directions, but I was hoping to familiarize myself better with the place” Daphne casually hopped to young Fred’s side, looping her arm over his shoulders, a sweet smile on her purple lipstick.  

“Sure thing, Angel must have some lying around. I could show you the library too so you could look for them yourself” Young Fred suggested, lining on the embrace. He and his Daphne should do this more, it was nice.

“Really???” Her smile got impossibly brighter, bouncing in place like a child at a candy store. Young Fred soon found himself locked in a bear crushing hug, the older woman long red hair tickling his nose. “Thanks, Little Freddie, you’re the best”

He hugged her back, a soft look on his face. He had hugged his Daphne before, but this hug felt fundamentally different. Maybe it was her age difference with his best friend or the way she looked at him like he was the most precious thing she had ever seen. Maybe it was the effect of having talked with her about all his trap ideas during the journey here, her attention never wavering.

Maybe it was a combination of all of them. He didn’t know.

That didn’t stop, however, the small part in the back of his mind telling him that this is what a mother embrace felt like.

“Ah chucks, it’s nothing really. What are friends for?”

[imnotasuperhero]

I’ll be waiting (for when you love me again)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Type: angsty fluff?

Summary: Natasha can’t accept the fact you decided to break up with her. Even if she understood your reasons. She knew there was much more in store for the both of you. Together.

Wordcount: 1178

A/N: @nowthisisliving27 requested for a happier continuation of this angsty fic, but like.. asking for help, @jumbojamba47 suggested I’ll be waiting by Adele and well.. this is the result. Lol. Let me know if you guys want a part 3! (:

A/N n2: Not sure this is the right ending I wanted, but after hiting a wall for so long, I decided to embrace it and share it before I deleted the whole thing. Lmao.

The last time Natasha saw you, it was one of the most painful moments she'd endured so far. The fact she had to let you go away so you could find yourself again, was paining her in indescribable ways. If she'd just paid more attention. If she'd just kept you close, showing you that she cared.

How could she be in peace, knowing she let you slip away? How could she be nice with herself, knowing that she contributed to your insecurities? Even if you reassured her over and over that it was your battle and you couldn't drag her down with you. But little did you know Natasha would go to the confines of Hell just to be with you. 

She could still feel the way you felt against her. The softness of your skin under her touch. The soft sighs you'd let out whenever she ran her nails against your upper arms in those lazy days when you got to be in your bed all day. Fully clothed or naked, but together.

It's been a month since you went on a vacation, ready to rediscover yourself and eager to use the pilled up permits to skip work.

A part of her was eager to see you, to witness your happiness as you told her all the things you did and all the places you've got to visit. She wanted nothing else than to see the shine in your eyes when you talked about what you enjoyed the most, the way you'd wrinkle your nose or frown when you talked about your less favorite parts. She wanted to be the one you ranted to. But the realistic part of her made her understand that she couldn't. She didn't have the right. At least, not until you allowed her to. And there was nothing she could do other than wait. As long as it took you.

Days turned into months. The only information she had about your wellbeing was because she decided to give in and use her spy skills on you. And she'd be lying if she didn't felt like a perv, following you around like a stalker. But if you weren't giving her updates, she must get them herself.

That's how the night found her on the rooftop of the building in front of yours. The binoculars on her hands showing you on your couch, probably watching the latest episode of your favorite TV show. Her heart squeezed when she spotted her old t-shirt covering your body, increasing the hope she was feeling inside. What would she give to have you in her arms again, cuddling and just basking in each other's warmth. She knew if -when- you were to have her again, she had to be better. She had to own the pleasure of calling you hers.

After what seemed hours later, she finally plopped down under the covers. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she tossed and rolled in bed, sleep wouldn't visit. Her mind still running wild with ideas to make it happen. God, she was so tempted to ask Tony to fund her so she could get one of those dumb planes to get the whole New York City to know she loved you.

Making her peace with the fact that it was too late now, she quickly changed into workout clothes and headed for the gym. Hopefully, she could nap after.

"You still here?" 

Bucky's voice took Natasha out of her reverie, making her stop mid-jab against the target. Looking at the gym's doors, she frowned at the super soldier walking over to her.

"I just came here," Natasha leaned her head in confusion.

"Nat, it's 10 am. JARVIS told me you've been here since dawn," he chuckled.

Looking around, she could see that in fact, the lights were off, and the sun was shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating the whole room.

"Fuck," she's been here for 5 hours.

"What's wrong?" Bucky leaned against the press, blue eyes meeting green. And Natasha knew she couldn't lie to him. 

"I've been dating this person," Natasha paused licking her lips. Why was her mouth so dry so suddenly? "I- She saw us. When we were undercover." She couldn't help the questioning glaze anymore, so she moved her eyes to the blue sky outside. 

"We've been together for 7 months. We- I really love her, Bucks," she looked up when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Does she knows that?" 

"She does. I- Is not because we don't love each other," she sipped on her water. "I hid her," she confessed. "I hid her and I wasn't there for her and-"

"And you need to make your peace with it." Natasha could hear the laugh in his voice and she wanted to spar with him just to kick it off. "I won't pry and demand you to tell me everything. But I do ask of you to work it out. If you really love her, then don't let her go away."

Natasha mulled his words over and over, trying to come up with a plan. She needed to step her game up. You both were too good to end this way.

It wasn't until she saw you in the café -pure coincidence this time- that she finally made up her mind. She'll win you over and she'll shout at the top of her lungs that you were hers.

"Nat, hi." You smiled something painful and Natasha couldn't help the frown taking over her.

"Y/N, is nice to see you," she smiled honestly, hoping you could see it. "I-"

"You-"

You both cut each other mid-talk, laughing sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. You go first." Always the gentlewoman, Nat nodded for you to continue.

"Umm... I was wondering if you... maybe... Ugh, I'm such a mess," you laughed and Natasha couldn't help her jumping heart threatening to escape her chest.

"You might be a mess, but I wouldn't have it any other way." She high-fived herself mentally at the blushing of your cheeks. 'Smooth, dude' she smirked to herself.

"You're mean. I'm trying to be serious here," you pouted and Natasha was dying to kiss it away. But she knew better. 

"I'm sorry. I'll shut up now," she mimicked zipping her lips and your laugh filled her ears, making her wish she could hear your laugh for the rest of her life.

"Anywaaays," you rolled your eyes at her antics. "I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me? If you're free, I mean."

"I am free and I'd love to share this afternoon with you," she winked at you, repressing a laugh as you grumbled under your breath. "Go pick a table and I'll be there soon," she gestured to the back of the café as she walked towards the barista. 

She couldn't help the smile breaking her face at the outcome of this day. Maybe this wasn't the end, after all. And she was certain she'll make things different. This time, she'll be better for you.

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

Taglist: @marvelfansince08love @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

[joaquinwhorres]

Best of Friends (Ch. 1) {Bucky x Reader}

SUMMARY ���›››› When your best friend steals marries Bucky's best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.

PAIRING ››››› Bucky Barnes x Reader

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,916

WARNINGS ››››› There is no abuse in this story, no drug use, no depression, and as the only warnings worth putting up throughout the series, will be based around major plot points and surprise, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG. 

A/N ››››› So I love and adore this story so much. I originally wrote it as an OC story and you can find those versions of the chapters on AO3 or FFN​

The pounding on the door was seriously the last thing you needed right now. 

The first thing you needed was a drink.

Unfortunately there was no way on God's green earth you were going to successfully parallel park that UHAUL, and the idea of going to a liquor store within walking distance of your new place seemed about as safe as letting in the person on the other side of the door. Something told you it wasn't the UPS guy causing the door to rattle against the frame.

You sent up a silent prayer that whoever it was would just go away and leave you to the excellent pity party you had been throwing herself.

The banging grew louder. Which was about right for today.

Since dying probably couldn't make you feel any worse than you did right now, you strode across the apartment and wrenched open the door. In the next second, you were pushed back into the apartment as someone hurled themselves at you. 

"You're here!"

Thank goodness. Bernadette. 

Your shoulders dropped as you wrapped your arms tightly around your best friend, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself to relax into the wave of relief. "Hi," you mumbled.

"Took you long enough to open the door," Bernadette complained, but you could hear the smile in her voice as she rocked you from side to side.

"I thought you were a crazy person."

Bernadette let out a wild laugh right in your ear, and you flinched but refused to let go. 

"She is a crazy person," a male voice interrupted your moment, and you opened your eyes to find two hulking figures leaning against the wall behind Bernadette. The brunette smirked at you--or maybe Bernadette--as the blonde seemed preoccupied with scanning the hallway. 

"Fuck you, Bucky," Bernadette lifted her middle finger for him to see without releasing you from the hug. 

Bucky just laughed in response. "I suggested texting you that we were on your way, but she thought you'd enjoy the surprise." His eyes glimmered with amusement as your eyes rolled on their own accord. 

"And you did, right?" Bernadette asked, pulling back enough to look at you eagerly. 

"Maybe we should get out of the hallway," the blonde suggested, putting a stop to the bickering and saving you from having to pick sides.

"Yes!" Bernadette's attention shifted as she released you from the hug. "Let's see it!" 

Your stomach constricted. "It's pretty rough."

"Of course it is. You just got here like thirty minutes ago," she dismissed, pushing past you. You sighed, opening the door and letting the men enter. 

“Hi Y/N. Sorry we didn't text,” the blonde greeted, giving you a quick hug on his way in. 

“It's fine, Steve,” you patted his back before dropping back down onto your feet.

“Your Honor,” Bucky grinned, entering the apartment. 

“Your Bestness.” You smiled back, following him in and closing the door behind you to keep anyone else from seeing the depressing state of your new reality. 

The three quickly fanned out to survey your apartment.

"This is a .....nice place," Bernadette smiled too brightly as she circled a pile of boxes in the kitchen to flip on the tap water. You watched as it sputtered a few times before picking up into a yellow-ish stream. She quickly flipped it off, turning to face you and see if you had seen. Making eye contact, she shrugged. "That clears up." 

Bless her. She had to be the best friend to ever exist. Because if you were her, you totally would have hit her with an 'I told you so' by now.

Bernadette had warned you that an affordable single apartment was suspicious. That sometimes landlords blurred the neighborhood lines. That you may need to fix it up in order for it to even be considered a fixer-upper. Everything she warned you about was true.

You had thought you were going to Williamsburg. Instead you were in Bed-Stuy.

The picture on the listing must have been from like 10 years ago. Or maybe it was a neighbor's place. Or straight photoshopped. Because exposed brick was one thing but crumbling walls were another. 

Add to that the three locks on the door and the fact that you were eight hours away from pretty much everyone you knew and loved, and you were feeling super great about this life decision. 

"Does it?" you asked, making your way over to the living room area where about half of the floor seemed to have been ripped up. 

"Sure," Bernadette nodded, moving out of the kitchen. "And if it doesn't, that's what Brita is for." 

"You locked the truck, right?" Steve asked from where he stood by a window, staring out to the street below. 

"Stop, the neighborhood's not that bad," Bernadette waved at Steve. She made a show of rolling her eyes as she moved past you to open the door to your bedroom."You did lock the truck, right?" she paused to whisper in your ear. You hummed a yes and turned to follow her. 

The bedroom was less depressing than the rest of the apartment in the way Mount Everest was less dangerous than K2. It was still a fucking mountain.

"Interesting paint job," Bernadette remarked, staring at the wall which was half royal blue and half blood red. And not even artsy diagonal halves. No, of course not. Vertical halves. "I think I've seen something like this on Pinterest." 

You groaned. 

Bernadette tilted her head slightly, considering the room. "I think you probably have enough room to fit a twin and a dresser in here if you line them up against the wall." 

"It's terrible," you whined. "The whole place is a complete shithole."

Bernadette gave you a sad smile. "It's better than I thought it would be,"  she brushed past you, walking back  into the living room. 

"There's a random hole in the kitchen ceiling!" You flung an arm out gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen. 

"It could have been way worse. I was expecting it to be like a fourth of the size or for there to be a random dude you had to share it with. And anyway, Bucky's handy."

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, who was surveying the hole in the kitchen ceiling.

"You can't see into the apartment upstairs, so that's good," he commented and Steve snorted. Bernadette slipped off her shoe and chucked it at Bucky. He ducked, and it hit the wall of the kitchen, knocking loose part of the wall. 

Whatever. 

Bernadette winced. "Sorry," she apologized to you, meekly, shuffling across the apartment to retrieve the shoe from Bucky's outstretched hand. Taking the shoe, she whacked him in the arm with it. Bucky laughed again, making eye contact with you and shaking his head. You allowed a single exhale of amusement to escape you. But that was pretty much all the humor you had to spend on the situation.

"Do you have the keys to the truck?" Steve asked, and you nodded, patting your pockets before finding them and offering the small keychain to him.  "Alright, Buck," he nodded with his head towards the door, and Bucky moved around Bernadette, giving her a wide berth as he went to follow Steve. 

She started to follow when Steve stopped her.

"We got it. It's just the heavy stuff, right?" he asked you. 

You nodded. "Yeah, I got most of the boxes up before you came." 

"Are you saying we can't handle the heavy stuff? Did I secretly marry a misogynist?" Bernadette asked, putting her hands on her hips. 

Steve shook his head, smiling. "We need someone to watch the stuff up here since the door's going to be open." 

"Steve--" Bernadette started to protest again. You weren't sure if she was about to argue about her physical prowess or the apartment's safety, but regardless of the argument this eternal optimist wanted to make, you were fairly sure Steve was right.

"That'd be great, you can help me figure out where to put things as we unpack."

Bernie brightened at the prospect. "I'm glad you said that, because I already have some ideas." She turned back to face Bucky and Steve. 

"Bucky, make sure he doesn't overexert himself. I need him fully functional tonight." You hoped that everyone mixed the grimace that crossed your face. Steve blushed slightly, and leaned down to whisper something in Bernie's ear. A grin spread across her face, and you were very thankful Steve was not one of those people who couldn't whisper.

"Ah newlyweds," Bucky made eye contact with you again, and you couldn't read the look on his face. He seemed almost like he was waiting for you to get the punchline of a joke. Maybe if your brain was operating at all correctly, you would have gotten it. Instead, you snorted before turning to Bernadette.

"Kitchen should be easiest and least in the way, right?"

"As long as we get it done in time for Bucky to take a look at the ceiling. And the bit of wall he knocked off." 

You knew Bernadette well enough to see the red herring for what it was. You were not going to get distracted with holding her accountable for further destroying your shitty apartment.

"I'm not going to ask Bucky to fix my ceiling," you said, gathering the utensils out of the box and sticking them in a drawer by the stove. 

"It's not a big deal--" Bernie dismissed, crossing paths with you to take the utensils and stick them in one of the mason jars you'd already unpacked.

You shook your head, "It's weird to ask one of your friends to fix my ceiling--"

"He's your friend too," Bernadette argued, taking the napkins out of your hands and disappearing with them. 

"I've met him twice." 

Bernadette came back and rustled through the open boxes, the sound of glass clinking and metal shifting against each other in her wake."Yes, but the second time you spent four days practically attached to the hip with him." 

"Because he was the best man, and I was the maid of honor. It was our job to be attached at the hip and make sure everything went well."

"Was creating cute little nicknames part of the job as well?" Bernadette asked, pausing to pin you with a look.

"It's just an inside joke, and they're not that cute."

"Oh, they're pretty cute," Bernie smirked, bending back down to go through a box. "Where did you put your dish towels?" 

You stood up from your box, coming over to join her in looking through the box. "I mean he calls you Bernie."

"Everyone calls me Bernie now," Bernadette dismissed. "Besides he has two nicknames for you." 

"K is not a nickname. It's a taunt."

"You mean flirtatious teasing."

"I mean a jab at how I'm a shit texter."

Bernadette looked you dead in the eyes before shooting you what was probably supposed to be a sultry wink. " 'k." 

You threw the dish towels you'd just dislodged at her and she laughed, picking them back up from where they fell in the box, and moving over to the open drawer. "Setting aside the two nicknames and their quality, he volunteered to come help you. I don't think he'd mind taking a look." 

"Maybe," you conceded, knowing Bernadette wouldn't stop until she'd had some measure of success. It's what had to make her such a good law student. You had given in enough times on the promise of maybe that with a glint in her eye she dropped the subject.

It took Bucky and Steve a little over an hour to unload all of your things from the truck. It was another forty-five minutes of Bernadette reimagining the floor plan and forcing the four of you to continuously shuffle the furniture around before she was satisfied. When all was said and done, the apartment did look marginally better. At least some of the punched in outlets were hidden and the worst of the floor was covered.

"Well," Bernadette said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's it. You're officially a New Yorker." 

"And you can officially stop sending me those sketchy Craigslit ads and Monster listings," you nodded, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the apartment. 

"Neither of you are New Yorkers," Bucky shook his head, navigating the words around a hair-tie as he fixed his bun. Bernadette turned to glare at him, and he laughed, slipping the hair-tie around the bundle of hair.

"You married in. Doesn't count."

"Excuse you, I’m fluent in Subway Announcement and I’ve had a rat steal some of my food. If that doesn’t make me a New Yorker then I don’t know what does,” Bernadette huffed.

"You're a New Yorker," Steve soothed, putting an arm around her, and kissing the top of her head. 

"Well," you sighed, hoping to stop another bantering fight from breaking out between Bucky and Bernadette. "I need pizza. And beer. And to get out of this apartment. Anyone else?"

"Oh," Bernadette's face fell as she glanced quickly up at Steve and then at you. "I wish we could, but Steve and I have reservations. I wasn't even thinking when we made them, and it's such a long wait list…" she trailed off, frowning sympathetically "I'm so sorry, babe."

"I'm free," Bucky offered. "And I actually know a decent place that's not too far from here. Since I'm a real New Yorker." The jab effectively stopped the sly grin that was growing on Bernadette's face.

"I--"

"What line did we take to get here?" Bucky asked, and Bernadette sulked. "It just slipped out."

"It's a tourist mistake," Bucky shook his head, tsking. "The green line." 

"Well," Bernadette hmphed, "Steve and I are going to take the G train back home to get ready for dinner." She moved over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I will see you for lunch sometime soon because we can do that now that we live in the same city!" 

You smiled, and reached up to hug Steve as he bent down to say goodbye. 

"Bucky, please do not take my best friend to any godforsaken hole in the wall back alley pizza joint that's definitely just a front. I don't care how good their pizza is," Bernadette cut off his protest and he smiled, shaking his head. 

"You're missing out on all of the best food."

"Ok," Bernadette dismissed, her disbelief dripping from each syllable. She took Steve by the hand, and you and Bucky walked them to the door. "Love you both." And with that, Bernadette and Steve were gone, leaving you alone in your apartment with Bucky. 

He sighed, running a hand through the roots of his hair, despite the fact that it messed up his perfectly done man bun. 

"You don't have to get pizza with me," you said, flashing a quick smile at him. 

"Trying to get rid of me?" Bucky asked, looking down at you amused. 

You shook your head, turning away from him quickly to try to locate your purse amongst the boxes. "No, I just--didn't want you to just come along to be nice. Or because you felt bad that Bernadette ditched so I'm all alone."

"How could I feel bad when you put it like that?" 

"I didn't mean it like--" you started, stuttering and Bucky stopped you, coming up beside you with your purse hanging from his finger. 

"I know. Just rest assured that I'm happy to put up with you for pizza." 

You snatched the purse from him, slinging it across your body as Bucky laughed at you. "Ready?" 

You nodded and the two of you headed out the door.

For all of the inconveniences and tragedies that had befallen you today, the walk to the pizza place was not one of them. In fact, second to seeing Bernadette at your door, it was probably the best part of the entire day. The walk was short, and the September evening air was pleasantly warm. With Bucky and his MMA fighter build next to you, navigating through the neighborhood didn't wrack your nerves as much as it could have. Although, it might not have been Bucky's muscles as much as his easy conversation that provided the comfort. He told you about his job, where to find the best bodegas, and one embarrassing story of Steve growing up. By the time you arrived at Tony's Pizza Spot, you had almost forgotten about how awful your day was.

"Hey Tony," Bucky called out, entering the place, and the owner looked up from where he was cutting a pizza. He jerked his head up in a nod. It was a small wood paneled shop with no tables or counters to sit at. Instead, there was one large display case with different meats and breads. You looked up at the simple menu, and Bucky stood closely next to you despite the fact that you had a feeling he didn't need to look at the offerings.

"Pepperoni and sausage ok?" Bucky asked, and you nodded, scanning the drink refrigerators for any sight of beer. "And for your milkshake?"

You raised your eyebrows at him. "I'm getting a milkshake?"

"You are," he nodded. 

"Well," you looked up at the board. "Cherry vanilla." 

"Excellent choice," Bucky smiled, approaching the counter as Tony tied off the pizza box with twine and then approached. 

"What can I getcha?" he asked his eyes flicking between you and Bucky. 

Bucky placed the order quickly, and Tony nodded, quickly tallying it up on the register. You reached into your purse for your wallet, but Bucky waved you off. "I got this."

"Pretty sure it's customary for the person who just subjected you to two hours of moving stuff to pay for the pizza. "

"Nah," Bucky shook his head, already handing the cash over to Tony."Think of it as a housewarming gift." 

"Just moved to the neighborhood?" Tony asked, passing back Bucky his change, and you nodded. "Welcome." 

"She's right down the street," Bucky said, dumping the change into the tip jar and stuffing the bills back into his pocket. "Figured I'd show her the best pizza spot in town."

"Damn right," Tony grinned, moving away to grab out an already prepped cheese pizza.. "How's Clint doin'? Didn't see him last week."

Bucky shook his head. "Broke his wrist last week, so Kate's placed him under house arrest to make sure he doesn't make it worse like last time. I'm guessing one of them will be in soon." 

Tony had the same look of exasperation as Bucky as he ladeled sauce onto the pizza. "It's always something with him. Broken bones. Concussion. That boy's a walking accident."

You sorted through your memories trying to remember if you had met Clint at the wedding or either of the times you had been up to visit Bernadette at school. The name sounded familiar enough, but you couldn't picture the face. If Bernadette was here she could jog your memory. She'd remind you who Clint was give you a few facts about his life and a quick story so you felt like you knew him already. But she wasn't here. She was off being married, and you were in this tiny pizza shop with a boy you hardly knew who was doing his best to keep you company.

"You ok?" Bucky bumped shoulders with you. You hadn't realized their conversation ended and Tony had moved away to make the milkshakes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you shook your head trying to clear your thoughts. 

Bucky shot you a very disbelieving look. "I can't tell if you're a bad liar or just too tired to try to be good at it."

Your shoulders dropped. Frankly, it was both. "It's nothing...it's stupid," you dismissed.

"Bummed you're stuck here with me instead of Bernie?" Bucky guessed. Very correctly. 

"No," you sighed.  "I just wish she was here too."

"Yeah, I get it," Bucky nodded, facing back forward to watch Tony making the milkshakes. 

You felt bad. After all, Bucky had volunteered to give up his Monday evening to helping you move in. He probably had a whole list of things he'd rather do after work than lug a bookshelf up your stairs, but he'd done it, hadn't complained, and then treated you to pizza. And here you were wishing he was Bernadette. 

"It was kind of rude of your best friend to steal my best friend," you commented with a half smile.

Bucky snorted. "Sorry, your honor, but your best friend stole my best friend."

"What?"

Bucky looked back down at you. "You weren't there. He was gone long before she was. Pretty much the second he met her  it was over for him."

"What, and you were there the second they met?" you sassed back, placing your hands on your hips. 

"Actually, yes," Bucky said, reaching forward to grab a milkshake Tony placed up on the counter. He peered into the top of the cup and passed it over to you. "Steve volunteered both of our services to move in Bernie's stuff."

"I didn't realize you were there," you said, accepting the dessert from Bucky.  "She only ever mentioned Steve."

"Maybe he did steal her away fairly instantly then." Bucky shrugged. "Anyway, you realize there's only one solution to our problem, right?"

You gave him a flat look. "I'm not going to kill them."

"Holy shit, no," Bucky laughed. "That's where you went first?" Your face heated up, and you quickly busied yourself with a sip of the milkshake which was very good. Better than alcohol good. "And?" Bucky asked. 

"It's delicious," you said, returning for another sip before looking back at him. "But what's the solution?"

"We'll be best friends."

"You want to be my best friend?" you asked, with a small smile.

"More like I want you to be my best friend," Bucky said. "Steve's been doing a shit job recently, and you moved all the way from North Carolina to be with Bernie--I like that kind of effort." 

You laughed, and Bucky grinned back, taking his milkshake from off the counter.

"Alright," you agreed, feeling a little bit lighter. "I'm not replacing Bernadette though. You'll just have to be the substitute for when she's not up to par."

"I can work with that," Bucky nodded. "And as my first act as your substitute best friend is to demand to throw you a housewarming party. Don't make plans for next Saturday."

The smile slid off of your face. "No, thank you.  I don't want anyone walking into my trap house apartment."

"Your apartment is not that bad."

"Bucky. It's terrible."

"Your Honor, Steve and I shared a glorified closet for our entire sophomore year of college. We couldn't both stand in our kitchen." Bucky leveled you a glance. "And our friends still came over to visit us."

You mulled it over, stirring your milkshake with the straw. It wasn't a terrible idea. It was bad,, uncomfortable, ill-thought out, and overall not good, but it wasn't terrible. You nodded. "Alright, Your Bestness. Saturday."

"Excellent," Bucky grinned, grabbing the box Tony slid across the counter. "We'll discuss details over pizza." 

Masterlist

[ankewehner]

Livetweet of accidentally getting into fairyland...

Best twitter thread ever?

https://twitter.com/NeolithicSheep/status/1330548523721515013 Shepherd: Oh hey Ursula, do you have the number for those people who take out invasive plants still?

Ursula: Probably somewhere, yeah. They said they didn’t usually work on such small properties, though, and I don’t know if I’ve got an infestation worth their time.

Shepherd: Ok but what if I say "kudzu" to you, can we throw enough money at them to make it worth their time.

Ursula: If you say “kudzu” to me, I will panic, scream, and come running to Dogskull with a flamethrower.

Shepherd: Ok well I suggest driving but maybe pack up the flamethrower. Ursula: OH MY GOD YOU FOUND KUDZU OH GOD WHERE IS IT ARE YOU SURE IT ISN’T JUST WILD GRAPE

Shepherd: YES I KNOW WHAT WILD GRAPE LOOKS LIKE THANK YOU anyway I was walking Beamer this morning after the deer ate breakfast and the white deer was walking down toward the back of the property, you know that low tucked away part? And I thought, well, we'll just trail after her at a polite distance and if I'm lucky I'll find some of her fur caught on a bush! Wouldn't that be great! So we kept going past the big ass fucking oak trees that make, like, that weird arch? And there's kudzu.

Ursula: What big oak trees?! There’s no big oak trees back there! It’s all pine!

Shepherd: Yeah you know, the two really big motherfuckers that look like English oak. They're like, way the fuck back there.

Ursula: There are no English oak on Dogskull. Are you sure you weren’t trespassing on the Freemason’s property?

Shepherd: No they're closer to the front I think? Who's next door to them? Also I thought Dog Skull was 7 acres? Because I should be off it and hitting the road by now.

Ursula: Next door to them is the people with the trailer on its side. Do you see any trailers lying on their sides?

Shepherd: A lot of oak trees, a little bit of kudzu, zero trailers in any orientation. Some birds and squirrels. Oh hey Beamer found a nice pond.

Ursula: Okay, this is important. Do the oak trees still have leaves on them?

Shepherd: Yeah but so does the one up front. Oh wait. These are, uh, still green. Like summer green.

Ursula: Right. Okay. This could be a problem. Give me a couple minutes, we have to take trash to the dump and then I’ll look some stuff up. Meanwhile, DON’T EAT ANYTHING.

Shepherd: You mean in case it's poisonous, right? Like THEORETICALLY if I didn't see this tweet until just now and HYPOTHETICALLY I found an apple tree and ate an apple, that would be fine?

Ursula: ...that would not be fine.

Shepherd: Beamer didn't want any, which was weird I thought.

Ursula: INDUCE VOMITING! INDUCE VOMITING!

Shepherd: He didn't eat anything! I'm not going to gag my dog for not eating an apple!

Ursula: Not the dog! Induce vomiting in yourself! Every chunk of that apple needs to come out before you digest it!

Shepherd: FINE. I have puked it up. It was a really good apple, too.

Ursula: Oh thank god. Whew. Okay. The alternative was that you were gonna need a cold iron enema and I wasn’t sure how to do that on short notice.

Shepherd: Oh hey fun fact, "cold iron" is just, like, iron. It's not a special kind or anything!

Ursula: Do you have any on you right now? Beamer’s collar or tags or anything?

Shepherd: Collar hardware is all aluminum these days, otherwise it rusts. Let me pat down my pockets. Syringe of dewormer? Is that helpful?

Shepherd: Anyway I don't want to alarm you but uh. I can't find the trail I followed? So you and Kevin will need to go over tonight and give the boys [i.e. oxen] a hay bale and the goats and sheep two.

Ursula: No! I am scared of cows! We have to get you out of there! Look, I have a bunch of Llewelyn books from my teenage pagan days. I’m sure Scott Cunningham or Silver Ravenwolf covered this somewhere.

Shepherd: Scott Cunningham seems like a really drastic measure just because you're afraid of some cows. But sooner or later I'm going to run out of cigarettes so sure, why not. Oh!! The boys' bow pins are in my pocket, I was going to sand them today and oil them! They're very definitely iron!

Ursula: That’s good! That’s very good! If anyone tries to talk to you, keep hold of those! Now let’s see...do you consider yourself a “solitary practitioner?”

Shepherd: Ursula I'm an ornamental hermit, you don't get much more solitary. Also so far the only person who tried to talk to me was a frog.

Ursula: ...what did the frog say?

Shepherd: "SMOKING KILLS." I tossed it back in the pond.

Ursula: *rubs forehead*

Shepherd: Fucking frogs are all alike, I'm telling you.

Ursula: I really wish these authors had spent less time on “why Wicca isn’t Satanism” and more time on “what to do when you’ve strayed into the fae realms.” I mean, I understand it was the political climate of the time...

Shepherd: I feel like nobody really covers that last one anymore. You have 4 hours until the cows want dinner.

Ursula: Silver Ravenwolf suggests making your magical working space more inviting with stencils? These books spend a surprising amount of time on interior decorating as a vital part of ritual magick. I never noticed that when I was fifteen.

Shepherd: Yeah me neither honestly. It's remarkably unhelpful when you're stuck in faerie and your collie is getting bored. Shepherd: So you want me to... Build a magical working space and stencil it?

Ursula: I can’t actually see how that would help matters. Maybe I should check the Foxfire books instead.

Shepherd: I... Don't remember them having anything relevant, but I might be wrong?

Ursula: They have everything. Ooh, this one is about how to scald the bristles off a hog!

Shepherd: A) I already know how to do that and B) I do not have a hog, sufficient firewood, or a hog scrubbing brush here. FOCUS, URSULA. FOCUS.

Ursula: Sorry, the ADHD meds haven’t kicked in yet today...uh...let’s see...avoid whippoorwills, if you see any?

Shepherd: I do that already, otherwise they steal your toenails.

Ursula: If you harvest apples, leave one on the tree or it attracts the Devil.

Shepherd: You told me not to eat the apples! Am I allowed to eat the apples now??

Ursula: No! These are hypothetical apples! NO EATING! I tried to look up deer in the Foxfire books and there’s a story about somebody’s grandpa wrestling a buck in a mill dam and drowning it, but I don’t see the relevance here. I mean, Grandpa does sound like a badass, though.

Shepherd: I feel like I shouldn't wrestle deer here. What if I try telling Beamer to find his sheep? 

Ursula: Well, research has hit a small snag. I tried googling for the foxfire books and kudzu, in case there was something about fae kudzu portals, right? But it turns out your Twitter is the third hit. Shep, we may BE the experts.

Shepherd: Uh oh. OK. In that case, you and Kevin go over to Dog Skull. Hitch up Cole and Cannon and take them back to the oak trees. Put a logging chain around one and yell real loud "LET SHEPHERD OUT OR WE START PULLING"

Ursula: Oh hell no! I read tree law Reddit! I know how this ends! Do you want us to get sued by Freemasons?! 

Shepherd: I DON'T THINK THE FREEMASONS ARE THE PROBLEM HERE, URSULA

Ursula: I DON’T TRUST THEM WITH THEIR LITTLE LEVELS AND SHEEPSKINS AND WEIRDLY OCULAR PYRAMIDS Also if you see a pyramid with an eye on it, don’t eat it’s either.

Ursula: Okay. Never mind the Freemasons. I wrote a book about this once, I think. White animals, scary fae, random magic deer. It was set in Finland, so you may need to fashion some umlauts, though.

Shepherd: I've got my chore knife, I can carve so many umlauts. Do I just put them in trees until I get back?

Ursula: First of all, are you wearing pants?

Shepherd: YES I'M WEARING PANTS YOU WEIRDO

Ursula: t’s a legitimate question! I mean, I’m not wearing pants.

Now Shep, this is very important. You have to take off your pants.

Also your shoes, your hoodie, and probably Beamer’s collar.

Shepherd: Ursula. Why are we getting naked.

Ursula: To break the misdirection spell! Put your clothes on backwards!

And possibly inside out? Shit, there’s a bunch of different sources. I don’t know if they have to be inside out, but definitely backwards.

Uh...let’s see...hmm, backwards definitely. Inside out might be for leshy. Leshies? Leshys? What’s the plural form, do you think?

If you happen to see any giggling green hairy dudes, ask them what the plural form of their name is. That’s gonna bug me.

Shepherd: Beamer's collar doesn't have a backwards! I'll turn it inside out. And my clothes backwards and inside out, got it. 

Shepherd: There's just, like, frogs. And squirrels. I can hear music though! There might be a dance party, I could go ask about green hairy dudes?

Ursula: STAY AWAY FROM THE MUSIC unless it’s the Freemasons I guess 

Shepherd: No it's more folk music. The Freemasons play, like, Michael Jackson. 

ANYWAY clothes are backwards and inside out. Beamer's collar is backwards and just to be thorough I tied the rope end of his leash to his collar instead of using the clip, so his leash is backwards too. He's pulling me away from the pond! 

Ursula: Tell him to go find his sheep! 

Shepherd: I have so instructed him! Hopefully there's not, like, the faerie equivalent of really good sheep here. Hey do you want me to grab you an apple 

Ursula: No, they don’t come true from seed, but if you can cut me a decent slightly whippy twig with a few leaves, I might be able to root that sucker. 

Shepherd: ...you want me to pause a collie on a mission while I test the whippiness of twigs?? 

I HEAR MOOING. I SEE PINE TREES. 

Ursula: GO TOWARD THE MOOING

Shepherd: THERE'S THE OLD RUSTED OUT METAL THING! I'm back! On uh the opposite side of the property from the one I left from.

Also there's a goddamned chorus frog calling. 

Ursula: Yeah, they do that.

Ursula: THANK GOD THE KUDZU IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PORTAL

...oh, and you’re back, that’s good too. Very pleased.

Shepherd: Anyway you don't have to feed the boys. Unless you want to?

Ursula: There is no situation where I will WANT to feed your giant-ass death bovines.

Also, what have we learned about following the white doe into the woods?

Shepherd: She knows where the really good apples are? 

Also my boys are tiny!!

Ursula: ...I’m gonna go take a nap.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

A Joint Effort

One-Shot

Description: Sam and Bucky are hesitant and unhappy to fulfill the task at hand.

Warning: None

Queen @jtargaryen18 reached 4k followers! Congratulations Jamie 🎉🎈💃🏻🎊!! This one-shot is my entry for her 4K celebration writing challenge. Click here to participate!

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I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

"You are Captain America!" Bucky exclaimed. 

"And you are the Winter Soldier!" Sam retorted.

"I was the Winter Soldier! Am not anymore and you know that!" hissed Bucky. 

Sam raised his hands, "I did it last time. I am not going to do it again."

"Sam please," Bucky tried to plead with him, "Please don't make me do this. I was tortured by Hydra for decades."

"So? Dude you wrecked my car!" Sam argued aggressively.

"That was one time! ONE TIME!" Bucky raised a finger, "And my mind was being controlled." 

"Whatever man. You gotta do it," Sam pushed the tools towards Bucky.

He whimpered, "She won't talk to me if I do that to her! Remember last year, when it was your turn? She didn't even look at you for 3 months after that! What if my baby decides to hate me now?" wondered Bucky with a slight pout.

Sam folded his hands in resolution, "Then she will join the long list of people who detest you."

As Bucky kept on grumbling, Sam pushed a book towards him. "Look, I don't want to do this either, but we gotta do it for her. That's what the doctor said last time, remember? He said it's supposed to be an annual thing."

"But she hates it," Bucky tried to urge Sam, "She hates it when we do that to her. I mean just look at her right now, she's sleeping so peacefully."

Both the superheros walked towards the door and gazed into the next room, where a beautiful, graceful, furry feline was peacefully sleeping on the couch.

"How am I supposed to wake her up and give her a bath? Especially when it's torturous for her? Sam, that's inhuman," he feebly tried to argue.

Sam almost melted at the thought. Almost. 

Shaking his head, he squared his shoulders and said with determination, "You need to do this. We have to bathe her once every year. That's what the vet said. Now," he placed a book in Bucky's hand, "There are detailed instructions on how to give her a bath, complete with precautionary steps, guidelines and a blueprint of the tower in case she makes a run for it.'

Bucky squinted his eyes at him, "Your plan didn't work last time Sam."

"Of course it did!"

"Sam, the hospital staff thought you had been attacked by a wild animal," Bucky reminded him. 

Sam scoffed, "Not my fault you brought a cat from Wakanda! I mean, why didn't you just get one of your goats?"

"Gerald didn't want to come because Fiona was pregnant. And he had spent his entire life with Fiona and his parents at that farm, so I didn't want to separate him from his family," Bucky replied sincerely. 

Sam's eyes went as wide as teacup saucers. Slowly, he blinked twice and asked him, "Gerald?"

Bucky nodded, "The male goat, or buck, as they are usually called."

"... didn't want to leave Fiona?" Sam repeated slowly.

"Yeah, his wife, who is obviously a female goat, or a doe, as they are called," supplied Bucky as if it was obvious.

Sam still looked bewildered, so Bucky repeated, this time slowly, "Fiona was pregnant. And Gerald had-"

"No no. I heard you the first time," Sam interrupted him, "I was just having a hard time  processing all that information."

Bucky shrugged in response. Then an idea popped into his head, "I really miss Gerald these days. He was such a nice goat you know? All he ever-"

"Oh hell no! You are not going to emotionally blackmail me with your steel blue puppy eyes!" Sam exclaimed as Bucky gave up in defeat.

"Okay how about this? We do it together. I will lure her in with snacks, and lock the door. You prepare the tub and wash her while I hold her back and keep feeding her treats," suggested Bucky, "What do you think?"

Sam pondered for a moment, "Yeah okay. That could work."

Over the next hour, both the superheros bent over the book, outlining the new plan and jotting down the course of action.

Finally when they were ready, Bucky gently woke up Mrs Marshmallow. The white, soft and adorable feline opened her large eyes and yawned at him, looking a bit disgruntled to have been awoken from her sleep. But as soon as Bucky kept her favorite treats in front of her, she stretched and snacked on them.

Bucky kept placing treats on the ground in the form of a trail, so that Mrs Marshmallow followed him till they reached the entrance of the bathroom. He tentatively placed one last piece of treat inside the bathroom, and as soon as Mrs Marshmallow entered, Sam closed the door and locked it. 

Slowly chewing her food, Mrs Marshmallow looked up at the two of them, then took in her surroundings. 

"Meow?" 

"Sorry baby, but you need a bath," Bucky told her.

"Meeeow!"

"I know baby, but we have to give you a bath. I am truly sorry honey but we have no choice," Bucky tried to reason with her.

"Meeeeeow! Meeeow!! Meeeeoooww!"

"Okay miss that kind of language will not be tolerated in this house," Sam scolded her as he picked her up and placed her in the tub.

The nightmare that ensued in the next 2 hours will probably haunt Sam and Bucky for the rest of their lives. 

A drenched Bucky opened the bathroom door and out walked a disgusted, and freshly washed Mrs Marshmallow, her tail swishing in annoyance and mistrust as she headed for the door of the apartment.

Soaked with soap and water, Sam went ahead and opened it for her as Bucky followed the pair, limping on his way.

Thanks to the commotion caused in the bathroom, quite a small crowd of people had gathered outside their apartment at the Avengers/Stark Tower.

Fury screamed and jumped aside as Mrs Marshmallow left the apartment and went towards Wanda. "Awww what did they do to you kitten?" she cooed at the feline.

"Meooooow!"

Wanda gasped sarcastically, "Oh my God! Are you serious? We need to talk about this over catnip. C'mon," she led the cat towards her room, laughing all the way as Maria glared at Sam and Bucky.

"Are you kidding me?" Maria asked them, "Both of you are buff superheros. You fight terrorists, aliens and God knows what for a living! And you couldn't bathe a small cat?"

"Small cat?!" Fury looked at Maria with shock and fear, "Did you see the size of that monster?"

"Mrs Marshmallow is not a monster," both Sam and Bucky said in unison.

Maria rolled her eyes, "Just because one cat clawed out your eye that doesn't mean every cat is a monster."

"Wait…" muttered Bucky.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Sam.

"Maria!" Fury said in a threatening tone.

She smirked and walked away, leaving the three men in uncomfortable silence.

"Sooooo-" Sam started to say, but Fury cut him off. "Not. A. Word. Am I clear?" Fury growled.

As soon as he left, both the men doubled down giggling, but immediately regretted it. 

"Oww!" 

"Ugh!" 

"Let's head towards the med bay," Bucky suggested, limping towards Sam.

Sam nodded, "What do you know about Fury's eye?"

"All I have ever heard are urban myths and rumours," admitted Bucky, "It is said that back when he was still an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, he met Captain Marvel and her pet cat, who was an alien. Giant tentacles would come out from the cat's mouth and swallow entire vehicles, jets, and even people! Some people say that it was the same cat that scratched out his eye."

"I wonder if any of it is true," Sam thought. 

2 WEEKS LATER, Mrs Marshmallow was still sour with Sam and Bucky. Both the gentlemen tried to shower her with her favourite food, toys and what not. Still, there was no swaying the feline. Unknown to them, she was seeking revenge.

And so one night, when Bucky was fast asleep, Mrs Marshmallow entered his room stealthily and looked for his vibranium arm. He often removed it before sleeping and kept it on the chair besides his dresser. She slowly went towards the arm, and opened her mouth. Large, thick tentacles emerged from her mouth and grabbed the arm. The tentacles retracted back in her orifice as she swallowed the whole vibranium arm without flinching her eyes. 

She then turned towards Sam's room and swallowed the compact bag that contained his giant metal wings.

Bucky woke up a few hours later and immediately noticed his missing arm. "Sam! SAM! Where is my arm?" he shouted as he looked for him in the apartment.

Sam emerged from the kitchen with a bowl, whisking the pancake batter, "What's wrong? You need a hand?" he snickered. 

"Yes I need my hand!" Bucky showed him his shoulder stump, "Where did you hide it?"

"Hide what?"

"My arm! Ugh! Sam I am not in the mood for games!"

"And I am not playing any!" Sam defended himself, "I know I have hidden your arm in the past, and I know I have even laughed at you about it for days, because it's always hilarious, but-"

"I am checking your room," Bucky snapped and entered Sam's room. 

He came out a few minutes later, "Sam, even your wings are gone."

Sam dropped the pancake he was about to flip, "WHAT?!" he exclaimed in shock.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y was there an unauthorised entry last night in our apartment?" Bucky asked the AI.

"No Mr Barnes," came the prompt reply.

"We need to inform Fury about the robbery and secure a perimeter," Sam supplied as they prepared to leave the apartment in a hurry, worried about a potential breach in the security system.

Both the superheros kept food and water for the cat and left. Mrs Marshmallow gladly ate her imported tuna mush in peace, relishing every bite with leisure without a care in the world.

This fic was inspired by this beautiful image created by @muffinshark 😍😍😍

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Permanent tag: @donutloverxo @notyourtypicalrose @just-one-ordinary-fangirl

Taglist for Bucky: @loustan90

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 18: Sex and Set backs.

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary:   With Eddie weighed down with worry, he's not much for getting it up, so Venom steps in to ease a tense Candy's stress. Candy's best-laid plans play out.

Warnings/Tags: Candy x Venom sexual content. Talks of defeat, revenge. 

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters.

Eddie hadn’t been sleeping particularly well and it was time for Venom’s weekly feeding, a combination that led them both to be more difficult to deal with. Without Candy they went out someplace new and snatched up a mugger. Just another Friday night. They return to Candy’s through the upstairs window left open on this particular night every week so escape was seamless.

Venom was feeling very full and satisfied afterward, alive and awake. The total opposite of Eddie. They shut the window behind them as they spilled into the dark room to see Candy in bed. Eddie is relieved at the mere sight of her safe and resting, posed under the thick comforter. Venom rustles inside him at the sight. Blood pumps fast through them, both theirs and the latest victims.

“Let’s have her Eddie.” Venom hisses hungrily in his tired mind. “She is relaxed and she tastes so good when she’s like this. Bet she tastes like strawberries.”

While stripping off his clothes sloppily and stumbling all the way, with none of the grace he held while Venom was in control, Eddie groans. “Yeah, she’s hit the daiquiris hard lately. But I’m too tired, man. We’re sleepin'.”

“You may sleep. I can be awake for… lots of things.” Eddie feels a prickling up his spine that he wishes he could react to, but his spirit just wasn’t as willing as his symbiotic counterpart was.

“Yeah, sure, whatever dude. Go for it.“ he dismisses him with a yawn and crawls into bed to a mewling woman. He hadn't thought Candy would go for it, but a horny alien wasn't something he had the energy to barter with right now. He didn’t even notice she was wearing lingerie when he pulled back the covers. He was already out as she stirred to kiss his cheek.

With a frown, she sighs, running her fingers through his hair. It was hard to be mad at him when he looked like that. He’d been so sweet and protective lately, but not in an overbearing way. She expected him to come home a ball of energy as he usually did after Venom fed. But she was left with a sleepy puppy who wasn’t any use to her needs tonight.

“Night Eddie baby.” she gives him another kiss before rolling over to her side of the bed. “Goodnight Venom” she calls out sweetly.

“You are not sleepy.” he responds.

She turns her head to see him looming over her. “Well, not exactly no.” she shrugs.

“You are... disappointed. And… aroused.” his second accusation is growled out and she narrows her eyes at him as he leans in closer. “I can smell you, Candy.”

“Yeah I…” she takes a breath to see Venom and his silky skin just like her nightie rippling at her confession. “...wanted to have sex with you tonight. I needed some stress relief and some, closeness, y’know but…” she motions her head to Eddie’s softly snoring face mushed into a pillow.

“He is tired. But I am not.” he grins and rubs against her cheek as affectionate as a cat in his mannerisms.

“Well I kinda... need him don’t I?” she huffs out an almost nervous laugh, getting ready to roll over, call it a loss and try again tomorrow.

“Do we?” he suggests, the tone and question caught her attention. “We are close Candy. As close as you and Eddie. We are three. We are all one now. A team. Why can we not play without Eddie when you and Eddie play without Venom.” there was no hurt in his voice but something peculiar to it.

“I…” she looks over at the sleeping man, oblivious. “I don’t know? I’ve never talked about it with Eddie.” It was almost an excuse but it was also the truth. She didn’t want to cross any lines she couldn’t step back over later with Eddie.

“I have.” Venom bows.

“You have? Really?” she pauses and looks around the room in thought. The information came as a surprise. But perhaps it shouldn’t? “What did he say?” Her voice is quiet and Venom can feel the curiosity in it.

“He said he didn’t care.” A tendril flips out casually in its explanation.

"Really?” she challenges over with uncertainty clear on her face.

“Yes.” he nods again.

“I mean... I was looking forward to it all day, I’ve been… annoyed and horny and thought he might wanna get close and fool around before we went to sleep.”

“I can do those things.”

“Well, I was going to include you.” she grins sheepishly, making him hum contentedly.

“Then let me take care of you. We have been growing closer Candy. You and I. Venom and Candy. Yes? With the murders. The vengeance and the blood. I can hear your heart race, feel your body vibrate with excitement. I know what it does to you. It does not do this to Eddie. We understand one another.”

“I get killing for survival, killing one to save many, yeah.”

“Yes, and I want to… reward you for it. It is so nice to have a human understand.”

“Reward me?”

“Give you what you want tonight. I’ve wanted some one on one time with you, but the occasion has never presented itself in such a way.”

“By one on one you mean-“

“Let us fuck, Candy, our sweet. Our babe, our love, our-.”

“You’re being very sweet Venom... but Eddie.”

“I told him I could handle your needs alone. He did not care.”

“You aren’t lying are you Venom?”

“Lying is what bad people do. And we are not bad.”

“No, you are not.” She shakes her head and believes him. And technically, he wasn’t lying. “I don’t wanna wake up the poor baby if he’s that tired.” After a pause, and a small snore from Eddie she continues.”How do you want to… do this?”

“Quietly.”

She smiles at his answer. “Yes, and without much movement.”

“Agreed. Which is easily achieved with me.” A certain pride comes from his animated face.

“That’s true, you slippery thing.” She coos affectionately.

“Then let me explore you, our beautiful girl. Let us make you cum.”

The words in his deep tone that sounded like Eddies but with a wild distortion and bass makes her blush at the words. She agrees and lays back, watching him slither up and caress her face.

“You are nervous. Why?”

“We’ve never done this. Just you and I. It’s like our first time or something.” She gives him a more reassuring smile.

“And I will rock your world.” He promises with a lick of her cheek. She forgives the dated terminology immediately and feels the soft warm silk and slip of him against her skin.

He slinks beneath her nightie with no trouble, warm and almost wet as he moves across her like vines. A circling and sucking of her nipples first, a heavy caress of her thighs before parting her legs himself. Reassuring strokes to her skin when he felt her heart speed up, feeling the tension growing between her legs and waiting for his moment. Without Eddie's thoughts, without any orders or suggestions, he’s free to do as he pleases. He uses her as a playground and explores almost every bit of her. He covers her almost entirely, becoming in tune with her on a more intimate level. He knew her pulse, her Ph, her ticklish spots and the way her breath escaped her lips in a sweet puff that smelled of a fruity cocktail she’d had before bed.

He begins the part he’d craved, to be solely responsible for a woman’s orgasm. Eddie took such pride in it that Venom wanted it for his own. He could make Eddie cum, he could make Eddie squeal like a pig if he wanted, but a woman was different, more Complicated and his complex brain was wanting the challenge. Tendrils encase her, pressure and strokes, lapping at her clit first, teasing around her opening as she grew wetter for it. He sucked and flicked, pinched and circled all the while waiting to hear those moans that got Eddie, and thus him, so hard.

She holds it in with shakey breaths at first. A bitten lip and eyes squeezed shut to cope but eventually one does escape As her toes curl, her hips buck, he's there to catch it. He covers her mouth and allows her to breathe through her nose and still make all the sound she wanted.

“See? Quiet. Only I can hear you now Candy. Let me feel all those sounds of pleasure. I want to know what I’m doing to you.”

She nods, not left with any choice really but to give in, and it was glorious.

He could feel her swollen insides, pushing on the outside to the underlying pleasurable pieces of her clit, a pressure to her lower stomach as he enters her, each stroke growing in girth until she whines at the stretch.

“You can take so much, Candy. So much more than Eddie. You can take me. I can touch you in ways he never could. We love Eddie, don’t we Candy? But he cannot do this.” And with the taunt he swells to push her insides, hooking over her pelvic bone and surrounding her cervix she lets out a wanton moan she’d never released before. She felt so impossibly full. Every inch of her full and throbbing with him. He pulsed like a vein inside her, a tendril rubbing away at her clit and within a few beats, she was gone.

He encased her shaking body, extensions between her fingers to hold her fisted hand and keep her from waking his host. A rush of cum from her from the pressure is whisked away by him and savored. Something he’d never tasted before and hoped to taste again. Eddie would like this, he thought. Eddie would like to see Candy enjoying herself like this. Venom was already planning how to play with her while Eddie watched.

“There, there.” He whispers, resting her back in the bed and brushing her hair back. “That was perfect our sweet.” He states softly in her ear as he unravels around her and leaving her mouth last so she didn’t make too much noise.

“That was perfect.” She agrees and smiles out a quiet dopey laugh. Giddy on the high of her first full-body, squirting orgasm. “I… I needed that. Thank you. Thanks for… talking me into it.”

“We can do it again soon.” A smile of his rows of sharp teeth didn’t frighten her anymore. The moonlight hit them like pearls and his veins shined like Opal. He was a beautiful thing, truly.

“Yes, we can.” She strokes his cheek as he nuzzles back. “Do you mind if I sleep now? You kinda… wore me out.”

“You get sleepy after orgasms.” He states it as the observational fact that it is.

“I do.” She admits.

“Sleep then Candy. I will see to Eddie. We will be with you tomorrow.”

“Night sweetheart.” She sighs out as he pulls the covers up over her shoulder.

And Eddie was none the wiser.

——————

Despite what Candy considered the most dangerous bits of her plan being over, it was never far from her mind. Having the two boys in her life made things easier most of the time, others not so much. Like when she would get lost in thought and someone was there to snap her out of it. She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to worry them when they asked what was wrong. Like now. She wished someone had told her that doing the right thing would be so hard.

She was at work, a place where she could usually find some distraction from her worries. She’d kept this case entirely separate and had done a good job. Or so she thought.

She’s handed her usual stack of mail and goes to open them, nothing out of the ordinary until she unfolds a very generic looking envelope.

“You have been warned. Stop now. Or face the consequences.”

No header, no signature or anything else on the blank page. For as vague as it was, it was perfectly clear what it was about. This was a sign she thought. They’re worried. She’s got something that could do some damage. But they would be looking to her to make the next move. So she had to be one step ahead.

Candy has everything lined up. The footage and proof all set and now given over to the small-time reporter looking to take on the big guys Candy couldn’t. The exchange was simple. Candy's name was left out, there was no footage or the sound of her voice on the videos, she could now sit back and watch it all unfold. She had done it. She’d outsmarted them.

Except it didn’t happen.

There was nothing for a week. Candy became worried, reaching out to the girl and receiving nothing in response. She takes the chance to go to the brick and mortar of the small paper and she was there, but reluctant to talk. She spoke with her in a backroom and was clearly shaken.

Tells her she should forget it. She can’t say more. But she isn’t the woman to do it for her. Telling her the proof was gone. The things she printed were gone. Her laptop, phone, everything. Telling candy to be careful because who they were messing with was willing to use violence to keep the status quo.

And with that, Candy was left to feel defeated again, guilty for a new reason. These men weren’t fucking around. But neither was Candy. But what could she do to get back at people with infinite resources? Venom couldn’t eat them all. As much as he’d like to try I’m sure. She needed something new. Something they couldn’t touch.

——-

“I don’t know Candy. I think we should leave it.” Eddies rubbed the back of his neck defensively.

“Really? They’re breaking the law, raping women and covering it up. Threatening people to keep quiet about it. It’s bad!”

“And YOU don’t have to be the one to expose it. I’m sorry babe, I really am but it’s not worth the risk. Venom and I… we can only keep you so safe.”

“We just need something they can’t deny! Something-“

“Something that’s going to draw too much attention to you. I need you to stop and think for a minute. You’re just one person. A major network won’t take this, won’t print it, won’t broadcast it or post it. There’s no way to get it out there without them knowing and it reaching enough people to make it known. It’s just not in our power. Maybe just do a piece on Roofies? No names or places or accusations?”

“They need to pay for what they did.” He sees her growing more tired, the hurt and sadness and fear catching up to her as she took a shakeup inhale.

“Comfort her.” Venom whispers and moves him towards her.

Eddie holds her and it only takes a moment for her to break. She starts to cry, and for so many reasons. Frustration, it all felt so unfair. The fear she felt that night, the need to help others and keep them from suffering the same fate or far worse. She was powerless against them no matter how much she fought, there was no winning this one.

“I’m so sorry Candy. I know how much this meant to you.” He didn’t know what else to say. And neither did Venom. He felt Eddie's pain, a dark cloud washing over them at being unable to fix it, unable to save those that needed to be saved. But even he and Venom have their limits.

@hardygal69​​ @marvelgirl7​​ @emerald-bijou @brianaisasongbird​​ @vale0413​​ @izzy-the-ginger​​ @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox​​ @nightcraver​​ @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco​​ @chipster-21​​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​​ @queenof-wakanda @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​​ @jaegeeeeer​

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2020

I can’t tell you anything novel or insightful about this year that has been stolen from our lives. I watched zero of these films in a theater, and I watched most of them half-asleep in moments that I stole from my children. Don’t worry, there are some jokes below.

GARBAGE

93. Capone (Josh Trank)- What is the point of this dinner theater trash? It takes place in the last year of Capone's life, when he was released from prison due to failing health and suffered a stroke in his Florida home. So it covers...none of the things that make Al Capone interesting? It's not historically accurate, which I have no problem with, but if you steer away from accuracy, then do something daring and exciting. Don't give me endless scenes of "Phonse"--as if the movie is running from the very person it's about--drawing bags of money that promise intrigue, then deliver nothing in return.

That being said, best "titular character shits himself" scene since The Judge.

92. Ammonite (Francis Lee)- I would say that this is the Antz to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's A Bug's Life, but it's actually more like the Cars 3 to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's Toy Story 1.

91. Ava (Tate Taylor)- Despite the mystery and inscrutability that usually surround assassins, what if we made a hitman movie but cared a lot about her personal life? Except neither the assassin stuff nor the family stuff is interesting?

90. Wonder Woman 1984 (Patty Jenkins)- What a miscalculation of what audiences loved about the first and wanted from the sequel. WW84 is silly and weightless in all of the ways that the first was elegant and confident. If the return of Pine is just a sort of phantom representation of Diana's desires, then why can he fly a real plane? If he is taking over another man's soul, then, uh, what ends up happening to that guy? For that matter, why is it not 1984 enough for Ronald Reagan to be president, but it is 1984 enough for the president to have so many Ronald Reagan signifiers that it's confusing? Why not just make a decision?

On paper, the me-first values of the '80s lend themselves to the monkey's paw wish logic of this plot. You could actually do something with the Star Wars program or the oil crisis. But not if the setting is played for only laughs and the screenplay explains only what it feels like.

89. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy)- In this type of movie, there has to be a period of the Ben Mendelsohn character looking around befuddled about the new arrangement and going, "What's this now--he's going to be...living with us? The guy who tried to steal our medication? This is crazy!" But that's usually ten minutes, and in this movie it's an hour. I was so worn out by the end.

88. You Should Have Left (David Koepp)- David Koepp wrote Jurassic Park, so he's never going to hell, but how dare he start caring about his own mystery at the hour mark. There's a forty-five minute version of this movie that could get an extra star from me, and there's a three-hour version of Amanda Seyfried walking around in athleisure that would get four stars from me. What we actually get? No thanks.

87. Black Is King (Beyonce, et al.)- End your association with The Lion King, Bey. It has resulted in zero bops.

  ADMIRABLE FAILURES

86. Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan)- There's nothing too dysfunctional in the storytelling or performances, but Birds of Prey also doesn't do a single thing well. I would prefer something alive and wild, even if it were flawed, to whatever tame belt-level formula this is.

85. The Turning (Floria Sigismondi)- This update of The Turn of the Screw pumps the age of Miles up to high school, which creates some horny creepiness that I liked. But the age of the character also prevents the ending of the novel from happening in favor of a truly terrible shrug. I began to think that all of the patience that the film showed earlier was just hesitance for its own awful ending.

I watched The Turning as a Mackenzie Davis Movie Star heat check, and while I'm not sure she has the magnetism I was looking for, she does have a great teacher voice, chastening but maternal.

84. Bloodshot (David Wilson)- A whole lot of Vin Diesel saying he's going to get revenge and kill a bunch of dudes; not a whole lot of Vin Diesel actually getting revenge and killing a bunch of dudes.

83. Downhill (Nat Faxon and Jim Rash)- I was an English major in college, which means I ended up locking myself into literary theories that, halfway through the writing of an essay, I realized were flawed. But rather than throw out the work that I had already proposed, I would just keep going and see if I could will the idea to success.

So let's say you have a theory that you can take Force Majeure by Ruben Ostlund, one of the best films of its year, and remake it so that its statement about familial anxiety could apply to Americans of the same age and class too...if it hadn't already. And maybe in the first paragraph you mess up by casting Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, people we are conditioned to laugh at, when maybe this isn't that kind of comedy at all. Well, don't throw it away. You can quote more--fill up the pages that way--take an exact shot or scene from the original. Does that help? Maybe you can make the writing more vigorous and distinctive by adding a character. Is that going to make this baby stand out? Maybe you could make it more personal by adding a conclusion that is slightly more clever than the rest of the paper?

Or perhaps this is one you're just not going to get an A on.

82. Hillbilly Elegy (Ron Howard)- I watched this melodrama at my mother's encouragement, and, though I have been trying to pin down her taste for decades, I think her idea of a successful film just boils down to "a lot of stuff happens." So in that way, Ron Howard's loss is my gain, I guess.

There is no such thing as a "neutral Terminator."

81. Relic (Natalie Erika James)- The star of the film is Vanessa Cerne's set decoration, but the inert music and slow pace cancel out a house that seems neglected slowly over decades.

80. Buffaloed (Tanya Wexler)- Despite a breathless pace, Buffaloed can't quite congeal. In trying to split the difference between local color hijinks and Moneyballed treatise on debt collection, it doesn't commit enough to either one.

Especially since Zoey Deutch produced this one in addition to starring, I'm getting kind of worried about boo's taste. Lot of Two If by Seas; not enough While You Were Sleepings.

79. Like a Boss (Miguel Arteta)- I chuckled a few times at a game supporting cast that is doing heavy lifting. But Like a Boss is contrived from the premise itself--Yeah, what if people in their thirties fell out of friendship? Do y'all need a creative consultant?--to the escalation of most scenes--Why did they have to hide on the roof? Why do they have to jump into the pool?

The movie is lean, but that brevity hurts just as much as it helps. The screenplay knows which scenes are crucial to the development of the friendship, but all of those feel perfunctory, in a different gear from the setpieces.  

To pile on a bit: Studio comedies are so bare bones now that they look like Lifetime movies. Arteta brought Chuck & Buck to Sundance twenty years ago, and, shot on Mini-DV for $250,000, it was seen as a DIY call-to-bootstraps. I guarantee that has more setups and locations and shooting days than this.

78. Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (David Dobkin)- Add Dan Stevens to the list of supporting players who have bodied Will Ferrell in his own movie--one that he cared enough to write himself.  

Like Downhill, Ferrell's other 2020 release, this isn't exactly bad. It's just workmanlike and, aside from the joke about Demi Lovato's "uninformed" ghost, frustratingly conventional.

77. The Traitor (Marco Bellochio)- Played with weary commitment by Pierfrancesco Favino, Tomasso Buscetta is "credited" as the first informant of La Cosa Nostra. And that sounds like an interesting subject for a "based on a true story" crime epic, right? Especially when you find out that Buscetta became a rat out of principle: He believed that the mafia to which he had pledged his life had lost its code to the point that it was a different organization altogether.  

At no point does Buscetta waver or even seem to struggle with his decision though, so what we get is less conflicted than that description might suggest. None of these Italian mob movies glorify the lifestyle, so I wasn't expecting that. But if the crime doesn't seem enticing, and snitching on the crime seems like forlorn duty, and everything is pitched with such underhanded matter-of-factness that you can't even be sure when Buscetta has flipped, then what are we left with? It was interesting seeing how Italian courts work, I guess?

76. Kajillionaire (Miranda July)- This is another movie so intent on building atmosphere and lore that it takes too long to declare what it is. When the protagonist hits a breaking point and has to act, she has only a third of a film to grow. So whispery too.

Gina Rodriguez is the one to inject life into it. As soon as her motormouth winds up, the film slips into a different gear. The atmosphere and lore that I mentioned reeks of artifice, but her character is believably specific. Beneath a basic exterior is someone who is authentically caring but still morally compromised, beholden to the world that the other characters are suspicious of.

75. Scoob! (Tony Cervone)- The first half is sometimes clever, but it hammers home the importance of friendship while separating the friends.

The second half has some positive messaging, but your kids' movie might have a problem with scale if it involves Alexander the Great unlocking the gates of the Underworld.

My daughter loved it.

74. The Lovebirds (Michael Showalter)- If I start talking too much about this perfectly fine movie, I end up in that unfair stance of reviewing the movie I wanted, not what is actually there.* As a fan of hang-out comedies, I kind of resent that any comedy being made now has to be rolled into something more "exciting," whether it's a wrongfully accused or mistaken identity thriller or some other genre. Such is the post-Game Night world. There's a purposefully anti-climactic note that I wish The Lovebirds had ended on, but of course we have another stretch of hiding behind boats and shooting guns. Nanjiani and Rae are really charming leads though.

*- As a New Orleanian, I was totally distracted by the fake aspects of the setting too. "Oh, they walked to Jefferson from downtown? Really?" You probably won't be bothered by the locations.

73. Sonic the Hedgehog (Jeff Fowler)- In some ways the storytelling is ambitious. (I'm speaking for only myself, but I'm fine with "He's a hedgehog, and he's really fast" instead of the owl mother, teleportation backstory. Not everything has to be Tolkien.) But that ambition doesn't match the lack of ambition in the comedy, which depends upon really hackneyed setups and structures. Guiding Jim Carrey to full alrighty-then mode was the best choice anyone made.

72. Malcolm & Marie (Sam Levinson)- The stars move through these long scenes with agility and charisma, but the degree of difficulty is just too high for this movie to reach what it's going for.

Levinson is trying to capture an epic fight between a couple, and he can harness the theatrical intensity of such a thing, but he sacrifices almost all of the nuance. In real life, these knock-down-drag-outs can be circular and indirect and sad in a way that this couple's manipulation rarely is. If that emotional truth is all this movie is trying to achieve, I feel okay about being harsh in my judgment of how well it does that.

71. Beanpole (Kantemir Balagov)- Elusive in how it refuses to declare itself, forthright in how punishing it is. The whole thing might be worth it for a late dinner scene, but I'm getting a bit old to put myself through this kind of misery.

70. The Burnt Orange Heresy (Giuseppe Capotondi)- Silly in good ways until it's silly in bad ways. Elizabeth Debicki remains 6'3".

69. Everybody’s Everything (Sebastian Jones and Ramez Silyan)- As a person who listened to Lil Peep's music, I can confidently say that this documentary is overstating his greatness. His death was a significant loss, as the interview subjects will all acknowledge, but the documentary is more useful as a portrait of a certain unfocused, rapacious segment of a generation that is high and online at all times.

68. The Witches (Robert Zemeckis)- Robert Zemeckis, Kenya Barris, and Guillermo Del Toro are the credited screenwriters, and in a fascinating way, you can see the imprint of each figure on the final product. Adapting a very European story to the old wives' tales of the American South is an interesting choice. Like the Nicolas Roeg try at this material, Zemeckis is not afraid to veer into the terrifying, and Octavia Spencer's pseudo witch doctor character only sells the supernatural. From a storytelling standpoint though, it seems as if the obstacles are overcome too easily, as if there's a whole leg of the film that has been excised. The framing device and the careful myth-making of the flashback make promises that the hotel half of the film, including the abrupt ending, can't live up to.

If nothing else, Anne Hathaway is a real contender for Most On-One Performance of the year.

67. Irresistible (Jon Stewart)- Despite a sort of imaginative ending, Jon Stewart's screenplay feels more like the declarative screenplay that would get you hired for a good movie, not a good screenplay itself. It's provocative enough, but it's clumsy in some basic ways and never evades the easy joke.

For example, the Topher Grace character is introduced as a sort of assistant, then is re-introduced an hour later as a polling expert, then is shown coaching the candidate on presentation a few scenes later. At some point, Stewart combined characters into one role, but nothing got smoothed out.

ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS

66. Yes, God, Yes (Karen Maine)- Most people who are Catholic, including me, are conflicted about it. Most people who make movies about being Catholic hate it and have an axe to grind. This film is capable of such knowing wit and nuance when it comes to the lived-in details of attending a high school retreat, but it's more concerned with taking aim at hypocrisy in the broad way that we've seen a million times. By the end, the film is surprisingly all-or-nothing when Christian teenagers actually contain multitudes.

Part of the problem is that Karen Maine's screenplay doesn't know how naive to make the Alice character. Sometimes she's reasonably naive for a high school senior in 2001; sometimes she's comically naive so that the plot can work; and sometimes she's stupid, which isn't the same as naive.

65. Bad Boys for Life (Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah)- This might be the first buddy cop movie in which the vets make peace with the tech-comm youngs who use new techniques. If that's the only novelty on display here--and it is--then maybe that's enough. I laughed maybe once. Not that the mistaken identity subplot of Bad Boys 1 is genius or anything, but this entry felt like it needed just one more layer to keep it from feeling as basic as it does. Speaking of layers though, it's almost impossible to watch any Will Smith movie now without viewing it through the meta-narrative of "What is Will Smith actually saying about his own status at this point in his career?" He's serving it up to us.

I derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from seeing the old school Simpson/Bruckheimer logo.

64. The Gentlemen (Guy Ritchie)- Look, I'm not going to be too negative on a movie whose crime slang is so byzantine that it has to be explained with subtitles. That's just me. I'm a simple man. But I can tell you that I tuned out pretty hard after seven or eight double-crosses.

The bloom is off the rose a bit for Ritchie, but he can still nail a music cue. I've been waiting for someone to hit "That's Entertainment" the way he does on the end credits.

63. Bad Hair (Justin Simien)- In Bad Hair, an African-American woman is told by her boss at a music video channel in 1989 that straightening her hair is the way to get ahead; however, her weave ends up having a murderous mind of its own. Compared to that charged, witty logline, the execution of the plot itself feels like a laborious, foregone conclusion. I'm glad that Simien, a genuinely talented writer, is making movies again though. Drop the skin-care routine, Van Der Beek!

62. Greyhound (Aaron Schneider)- "If this is the type of role that Tom Hanks writes for himself, then he understands his status as America's dad--'wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove'--even better than I thought." "America's Dad! Aye aye, sir!" "At least half of the dialogue is there for texture and authenticity, not there to be understood by the audience." "Fifty percent, Captain!" "The environment looks as fake as possible, but I eventually came around to the idea that the movie is completely devoid of subtext." "No subtext to be found, sir!"

  61. Mank (David Fincher)- About ten years ago, the Creative Screenwriting podcast spent an hour or so with James Vanderbilt, the writer of Zodiac and nothing else that comes close, as he relayed the creative paces that David Fincher pushed him through. Hundreds of drafts and years of collaborative work eventuated in the blueprint for Fincher's most exacting, personal film, which he didn't get a writing credit on only because he didn't seek one.

Something tells me that Fincher didn't ask for rewrites from his dead father. No matter what visuals and performances the director can coax from the script--and, to be clear, these are the worst visuals and performances of his career--they are limited by the muddy lightweight pages. There are plenty of pleasures, like the slippery election night montage or the shakily platonic relationship between Mank and Marion. But Fincher hadn't made a film in six years, and he came back serving someone else's master.

60. Tesla (Michael Almereyda)- "You live inside your head." "Doesn't everybody?"

As usual, Almereyda's deconstructions are invigorating. (No other moment can match the first time Eve Hewson's Anne fact-checks something with her anachronistic laptop.) But they don't add up to anything satisfying because Tesla himself is such an opaque figure. Driven by the whims of his curiosity without a clear finish line, the character gives Hawke something enigmatic to play as he reaches deep into a baritone. But he's too inward to lend himself to drama. Tesla feels of a piece with Almereyda's The Experimenter, and that's the one I would recommend.

59. Vitalina Varela (Pedro Costa)- I can't oversell how delicately beautiful this film is visually. There's a scene in which Vitalina lugs a lantern into a church, but we get several seconds of total darkness before that one light source carves through it and takes over part of the frame. Each composition is as intricate as it is overpowering, achieving a balance between stark and mannered.

That being said, most of the film is people entering or exiting doors. I felt very little of the haunting loss that I think I was supposed to.

58. The Rhythm Section (Reed Morano)- Call it the Timothy Hutton in The General's Daughter Corollary: If a name-actor isn't in the movie much but gets third billing, then, despite whom he sends the protagonist to kill, he is the Actual Bad Guy.  

Even if the movie serves up a lot of cliche, the action and sound design are visceral. I would like to see more from Morano.

57. Red, White and Blue (Steve McQueen)- Well-made and heartfelt even if it goes step-for-step where you think it will.

Here's what I want to know though: In the academy training sequence, the police cadets have to subdue a "berserker"; that is, a wildman who swings at their riot gear with a sledgehammer. Then they get him under control, and he shakes their hands, like, "Good angle you took on me there, mate." Who is that guy and where is his movie? Is this full-time work? Is he a police officer or an independent contractor? What would happen if this exercise didn't go exactly as planned?

56. Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart)- The visuals have an unfinished quality that reminded me of The Tale of Princess Kaguya--the center of a flame is undrawn white, and fog is just negative space. There's an underlying symmetry to the film, and its color palette changes with mood.

Narratively, it's pro forma and drawn-out. Was Riley in Inside Out the last animated protagonist to get two parents? My daughter stuck with it, but she needed a lot of context for the religious atmosphere of 17th century Ireland.

55. What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (Rob Garver)- The film does little more than one might expect; it's limited in the way that any visual medium is when trying to sum up a woman of letters. But as far as education for Kael's partnership with Warren Beatty or the idea of The New Yorker paying her for only six months out of the year, it was useful for me.  

Although Garver isn't afraid to point to the work that made Kael divisive, it would have been nice to have one or two interview subjects who questioned her greatness, rather than the crew of Paulettes who, even when they do say something like, "Sometimes I radically disagreed with her," do it without being able to point to any specifics.

54. Beastie Boys Story (Spike Jonze)- As far as this Spike Jonze completist is concerned, this is more of a Powerpoint presentation than a movie, Beastie Boys Story still warmed my heart, making me want to fire up Paul's Boutique again and take more pictures of my buddies.

53. Tenet (Christopher Nolan)- Cool and cold, tantalizing and frustrating, loud and indistinct, Tenet comes close to Nolan self-parody, right down to the brutalist architecture and multiple characters styled like him. The setpieces grabbed me, I'll admit.

Nolan's previous film, which is maybe his best, was "about" a lot and just happened to play with time; Tenet is only about playing with time.

PRETTY GOOD MOVIES

52. Shithouse (Cooper Raiff)- "Death is ass."

There's such a thing as too naturalistic. If I wanted to hear how college freshmen really talked, I would hang out with college freshmen. But you have to take the good verisimilitude with the bad, and good verisimilitude is the mother's Pod Save America t-shirt.

There are some poignant moments (and a gonzo performance from Logan Miller) in this auspicious debut from Cooper Raiff, the writer/director/editor/star. But the second party sequence kills some of the momentum, and at a crucial point, the characters spell out some motivation that should have stayed implied.

51. Totally Under Control (Alex Gibney, Ophelia Harutyunyan, Suzanne Hillinger)- As dense and informative as any other Gibney documentary with the added flex of making it during the pandemic it is investigating.

But yeah, why am I watching this right now? I don't need more reasons to be angry with Trump, whom this film calmly eviscerates. The directors analyze Trump's narcissism first through his contradictions of medical expertise in order to protect the economy that could win him re-election. Then it takes aim at his hiring based on loyalty instead of experience. But you already knew that, which is the problem with the film, at least for now.

50. Happiest Season (Clea Duvall)- I was in the perfect mood to watch something this frothy and bouncy. Every secondary character receives a moment in the sun, and Daniel Levy gets a speech that kind of saves the film at a tipping point.

I must say though: I wanted to punch Harper in her stupid face. She is a terrible romantic partner, abandoning or betraying Abby throughout the film and dissembling her entire identity to everyone else in a way that seems absurd for a grown woman in 2020. Run away, Kristen. Perhaps with Aubrey Plaza, whom you have more chemistry with. But there I go shipping and aligning myself with characters, which only proves that this is an effective romantic comedy.

49. The Way Back (Gavin O’Connor)- Patient but misshapen, The Way Back does just enough to overcome the cliches that are sort of unavoidable considering the genre. (I can't get enough of the parent character who, for no good reason, doesn't take his son's success seriously. "Scholarship? What he's gotta do is put his nose in them books! That's why I don't go to his games. [continues moving boxes while not looking at the other character] Now if you'll excuse me while I wait four scenes before showing up at a game to prove that I'm proud of him after all...")

What the movie gets really right or really wrong in the details about coaching and addiction is a total crap-shoot. But maybe I've said too much already.

48. The Whistlers (Corneliu Porumboiu)- Porumboiu is a real artist who seems to be interpreting how much surveillance we're willing to acknowledge and accept, but I won't pretend to have understood much of the plot, the chapters or which are told out of order. Sometimes the structure works--the beguiling, contextless "high-class hooker" sequence--but I often wondered if the film was impenetrable in the way that Porumboiu wanted it to be or impenetrable in the way he didn't.

To tell you the truth, the experience kind of depressed me because I know that, in my younger days, this film is the type of thing that I would re-watch, possibly with the chronology righted, knowing that it is worth understanding fully. But I have two small children, and I'm exhausted all the time, and I kind of thought I should get some credit for still trying to catch up with Romanian crime movies in the first place.

47. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (Jason Woliner)- I laughed too much to get overly critical, but the film is so episodic and contrived that it's kind of exhausting by the end--even though it's achieving most of its goals. Maybe Borat hasn't changed, but the way our citizens own their ugliness has.

46. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt)- Despite how little happens in the first forty minutes, First Cow is a thoughtful capitalism parable. Even though it takes about forty minutes to get going, the friendship between Cookie and King-Lu is natural and incisive. Like Reichardt's other work, the film's modest premise unfolds quite gracefully, except for in the first forty minutes, which are uneventful.

45. Les Miserables (Ladj Ly)- I loved parts of the film--the disorienting, claustrophobic opening or the quick look at the police officers' home lives, for example. But I'm not sure that it does anything very well. The needle the film tries to thread between realism and theater didn't gel for me. The ending, which is ambiguous in all of the wrong ways, chooses the theatrical. (If I'm being honest, my expectations were built up by Les Miserables' Jury Prize at Cannes, and it's a bit superficial to be in that company.)

If nothing else, it's always helpful to see how another country's worst case scenario in law enforcement would look pretty good over here.

44. Bad Education (Cory Finley)- The film feels too locked-down and small at the beginning, so intent on developing the protagonist neutrally that even the audience isn't aware of his secrets. So when he faces consequences for those secrets, there's a disconnect. Part of tragedy is seeing the doom coming, right?

When it opens up, however, it's empathetic and subtle, full of a dry irony that Finley is already specializing in after only one other feature. Geraldine Viswanathan and Allison Janney get across a lot of interiority that is not on the page.

43. The Trip to Greece (Michael Winterbottom)- By the fourth installment, you know whether you're on board with the franchise. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" to Coogan and Brydon's bickering and impressions as they're served exotic food in picturesque settings, then this one won't sway you. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" about life, like they are, then I don't need to convince you.  

I will say that The Trip to Spain seemed like an enervated inflection point, at which the squad could have packed it in. The Trip to Greece proves that they probably need to keep doing this until one of them dies, which has been the subtext all along.

42. Feels Good Man (Arthur Jones)- This documentary centers on innocent artist Matt Furie's helplessness as his Pepe the Frog character gets hijacked by the alt-right. It gets the hard things right. It's able to, quite comprehensively, trace a connection from 4Chan's use of Pepe the Frog to Donald Trump's near-assuming of Pepe's ironic deniability. Director Arthur Jones seems to understand the machinations of the alt-right, and he articulates them chillingly.

The easy thing, making us connect to Furie, is less successful. The film spends way too much time setting up his story, and it makes him look naive as it pits him against Alex Jones in the final third. Still, the film is a quick ninety-two minutes, and the highs are pretty high.

41. The Old Guard (Gina Prince-Bythewood)- Some of the world-building and backstory are handled quite elegantly. The relationships actually do feel centuries old through specific details, and the immortal conceit comes together for an innovative final action sequence.

Visually and musically though, the film feels flat in a way that Prince-Bythewood's other films do not. I blame Netflix specs. KiKi Layne, who tanked If Beale Street Could Talk for me, nearly ruins this too with the child-actory way that she stresses one word per line. Especially in relief with one of our more effortless actresses, Layne is distracting.

40. The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Aaron Sorkin)- Whenever Sacha Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman opens his mouth, the other defendants brace themselves for his dismissive vulgarity. Even when it's going to hurt him, he can't help but shoot off at the mouth. Of course, he reveals his passionate and intelligent depths as the trial goes on. The character is the one that Sorkin's screenplay seems the most endeared to: In the same way that Hoffman can't help but be Hoffman, Sorkin can't help but be Sorkin. Maybe we don't need a speech there; maybe we don't have to stretch past two hours; maybe a bon mot diffuses the tension. But we know exactly what to expect by now. The film is relevant, astute, witty, benevolent, and, of course, in love with itself. There are a handful of scenes here that are perfect, so I feel bad for qualifying so much.

A smaller point: Daniel Pemberton has done great work in the past (Motherless Brooklyn, King Arthur, The Man from U.N.C.L.E.), but the first sequence is especially marred by his sterile soft-rock approach.

  GOOD MOVIES

39. Time (Garrett Bradley)- The key to Time is that it provides very little context. Why the patriarch of this family is serving sixty years in prison is sort of besides the point philosophically. His wife and sons have to move on without him, and the tragedy baked into that fact eclipses any notion of what he "deserved." Feeling the weight of time as we switch back and forth between a kid talking about his first day of kindergarten and that same kid graduating from dentistry school is all the context we need. Time's presentation can be quite sumptuous: The drone shot of Angola makes its buildings look like crosses. Or is it X's?

At the same time, I need some context. When director Garrett Bradley withholds the reason Robert's in prison, and when she really withholds that Fox took a plea and served twelve years, you start to see the strings a bit. You could argue that knowing so little about why, all of a sudden, Robert can be on parole puts you into the same confused shoes as the family, but it feels manipulative to me. The film is preaching to the choir as far as criminal justice goes, which is fine, but I want it to have the confidence to tell its story above board.

38. Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (Turner Ross and Bill Ross IV)- I have a barfly friend whom I see maybe once a year. When we first set up a time to meet, I kind of dread it and wonder what we'll have to talk about. Once we do get together, we trip on each other's words a bit, fumbling around with the rhythm of conversation that we mastered decades ago. He makes some kind of joke that could have been appropriate then but isn't now.

By the end of the day, hours later, we're hugging and maybe crying as we promise each other that we won't wait as long next time.

That's the exact same journey that I went on with this film.

37. Underwater (William Eubank)- Underwater is a story that you've seen before, but it's told with great confidence and economy. I looked up at twelve minutes and couldn't believe the whole table had been set. Kristen plays Ripley and projects a smart, benevolent poise.

36. The Lodge (Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala)- I prefer the grounded, manicured first half to the more fantastic second half. The craziness of the latter is only possible through the hard work of the former though. As with Fiala and Franz's previous feature, the visual rhymes and motifs get incorporated into the soup so carefully that you don't realize it until they overwhelm you in their bleak glory.

Small note: Alicia Silverstone, the male lead's first wife, and Riley Keough, his new partner, look sort of similar. I always think that's a nice note: "I could see how he would go for her."

35. Miss Americana (Lana Wilson)- I liked it when I saw it as a portrait of a person whose life is largely decided for her but is trying to carve out personal spaces within that hamster wheel. I loved it when I realized that describes most successful people in their twenties.

34. Sound of Metal (Darius Marder)- Riz Ahmed is showing up on all of the best performances of the year lists, but Sound of Metal isn't in anyone's top ten films of the year. That's about right. Ahmed's is a quiet, stubborn performance that I wish was in service of more than the straight line that we've seen before.

In two big scenes, there's this trick that Ahmed does, a piecing together of consequences with his eyes, as if he's moving through a flow chart in real time. In both cases, the character seems locked out and a little slower than he should be, which is, of course, why he's facing the consequences in the first place. To be charitable to a film that was a bit of a grind, it did make me notice a thing a guy did with his eyes.

33. Pieces of a Woman (Kornel Mundruczo)- Usually when I leave acting showcases like this, I imagine the film without the Oscar-baiting speeches, but this is a movie that specializes in speeches. Pieces of a Woman is being judged, deservedly so, by the harrowing twenty-minute take that opens the film, which is as indulgent as it is necessary. But if the unbroken take provides the "what," then the speeches provide the "why."

This is a film about reclaiming one's body when it rebels against you and when other people seek ownership of it. Without the Ellen Burstyn "lift your head" speech or the Vanessa Kirby show-stopper in the courtroom, I'm not sure any of that comes across.

I do think the film lets us off the hook a bit with the LaBoeuf character, in the sense that it gives us reasons to dislike him when it would be more compelling if he had done nothing wrong. Does his half-remembering of the White Stripes count as a speech?

32. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe)- This is such a play, not only in the locked-down location but also through nearly every storytelling convention: "Where are the two most interesting characters? Oh, running late? They'll enter separately in animated fashion?" But, to use the type of phrase that the characters might, "Don't hate the player; hate the game."

Perhaps the most theatrical note in this treatise on the commodification of expression is the way that, two or three times, the proceedings stop in their tracks for the piece to declare loudly what it's about. In one of those clear-outs, Boseman, who looks distractingly sick, delivers an unforgettable monologue that transports the audience into his character's fragile, haunted mind. He and Viola Davis are so good that the film sort of buckles under their weight, unsure of how to transition out of those spotlight moments and pretend that the story can start back up. Whatever they're doing is more interesting than what's being achieved overall.

31. Another Round (Thomas Vinterberg)- It's definitely the film that Vinterberg wanted to make, but despite what I think is a quietly shattering performance from Mikkelsen, Another Round moves in a bit too much of a straight line to grab me fully. The joyous final minutes hint at where it could have gone, as do pockets of Vinterberg's filmography, which seems newly tethered to realism in a way that I don't like. The best sequences are the wildest ones, like the uproarious trip to the grocery store for fresh cod, so I don't know why so much of it takes place in tiny hallways at magic hour. I give the inevitable American remake* permission to use these notes.

*- Just spitballing here. Martin: Will Ferrell, Nikolaj (Nick): Ben Stiller, Tommy: Owen Wilson, Peter: Craig Robinson

30. The Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell)- Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I needed.

I think a less conclusive finale would have been better, but what a model of high-concept escalation. This is the movie people convinced me Whannell's Upgrade was.

29. On the Rocks (Sofia Coppola)- Slight until the Mexican sojourn, which expands the scope and makes the film even more psychosexual than before. At times it feels as if Coppola is actively simplifying, rather than diving into the race and privilege questions that the Murray character all but demands.

As for Murray, is the film 50% worse without him? 70%? I don't know if you can run in supporting categories if you're the whole reason the film exists.

28. Mangrove (Steve McQueen)- The first part of the film seemed repetitive and broad to me. But once it settled in as a courtroom drama, the characterization became more shaded, and the filmmaking itself seemed more fluid. I ended up being quite outraged and inspired.

27. Shirley (Josephine Decker)- Josephine Decker emerges as a real stylist here, changing her foggy, impressionistic approach not one bit with a little more budget. Period piece and established actors be damned--this is still as much of a reeling fever dream as Madeline's Madeline. Both pieces are a bit too repetitive and nasty for my taste, but I respect the technique.

Here's my mandatory "Elisabeth Moss is the best" paragraph. While watching her performance as Shirley Jackson, I thought about her most famous role as Peggy on Mad Men, whose inertia and need to prove herself tied her into confidence knots. Shirley is almost the opposite: paralyzed by her worldview, certain of her talent, rejecting any empathy. If Moss can inhabit both characters so convincingly, she can do anything.

26. An American Pickle (Brandon Trost)- An American Pickle is the rare comedy that could actually use five or ten extra minutes, but it's a surprisingly heartfelt and wholesome stretch for Rogen, who is earnest in the lead roles.

25. The King of Staten Island (Judd Apatow)- At two hours and fifteen minutes, The King of Staten Island is probably the first Judd Apatow film that feels like the exact right length. For example, the baggy date scene between a gracious Bill Burr and a faux-dowdy Marisa Tomei is essential, the sort of widening of perspective that something like Trainwreck was missing.

It's Pete Davidson's movie, however, and though he has never been my cup of tea, I think he's actually quite powerful in his quiet moments. The movie probes some rare territory--a mentally ill man's suspicion that he is unlovable, a family's strategic myth-making out of respect for the dead. And when Davidson shows up at the firehouse an hour and fifteen minutes in, it feels as if we've built to a last resort.

24. Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis)- The tricky part of this film is communicating Hunter's despair, letting her isolation mount, but still keeping her opaque. It takes a lot of visual discipline to do that, and Claudio Mirabella-Davis is up to the task. This ends up being a much more sympathetic, expressive movie than the plot description might suggest.

(In the tie dispute, Hunter and Richie are both wrong. That type of silk--I couldn't tell how pebbled it was, but it's probably a barathea weave-- shouldn't be ironed directly, but it doesn't have to be steamed. On a low setting, you could iron the back of the tie and be fine.)

23. The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson)- I wanted a bit more "there" there; The film goes exactly where I thought it would, and there isn't enough humor for my taste. (The predictability might be a feature, not a bug, since the film is positioned as an episode of a well-worn Twilight Zone-esque show.)

But from a directorial standpoint, this is quite a promising debut. Patterson knows when to lock down or use silence--he even cuts to black to force us to listen more closely to a monologue. But he also knows when to fill the silence. There's a minute or so when Everett is spooling tape, and he and Fay make small talk about their hopes for the future, developing the characters' personalities in what could have been just mechanics. It's also a refreshingly earnest film. No one is winking at the '50s setting.

I'm tempted to write, "If Andrew Patterson can make this with $1 million, just imagine what he can do with $30 million." But maybe people like Shane Carruth have taught us that Patterson is better off pinching pennies in Texas and following his own muse.

22. Martin Eden (Pietro Marcello)- At first this film, adapted from a picaresque novel by Jack London, seemed as if it was hitting the marks of the genre. "He's going from job to job and meeting dudes who are shaping his worldview now." But the film, shot in lustrous Super 16, won me over as it owned the trappings of this type of story, forming a character who is a product of his environment even as he transcends it. By the end, I really felt the weight of time.

You want to talk about something that works better in novels than films though? When a passionate, independent protagonist insists that a woman is the love of his life, despite the fact that she's whatever Italians call a wet blanket. She's rich, but Martin doesn't care about her money. He hates her family and friends, and she refuses to accept him or his life pursuits. She's pretty but not even as pretty as the waitress they discuss. Tell me what I'm missing here. There's archetype, and there's incoherence.

21. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonca Filho and Juliano Dornelles)- Certain images from this adventurous film will stick with me, but I got worn out after the hard reset halfway through. As entranced as I was by the mystery of the first half, I think this blood-soaked ensemble is better at asking questions than it is at answering them.

20. Let Them All Talk (Steven Soderbergh)- The initial appeal of this movie might be "Look at these wonderful actresses in their seventies getting a movie all to themselves." And the film is an interesting portrait of ladies taking stock of relationships that have spanned decades. But Soderbergh and Eisenberg handle the twentysomething Lucas Hedges character with the same openness and empathy. His early reasoning for going on the trip is that he wants to learn from older women, and Hedges nails the puppy-dog quality of a young man who would believe that. Especially in the scenes of aspirational romance, he's sweet and earnest as he brushes his hair out of his face.

Streep plays Alice Hughes, a serious author of literary fiction, and she crosses paths with Kelvin Kranz, a grinder of airport thrillers. In all of the right ways, Let Them All Talk toes the line between those two stances as an entertaining, jaunty experiment that also shoulders subtextual weight. If nothing else, it's easy to see why a cruise ship's counterfeit opulence, its straight lines at a lean, would be visually engaging to Soderbergh. You can't have a return to form if your form is constantly evolving.

19. Dick Johnson Is Dead (Kirsten Johnson)- Understandably, I don't find the subject as interesting as his own daughter does, and large swaths of this film are unsure of what they're trying to say. But that's sort of the point, and the active wrestling that the film engages in with death ultimately pays off in a transcendent moment. The jaw-dropping ending is something that only non-fiction film can achieve, and Johnson's whole career is about the search for that sort of serendipity.

18. Da 5 Bloods (Spike Lee)- Delroy Lindo is a live-wire, but his character is the only one of the principals who is examined with the psychological depth I was hoping for. The first half, with all of its present-tense flourishes, promises more than the gunfights of the second half can deliver. When the film is cooking though, it's chock full of surprises, provocations, and pride.

17. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittmann)- Very quickly, Eliza Hittmann has established herself as an astute, empathetic director with an eye for discovering new talent. I hope that she gets to make fifty more movies in which she objectively follows laconic young people. But I wanted to like this one more than I did. The approach is so neutral that it's almost flat to me, lacking the arc and catharsis of her previous film, Beach Rats. I still appreciate her restraint though.

GREAT MOVIES

16. Young Ahmed (Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne)- I don't think the Dardennes have made a bad movie yet, and I'm glad they turned away from the slight genre dipping of The Unknown Girl, the closest to bad that they got. Young Ahmed is a lean, daring return to form.

Instead of following an average person, as they normally do, the Dardenne Brothers follow an extremist, and the objectivity that usually generates pathos now serves to present ambiguity. Ahmed says that he is changing, that he regrets his actions, but we never know how much of his stance is a put-on. I found myself wanting him to reform, more involved than I usually am in these slices of life. Part of it is that Idir Ben Addi looks like such a normal, young kid, and the Ahmed character has most of the qualities that we say we want in young people: principles, commitment, self-worth, reflection. So it's that much more destructive when those qualities are used against him and against his fellow man.

15. World of Tomorrow Episode Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime (Don Hertzfeldt)- My dad, a man whom I love but will never understand, has dismissed modern music before by claiming that there are only so many combinations of chords. To him, it's almost impossible to do something new. Of course, this is the type of thing that an uncreative person would say--a person not only incapable of hearing the chords that combine notes but also unwilling to hear the space between the notes. (And obviously, that's the take of a person who doesn't understand that, originality be damned, some people just have to create.)

  Anyway, that attitude creeps into my own thinking more than I would like, but then I watch something as wholly original as World of Tomorrow Episode Three. The series has always been a way to pile sci-fi ideas on top of each other to prove the essential truths of being and loving. And this one, even though it achieves less of a sense of yearning than its predecessor, offers even more devices to chew on. Take, for example, the idea that Emily sends her message from the future, so David's primitive technology can barely handle it. In order to move forward with its sophistication, he has to delete any extraneous skills for the sake of computer memory. So out of trust for this person who loves him, he has to weigh whether his own breathing or walking can be uninstalled as a sacrifice for her. I thought that we might have been done describing love, but there it is, a new metaphor. Mixing futurism with stick figures to get at the most pure drive possible gave us something new. It's called art, Dad.

14. On the Record (Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering)- We don't call subjects of documentaries "stars" for obvious reasons, but Drew Dixon kind of is one. Her honesty and wisdom tell a complete story of the #MeToo movement. Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering take their time developing her background at first, not because we need to "gain sympathy" or "establish credibility" for a victim of sexual abuse, but because showing her talent and enthusiasm for hip-hop A&R makes it that much more tragic when her passion is extinguished. Hell, I just like the woman, so spending a half-hour on her rise was pleasurable in and of itself.

  This is a gut-wrenching, fearless entry in what is becoming Dick and Ziering's raison d'etre, but its greatest quality is Dixon's composed reflection. She helped to establish a pattern of Russell Simmons's behavior, but she explains what happened to her in ways I had never heard before.

13. David Byrne’s American Utopia (Spike Lee)- I'm often impressed by the achievements that puzzle me: How did they pull that off? But I know exactly how David Byrne pulled off the impish but direct precision of American Utopia: a lot of hard work.

I can't blame Spike Lee for stealing a page from Demme's Stop Making Sense: He denies us a close-up of any audience members until two-thirds of the way through, when we get someone in absolute rapture.

12. One Night in Miami... (Regina King)- We've all cringed when a person of color is put into the position of speaking on behalf of his or her entire race. But the characters in One Night in Miami... live in that condition all the time and are constantly negotiating it. As Black public figures in 1964, they know that the consequences of their actions are different, bigger, than everyone else's. The charged conversations between Malcolm X and Sam Cooke are not about whether they can live normal lives. They're way past that. The stakes are closer to Sam Cooke arguing that his life's purpose aligns with the protection and elevation of African-Americans while Malcolm X argues that those pursuits should be the same thing. Late in the movie, Cassius Clay leaves the other men, a private conversation, to talk to reporters, a public conversation. But the film argues that everything these men do is always already public. They're the most powerful African-Americans in the country, but their lives are not their own. Or not only their own.

It's true that the first act has the clunkiness and artifice of a TV movie, but once the film settles into the motel room location and lets the characters feed off one another, it's gripping. It's kind of unfair for a movie to get this many scenes of Leslie Odom Jr. singing, but I'll take it.

11. Saint Frances (Alex Thompson)- Rilke wrote, "Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." The characters' behavior in Saint Frances--all of these fully formed characters' behavior--made me think of that quotation. When they lash out at one another, even at their nastiest, the viewer has a window into how they're expressing pain they can't verbalize. The film is uneven in its subtlety, but it's a real showcase for screenwriter and star Kelly O'Sullivan, who is unflinching and dynamic in one of the best performances of the year. Somebody give her some of the attention we gave to Zach Braff for God's sake.

10. Boys State (Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine)- This documentary is kind of a miracle from a logistical standpoint. From casting interviews beforehand, lots of editing afterwards, or sly note-taking once the conference began, McBaine and Moss happened to select the four principals who mattered the most at the convention, then found them in rooms full of dudes wearing the same tucked-in t-shirt. By the way, all of the action took place over the course of one week, and by definition, the important events are carved in half.

To call Boys State a microcosm of American politics is incorrect. These guys are forming platforms and voting in elections. What they're doing is American politics, so when they make the same compromises and mistakes that active politicians do, it produces dread and disappointment. So many of the boys are mimicking the political theater that they see on TV, and that sweaty sort of performance is going to make a Billy Mitchell out of this kid Ben Feinstein, and we'll be forced to reckon with how much we allow him to evolve as a person. This film is so precise, but what it proves is undeniably messy. Luckily, some of these seventeen-year-olds usher in hope for us all.

If nothing else, the film reveals the level to which we're all speaking in code.

9. The Nest (Sean Durkin)- In the first ten minutes or so of The Nest, the only real happy minutes, father and son are playing soccer in their quaint backyard, and the father cheats to score on a children's net before sliding on the grass to rub in his victory. An hour later, the son kicks the ball around by himself near a regulation goal on the family's massive property. The contrast is stark and obvious, as is the symbolism of the dead horse, but that doesn't mean it's not visually powerful or resonant.

Like Sean Durkin's earlier film, Martha Marcy May Marlene, the whole of The Nest is told with detail of novelistic scope and an elevation of the moment. A snippet of radio that mentions Ronald Reagan sets the time period, rather than a dateline. One kid saying "Thanks, Dad" and another kid saying, "Thanks, Rory" establishes a stepchild more elegantly than any other exposition might.

But this is also a movie that does not hide what it means. Characters usually say exactly what is on their minds, and motivations are always clear. For example, Allison smokes like a chimney, so her daughter's way of acting out is leaving butts on the window sill for her mother to find. (And mother and daughter both definitely "act out" their feelings.) On the other hand, Ben, Rory's biological son, is the character least like him, so these relationships aren't too directly parallel. Regardless, Durkin uses these trajectories to cast a pall of familial doom.

8. Sorry We Missed You (Sean Durkin)- Another precisely calibrated empathy machine from Ken Loach. The overwhelmed matriarch, Abby, is a caretaker, and she has to break up a Saturday dinner to rescue one of her clients, who wet herself because no one came to help her to the bathroom. The lady is embarrassed, and Abby calms her down by saying, "You mean more to me than you know." We know enough about Abby's circumstances to realize that it's sort of a lie, but it's a beautiful lie, told by a person who cares deeply but is not cared for.

Loach's central point is that the health of a family, something we think of as immutable and timeless, is directly dependent upon the modern industry that we use to destroy ourselves. He doesn't have to be "proven" relevant, and he didn't plan for Covid-19 to point to the fragility of the gig economy, but when you're right, you're right.

7. Lovers Rock (Steve McQueen)- swear to you I thought: "This is an impeccable depiction of a great house party. The only thing it's missing is the volatile dude who scares away all the girls." And then the volatile dude who scares away all the girls shows up.

In a year short on magic, there are two or three transcendent moments, but none of them can equal the whole crowd singing along to "Silly Games" way after the song has ended. Nothing else crystallizes the film's note of celebration: of music, of community, of safe spaces, of Black skin. I remember moments like that at house parties, and like all celebrations, they eventually make me sad.

6. Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution (Nicole Newnham and James Lebrecht)- I held off on this movie because I thought that I knew what it was. The setup was what I expected: A summer camp for the disabled in the late '60s takes on the spirit of the time and becomes a haven for people who have not felt agency, self-worth, or community anywhere else. But that's the right-place-right-time start of a story that takes these figures into the '80s as they fight for their rights.

If you're anything like my dumb ass, you know about 504 accommodations from the line on a college syllabus that promises equal treatment. If 2020 has taught us anything though, it's that rights are seized, not given, and this is the inspiring story of people who unified to demand what they deserved. Judy Heumann is a civil rights giant, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't know who she was before this film. If it were just a history lesson that wasn't taught in school, Crip Camp would still be valuable, but it's way more than that.

5. Palm Springs (Max Barbakow)- When explaining what is happening to them, Andy Samberg's Nyles twirls his hand at Cristin Milioti's Sara and says, "It's one of those infinite time-loop scenarios." Yeah, one of those. Armed with only a handful of fictional examples, she and the audience know exactly what he means, and the continually inventive screenplay by Andy Siara doesn't have to do any more explaining. In record time, the film accelerates into its premise, involves her, and sets up the conflict while avoiding the claustrophobia of even Groundhog Day. That economy is the strength that allows it to be as funny as it is. By being thrifty with the setup, the savings can go to, say, the couple crashing a plane into a fiery heap with no consequences.

In some accidental ways, this is, of course, a quarantine romance as well. Nyles and Sara frustratingly navigate the tedious wedding as if they are play-acting--which they sort of are--then they push through that sameness to grow for each other, realizing that dependency is not weakness. The best relationships are doing the same thing right now.

  Although pointedly superficial--part of the point of why the couple is such a match--and secular--I think the notion of an afterlife would come up at least once--Palm Springs earns the sincerity that it gets around to. And for a movie ironic enough to have a character beg to be impaled so that he doesn't have to sit in traffic, that's no small feat.

  4. The Assistant (Kitty Green)- A wonder of Bressonian objectivity and rich observation, The Assistant is the rare film that deals exclusively with emotional depth while not once explaining any emotions. One at a time, the scrape of the Kleenex box might not be so grating, the long hallway trek to the delivery guy might not be so tiring, but this movie gets at the details of how a job can destroy you in ways that add up until you can't even explain them.

3. Promising Young Woman (Emerald Fennell)- In her most incendiary and modern role, Carey Mulligan plays Cassie, which is short for Cassandra, that figure doomed to tell truths that no one else believes. The web-belted boogeyman who ruined her life is Al, short for Alexander, another Greek who is known for his conquests. The revenge story being told here--funny in its darkest moments, dark in its funniest moments--is tight on its surface levels, but it feels as if it's telling a story more archetypal and expansive than that too.

  An exciting feature debut for its writer-director Emerald Fennell, the film goes wherever it dares. Its hero has a clear purpose, and it's not surprising that the script is willing to extinguish her anger halfway through. What is surprising is the way it renews and muddies her purpose as she comes into contact with half-a-dozen brilliant one- or two-scene performances. (Do you think Alfred Molina can pull off a lawyer who hates himself so much that he can't sleep? You would be right.)

Promising Young Woman delivers as an interrogation of double standards and rape culture, but in quiet ways it's also about our outsized trust in professionals and the notion that some trauma cannot be overcome.

INSTANT CLASSICS

2. Soul (Pete Docter)- When Pete Docter's Up came out, it represented a sort of coronation for Pixar: This was the one that adults could like unabashedly. The one with wordless sequences and dead children and Ed Asner in the lead. But watching it again this week with my daughter, I was surprised by how high-concept and cloying it could be. We choose not to remember the middle part with the goofy dog stuff.

Soul is what Up was supposed to be: honest, mature, stirring. And I don't mean to imply that a family film shouldn't make any concessions to children. But Soul, down to the title, never compromises its own ambition. Besides Coco, it's probably the most credible character study that Pixar has ever made, with all of Joe's growth earned the hard way. Besides Inside Out, it's probably the wittiest comedy that Pixar has ever made, bursting with unforced energy.

There's a twitter fascination going around about Dez, the pigeon-figured barber character whose scene has people gushing, "Crush my windpipe, king" or whatever. Maybe that's what twitter does now, but no one fantasized about any characters in Up. And I count that as progress.

1. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman)- After hearing that our name-shifting protagonist moonlights as an artist, a no-nonsense David Thewlis offers, "I hope you're not an abstract artist." He prefers "paintings that look like photographs" over non-representational mumbo-jumbo. And as Jessie Buckley squirms to try to think of a polite way to talk back, you can tell that Charlie Kaufman has been in the crosshairs of this same conversation. This morose, scary, inscrutable, expressionist rumination is not what the Netflix description says it is at all, and it's going to bother nice people looking for a fun night in. Thank God.

The story goes that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, when constructing Raiders of the Lost Ark, sought to craft a movie that was "only the good parts" with little of the clunky setup that distracted from action. What we have here is a Charlie Kaufman movie with only the Charlie Kaufman moments, less interested than ever before at holding one's hand. The biting humor is here, sometimes aimed at philistines like the David Thewlis character above, sometimes at the niceties that we insist upon. The lonely horror of everyday life is here, in the form of missed calls from oneself or the interruption of an inner monologue. Of course, communicating the overwhelming crush of time, both unknowable and familiar, is the raison d'etre.

A new pet motif seems to be the way that we don't even own our own knowledge. The Young Woman recites "Bonedog" by Eva H.D., which she claims/thinks she wrote, only to find Jake's book open to that page, next to a Pauline Kael book that contains a Woman Under the Influence review that she seems to have internalized later. When Jake muses about Wordsworth's "Lucy Poems," it starts as a way to pass the time, then it becomes a way to lord his education over her, then it becomes a compliment because the subject resembles her, then it becomes a way to let her know that, in the grand scheme of things, she isn't that special at all. This film jerks the viewer through a similar wintry cycle and leaves him with his own thoughts. It's not a pretty picture, but it doesn't look like anything else.

[r0h1rr1m]

rambly inception thoughts bc i watched this movie for like the fifth time this week and i can’t let it go

i just saw a lil post about an umbrella academy/inception crossover and that au is not really relevant to this but it made me think. i got to wondering whether someone w superpowers would be able to use them in a dream, or if that would violate the suspension of disbelief/make-no-waves rules and call the projections down on u. the specific rules of this mechanism--and of forging, and limbo, and lots of other stuff--have a definitively movie-logic ambiguousness to them, but let’s say that using powers in a dream, even if you have them in real life, stretches belief a little too much and angers the projections. it would also explain why (from a watsonian perspective, at least) dreamsharers don’t just give themselves fantastic abilites to make things easier. (i kinda wanna go off on another tangent about what that implies about who you have fool, be it dreamer or mark or both, and the effect of varying levels of imagination, but few enough people are gonna read this whole thing as is :’))

but then (in this extremely niche and overly specific hypothetical situation, yes, i’m sorry) if powered ppl using real powers in a dream would be too unbelievable, it follows that dreamsharers would have to be at least slightly more boring versions of themselves in a dream, probably less skilled and just less weird. real life is consistently stranger and more unexpected than imagination

this is where this veers off into unrelated territory a lil bit bc then i started imagining the conversation that would happen if Ariadne started figuring this out or if Eames told her. without any effort at good or in-character dialogue, it might go something like this:

A <<so then the stablest/most forgiving dreams would be of the people with the most imagination? like children?>>

E <<probably, but who would go in the mind of a child?>>

A <<u literally make a career made a career out of violating people in a way so profound u’d have to be clinically paranoid to even worry about protecting against it, but u draw the line there? at children? why is it okay to do it to adults?>>

and so on until i started having some characterization hcs. bc i see Eames as the coldest/most ruthlessly pragmatic character in the movie (i’ve had conversations where ppl argue it’s Cobb, but he’s not ruthless. he is, in fact, sabotaging his own career w an overabundance of ruth. he’s just desperate and making some kind of myopic justifications. like that scene early on in the first level? i get the distinct sense that when he’s blowing up at Arthur he’s overcompensating to separate himself from the blame of a situation for which he’s at least 50% but arguably more responsible for. sorry tangent over) and i don’t think he’d worry abt this too much.

he knows that he lives his life in a bit of a moral gray area and unless he wants to make sm srs changes to his lifestyle there’s not a lot of point stressing. he’s not like totally relativistic, bc relativism isn’t that useful and he’s pretty utilitarian (i think these words also have, like, official philosophical definitions but idk anything abt that n i’m not using em that way), but he’s aware that a moral code is a tricky thing, even for ppl who are not international career criminals. rules like “no kids as marks” are easy to follow, and make simple, instinctive sense. i think he’d make a lot of moral decisions js on gut feeling.

in the hypothetical convo above where he tells Ariadne as much, mbe he adds:

<<if u want to talk abt it w someone who’s actually thought abt this, i’m sure Arthur has, but i don’t think it’ll make u feel better>>

bc Arthur is mbe a bit too good at compartmentalizing and justifications (not like Cobb, tho. Arthur is loyal to a fault and dedicated to looking after other ppl in a way he seems generally disinterested in doing for himself), seeing as he’s apparently the kind of person who can cheerfully ID someone’s murderer to their face and then just casually switch topics after like 5 words of explanation.

he’s characterized as v focused on planning/details and thoroughness/coherency, so it tracks that he’d want to articulate/organize his thoughts on Why I Do What I Do, but the subjectivity of his justifications would be especially apparent to Ariadne after this convo w Eames. and like, “convince ur friend to go to therapy” and “follow ur friend around the globe enabling his increasingly aimless and self-destructive mission to break into ppl’s heads for money” are on opposite ends of a spectrum i don’t want to know anything about. js bc this dude gets prissy abt Eames js Feeling Things Out and is convinced he’s Mr. Logic doesn’t mean his logic isn’t absolutely fckn buck-wild.

so Ariadne’s reaction to all this is what? it’s highly unlikely anything could make her give up dreamshare, so. are there legit alternatives to the criminal side of things? in the movie it’s not rly clear. when Dom goes to Miles and says that becoming a fugitive took away his legitimate options for his skills, it seems like that would imply there are, in fact, legitimate options. but then why was Miles only training/able to suggest a normal ass architect and not a dreamshare Architect?

anyway, the point is if legit dreamshare work exists, Ari could hand the work of deciding on ethics and regulations off to a boss or legislation. whether or not she’d choose to do that i think is a matter of personal hc and the movie could support it either way. if on the other hand, tho, only illegal uses for dreamshare exist, she has to find her own moral guidelines in criminal work (i like the hc that Arthur helps her be more selective than a newbie would typically be allowed to be. helps her vet jobs and keep from getting in over her head/beholden to someone. it just seems like something he would do. and mbe his reputation needs a little repair after however long he ran w an increasingly unstable and unreliable Dom Cobb, but if ppl like Eames are still calling him the best pointman he must have enough clout to help Ari get some good jobs). for myself, i think even if there are legit jobs Ari would choose to stay on the illegal side of things anyway, at least at first. she’s addicted to the limitation-free aspect of it, and, in the proud tradition of geniuses and prodigies everywhere, she’s demonstrably bad at taking censure/advice. she has to make her own mistakes. not to mention, her own morals might be a lil wobbly anyway, from how easily and entitledly she invaded Dom’s privacy. like, it turned out to be for the best, but it was still kinda fcked up

anyway surprise i wasn’t working towards any sort of point but i can’t stop thinking abt this movie and my family’s sick of hearing about it. thanks for reading. vote

[captainbfresh]

Prompt: I just have this crazy head canon of the team getting an emergency call to the zoo and some emus get loose and zero in on Eddie. Eddie goes running and those giant scary looking birds chase after him, and Buck and the rest of the team try to follow after to try and help him, all the while laughing their butts off.

Here you go! I’m so sorry it ended up being not at all what you asked for but thank you so much for sending it in it was really fun to write and it really cheered me up :) Read below the cut or here on ao3

A huge thank you to @justlooking-forlove  for Eddie’s Spanish!

As a first responder, Buck had come to learn that there were certain calls that you never wanted to get. Calls that left dread bubbling in your gut and sweat sticking to your palms even before you set foot on the scene. 

The first, the call that every first responder dreaded the most, a call from your own address, or an address you know someone you love is at.

The second, a call from a school. 

The third, a city-wide call. A call that meant you would either be met with a natural disaster or a man-made horror. 

“I’m just saying Zoo calls should be on the list.” Hen said the sirens blared above them, almost drowning out Bucks bark of laughter.

“Zoo calls don’t belong on the list.” Buck said. “You really feel the same amount of dread for this call as you would if we got a call from your house?”

“Of course not the same amount.” Hen argued. “But you can’t say you want to go on a Zoo call.

“Of course I can. Zoos are awesome.” Buck said. 

“To visit, not to save someone at.” She continued. “I mean, it’s always just some dumbass who’s jumped into an enclosure and then acts shocked when they get attacked.”

“I don’t care what you say, I’m looking forward to it.” Buck shrugged. 

“I agree with Hen. Zoo calls suck.” chimney said.

“You’re just scared it’s going to be snakes.”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t like the idea of jumping into an enclosure with a wild animal.”

“The animals have probably been shot by now.” Hen grumbled.

“You’re looking at this the wrong way.-”

“Oh, and what’s the right way to look at the pointless slaughter of an animal?”

“…Free trip to the zoo?” Buck tried, Hen scoffed.

“We’re not there to sightsee, Buck.” Bobby said.

“Obviously we save the person first-” Buck said. “But afterward we can at least see a leopard or something right?”

“No.” Bobby said. Buck could hear his smile.

“Oh come on Cap. One enclosure? It can be a bonding experience for the team.”

“You keep it up you’re staying in the truck.” Bobby hummed. Buck threw his head back against the seat with a groan. “You want the Zoo you go in your own time.”

“This sucks.” Buck said. Eddie’s thigh nudged his, drawing his attention to the man next to him.

“We can take Christopher to the Zoo.” Eddie offered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled. “The second Christopher finds out I went to the Zoo on a call he’s going to insist I bring him here. Might as well wait till you have a day off and make you suffer through it as well.”

“We totally have to go when they’re doing feedings,” Buck said.

“You realize you just signed yourself up to watching two kids instead of one, right?” Chimney said.

“I hope a lion eats you.” Buck said cheerfully.

*

“It’s like Jurassic Park.” Buck murmured, looking at the grand gates of the entrance to the Zoo’s safari as they inched through, nose pressed against the window to get a better look. 

“Let’s hope the animals are smaller.” Chimney murmured. Buck let Eddie tug him back into his seat, excitement rolling through him. A Zoo call was one thing, a call out in a Zoo’s safari a whole other ball game. 

“Did someone get eaten?” Buck blurted, turning to the ZooKeeper they’d picked up before entering the safari.

“I think what Buck means is what are we working with?” Bobby said diplomatically. 

“No one’s been eaten.” The zookeeper assured. “A teenager had their phone stolen by one of the animals out of the safari and decided to get out of the car and try to get it back.” Hens head snapped to Buck, eyebrows wiggling in a clear told you so’ gesture. Buck poked his tongue out at her.  “She managed to follow her phone up a tree before she got stuck.”

“She’s stuck in a tree?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.”

“So…Wait, that means we’re really like properly getting out of the truck right? Walking the Safari?” Buck grinned. Eddie elbowed him softly.

“Yes, we will need to exit the vehicle and walk a fair way to get to her. 

“There’s not like, any lions out there, right?” Chimney asked, peering through the windows. Buck snorted a laugh, Eddie’s thigh bumped his, Buck turned to see him roll his eyes dramatically at Buck even as a grin split across his face.

“All our big cats are in the next portion of the safari.” The keeper said. “There’s three gates between here and there.”

“So what is in here?” Buck asked. 

“Mostly Barbary Macaques.” 

“Macawhats?”

“Macaques. They’re monkeys. I would suggest keeping your gear secure, they do enjoy stealing whatever they can get a hold of.”

“What do you mean mostly monkeys?” Chimney asked.

“This area was originally for only for our Emu’s but the macaques snuck through the fence a few years back. We decided to relocate the macaque here permanently when fixing the fences. Now we use their old enclosure for our wolf pack.”

“The Emus don’t mind sharing their home?”

“They’re both curious creatures by nature. They seem to enjoy the mixed company. There’s a good chance they’ll come to say hello so try to stay calm. They’re unlikely to become aggressive.”

“Unlikely?”  Chimney gaped.

“Can we pet them?”

“No, Buck” Hen sighed.

“I’m not helping you if you get bitten by a monkey.” Eddie murmured.

“Do they bite?” Chimney asked.

“Everyone out of the truck.” Bobby ordered. 

*

The zookeeper hadn’t been lying when he’d said they’d have to walk. Five minutes after they’d hopped out of the truck and they were still going. Picking through the sparse trees littered near the Safari’s path, footsteps cracking twigs as they followed the singular pair of human footprints wandering off the track. 

Buck’s next footstep froze as a weight suddenly settled on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, eyes bulging as he saw the monkey perched like a little angel. Its hand reached out, cupping around his head to keep steady as he let his foot hit the ground gently.

“Guys! Guys look!” Buck breathed. “There’s a monkey!”

“You don’t say.” Chimney said, distinctly unimpressed voice drawing Buck’s attention. He snorted out a laugh as he spotted the baby Macaque sitting on top of Chimney’s head. Hen let out a soft squeak as another dropped from the trees onto her shoulders, a smile lighting her face the moment she caught sight of it.

“Told you it shouldn’t be on the list.” Buck said smugly.

“Shut up, Buck.” Hen laughed. 

Buck turned back to the monkey on his shoulder, lifting a hand slowly towards it, it reached out with one hand, warm little fingers curling over his as it tugged his hand over, searching for anything in, on, or under his hand. When it was sure he had no treats it launched off, scurrying back towards the trees. 

“Come back, little guy.” Buck cooed. “Come on buddy, please.”

“Buck.” Eddie called. Buck turned, lighting up when he saw a monkey roughly the length of a watermelon perched on Eddie’s forearm like a falcon. 

“Ohh, dude. It’s so cute” He gushed, creeping closer. “-Hey beautiful.” He held out a hand, glee filled him as the monkey leaped from Eddie’s wrist to land on his own. It’s coarse brown fur brushing his cheek as it scurried up his arm to rest at his shoulder.

“I think it likes you.” Eddie said.

“You reckon I could steal it?” Buck joked as the monkey’s hand scratched at his forehead as it clamored over his head to the other shoulder. 

“Alright everyone, let’s remember we’re at work, not a petting zoo.” Bobby called. A large macaque dangling from the bag in his hand.

“Reckon we have time for a few photos?”

A shrill screech echoes from the treetops. The monkeys scattered. Scurrying back into the trees with a dexterity that made petty jealousy eek into Buck as he watched them swing around the branches and launch themselves high into the treetops.

“Thank God.” Chimney breathed, dusting off his head:

“I think they’re camera shy.” Eddie said, clapping buck on the shoulder. 

“Oh look, our flocks come to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Your what?” Chimney asked, spinning on his heel. Buck turned as well, spotting the line of birds on the horizon. “What are they doing? They’re not going to come over here are they?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t you come over and see what a guest was doing in your home?”

“Let’s keep moving.” Bobby ordered. The group moved on, footsteps crunching on fallen leaves.

*

“Okay, they are getting closer right? it’s not just me.” Chimney asked five minutes later Buck looked behind them to find the Emus still there, hovering over the horizon, definitely closer than before. Buck squinted as he followed the gaze of the closest one, seemingly right to Eddie.

“Not just you.” Hen said.

“..Does it look like they’re looking at Eddie to anyone else?” Buck asked.

“Very funny.” Eddie scoffed, shouldering past him. The birds moved forwards in tandem, inching further over the horizon like a strange little army.

“I don’t think he’s kidding.” Chimney said. “They’re looking right at you.”

“No, they’re not.” Eddie huffed.

“They might be.” The keeper said. “They are known to fixate on people.” Chimney took three dramatic steps away from Eddie. “If you follow me the guest is this way.” Bobby and Chimney moved to follow him. 

Buck waved to the Emu’s, they ignored him. Eddie took a step. Their eyes followed like those from painting in haunted houses.

“Seriously why are they looking at me?” Eddie breathed.

“Like he said, they’re curious creatures. When they find someone interesting they’re known to follow them, even in the wild.” Hen said.

“Follow them?” Eddie asked voice edged with uncertainty. He took a step back, the flock took another step forward.

“Aww, you made some friends.” Buck snorted.

“They’re just curious.” Hen reiterated. “Ignore them.” She took off after Bobby and Chimney. Buck cast one last glance at Eddie, still in a staring contest with the Emus before he scurried after Hen, falling into step with her.  

“How do you know so much about animals? I mean, every time we get a call to do with animals you bust out all these facts.”

“I watch a lot of animal planet.”

“Do you think you were like a vet in a past life?” Buck inquired. Hen shot him an unimpressed look.

“I think-” Her reprimand was cut off as their radios crackled. 

“Cap we have a problem.” The two turned around at Eddie’s radio call. Eddie was still in the same position as they’d left him. The Emu’s however, had moved forward to form a semi-circle around him. Heads snapping from side to side as they seemed to size him up with their beady gaze.

“They’re not like… dangerous, right?” Buck said, taking a half step towards Eddie as he noticed a few of the birds were actually a few inches taller than his friend.

“Eddie, you’re fine.” Hen said into her radio. “-just don’t make any-” Eddie took a clumsy step back, then another, and another before he was spinning on his heels and sprinting in the opposite direction. “Sudden movements.” She finished tiredly as the hoard of Emu’s took off after him. Long legs bounding across the floor with impressive speed.  

Eddie’s scream as he noticed them following tore through the otherwise quiet field.

“Holy crap, they can run.” Buck said.

“So can Eddie.” Chimney snorted.

“Eddie? Diaz, are you okay?” Bobby’s voice crackled through the radio.

“They’re going to kill me!” 

“You uh, ever seen this in one of your nature documentaries?”  Buck asked, watching as the Emus gained on Eddie and his screams switched to frantic Spanish yells.

“No. Pretty sure Dennys watched this episode of road runner though.” hen said, voice cracking with laughter. Buck quickly found his own honking laughter joining in. 

“Five bucks says he runs off a cliff.” Buck said.

“Ten says an anvil drops on him.” Chimney called, his laughter merging with there’s. Eddie disappeared over the horizon. The pounding of Emu feet following him.

“I need back up!” their radios roared. Buck clutched Chimneys arm for support as he keeled over, great guffaws of laughter leaving his sides stinging. 

“Hello?! Is someone there?!” The laughter stopped as suddenly as it started, all eyes snapping to the trees, a slither of red could be seen at the top of one of them. “Help me! I’m stuck!”

“Alright Hen, Chim you’re with me. Buck, go help Diaz.”

“Always get the fun jobs.” Chimney muttered as Buck took off in the direction Eddie had disappeared.

*

Eddie was easy to find, or, at least, the Emus were easy to find. The flock wandering around the fire truck, beaks snapping at the shining metal curiously. Buck shuffled towards it slowly, eyeing the birds with trepidation. He understood why Edde had run. They were huge, their long bodies bobbing as they prowled around the truck.

“Nice birdie.” Buck breathed, as he shuffled towards the doors. One eyed him, head twisting left, then right, brown eyes glinting in the sun before it bounded past him to peck at the ground. He continued, slow steps, even breathing. 

Relief rushed through him when he heard Eddie’s furious muttering floating through the cracked open window

“Oh Eddie, Eddie mira un lindo mono, bueno, ¿sabes qué, Buck? A la mierda los monos, ¿a quién carajo le importa? Y a la mierda llevar a Christopher al zoológico. No voy a ser perseguido por pájaros demoníacos de nuevo, malditos pájaros que parecen velociraptors. Ve a los bolos como las familias normales. Estúpido-” Eddie yelped as Buck opened the door and tumbled inside. He shut the door behind him before any of the emus could get their heads in the way.

“Relax, it’s just me.” He snorted. “They can’t open doors you know.” Eddie shot him a glare that had the smile falling from Buck’s face. “Holy shit dude.” He winced, looking at a trail of blood dripping from a split in Eddie’s lip. “Did they do this to you?”

“Yes.” Eddie huffed, dabbing at the blood. Half his uniform covered in dirt. “No.” he corrected Buck’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “Sort of. I….they were trying to peck me and I kneed myself in the face trying to cover up.” Buck wheezed out a hiss of laughter. 

“Si, ríete. Ya veremos que tan gracioso lo encuentras cuando estén picoteando tu linda cara.” Eddie grumbled bitterly, even as pink rose in his cheeks.

“Okay man, I have no idea what you said but I’m fairly sure it was an insult.”

“Pendejo.” 

“Now I know that was an insult:” Buck grinned. 

“It’s not funny Buck. I was almost killed.” Buck didn’t even try to stop the laughter booming out of him. Eddie shoved himself off the seat. Moving towards the door that really, they both know that he couldn’t use unless he wanted to be accosted by a flock of Emus again. Even so, Buck darted out a hand, catching his wrist before Eddie could find himself trapped with nowhere to storm off to.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Buck choked out, trying to blink the tears of mirth from his eyes. “I’ll stop.” he lied. 

“You’re an ass.” Eddie said stiffly.

“Oh come on, If this happened to me you’d be laughing.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Eddie said petulantly. Buck shoved him back onto the seat. “I’m a better person than you.”

“Well, The Emus certainly seemed to like you.” 

“This is you stopping?” Eddie sneered a move that he seemed to regret instantly when it tugged at his lip, his fingers prodded softly at the broken skin. “Fuck.”

“Aww. Did you give yourself a booboo.” Buck pouted, Eddie shut him a filthy glare. “Want me to kiss it better?” 

“Yes.” Eddie said. Buck reeled back as if slapped.

“What?” he choked. Eddie’s lips twitched, shoulders squaring as he sat up straighter, chin tipping up defiantly. 

“Kiss it better.”  He drawled.

“I-uh…I mean- what?” Buck floundered, watching as smug satisfaction seemed to ooze off of Eddie as he preened like one of the damn Emu’s outside. 

“That’s what you get for-” Eddie started, Buck dove forwards. Smashing their lips together. Eddie’s head hit the back of the seat with a thump, their teeth clinked together uncomfortably. Buck pulled back just as quickly as he dove in, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and ignoring the stutter of his heart begging him not to pull away.

“Better?” Buck asked, faux casually. Eddie gaped. “Need me to do it again?” He challenged. Eddie’s head dipped once in a nod before it was aborted.

“No, it’s better.” Eddie said. “I- uh…I didn’t think you’d do it. I was trying to embarrass you.” Buck flopped down next to him. Shoulders knocking.

“Yeah, I got that.” Buck said. “You should know better than to challenge a Buckley.” Eddie’s finger went back to probing at the split in his lip. Buck could taste copper against his tongue. Silence crept around them, an Emu’s beak snapped against the window. Somewhere a monkey howled.

*

“I still stand by a Zoo call being on the list!” Hen argued. The engine rocked beneath them. The highway zipped past outside the windows.

“We had monkeys sitting on us! How is that a bad call?” Buck exclaimed.

“I agree with Hen.” Eddie grumbled. “Zoo calls suck.”

“You’re just upset you’re a chick magnet.” Buck said, giggling at his own joke, he raised his hand chimneys palm hit his in an echoing high five. 

“I can’t believe you got attacked by Emu’s.” Chimney cackled.

“Best call ever.”

“Hey, Buck?” Hen said.

“Yeah?” 

“You got a little blood on your lip.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 13: On  Your Left

Summary: Ex- SHIELD Agent Katie Stark and Captain Steve Rogers have been dating for almost a year now, things are going pretty smoothly for once. A chance morning jog introduces them to Sam Wilson, before Steve is called away on a mission which doesn’t go quite according to plan...

Warnings: Smut (NSFW), no under 18s. And they say some bad language words.

A/N: Bonus additional scene- On Va Voir available...

So we are into the Winter Soldier Storyline. I've had LOADS of fun writing this.

Please re-blog if you like and send me any tag requests or suggestions you would like to see (as one shots or part of the main story) going forward by Ask.

End of March/Beginning of April 2014

"Turn it off," Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into. He moved slightly, but it wasn’t fast enough for her liking. "Steve!"

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” she grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here…” he teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for 5 days…I never sleep as well when you’re not here…” she mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you…” his arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk…” she said. “I mean what time is it anyway?” there was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions...” “Big girl…You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah… you’re huge…” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous…”

"Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time…”

Oh fuck this for a game of soldiers…if she was that moody about being woken up Steve was going to do something to remind her exactly why she chose to stay in his bed.

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning…” he muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“OK, if you want to actually get up now…” she muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop…” “I hit the snooze button…” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about 8 minutes left.”

“8 minutes?”

 “Reckon I only need 5…” he shot back

“You have a very high opinion of yourself…” she replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Oh, challenge accepted Doll! He said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, baby…” he whispered, his mouth returning to her neck…

4 minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, 2 shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his proposed time by a full 60 seconds. And 60 seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another 60 minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie almost 30 minutes to locate her trainers which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the 7 blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“6.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “You did 6 laps…that’s like what? 20 miles?”

“Nearer 22.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” he said, giving her a look. “You bitch like a 14 year old girl…” she said, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away  the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring 3 times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She'd given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi." a voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

"You normally run this early?" he asked "Haven't seen you around before."

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” she smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. "Sam Wilson."

I took it and gave it a shake. "Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an "On your left." as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

"I never tire of looking at these." she commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. "On your left."

"On your left."

"Uh-huh. On my left. I got it." Sam called after him as he entered his 5th lap.

Katie didn't even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam's face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder "Don't say it. Don't you say it!"

"On your left."

"Come on!" Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

"Are you alright?" Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

"Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…" Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

"Need a medic?" he teased.

"I need a new set of lungs." Sam chuckled breathlessly. "Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes."

"Guess I got a late start." He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes at her, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap." he scolded jokingly. "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

"What unit were you with?" Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

"Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson." He said motioning for help up.

"Steve Rogers." Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

"I kind of put that together." Sam says as he tried to catch his balance. "Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing."

"It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help” he said, looking at Katie who smiled. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It's your bed right?" Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. "What's that?"

"Your bed, it’s too soft." Sam went on to explain. "When I was over there, I'd sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I'm back home, in my own bed, feels like-"

Steve cut him off. "Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I'm gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?" he asked Sam

"Two tours." Sam responded. "You must miss the good old days huh?"

"Well, things aren't so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that's good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna' catch up."

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, 'Troubleman' soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you've missed jammed into one album."

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, "I'll put it on the list."

“We can download it later…” she said. He smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)'

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

"Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you wanna call running." He joked extending his hand.

"Oh that's how it is?" Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

"That's how it is." Steve responded, laughing slightly.

"Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

"Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil." she quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

"That’s hilarious." he commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, ok?” She took a deep breath. Ever since quitting SHIELD he knew she felt uneasy when he was away.

“Be careful.” she said, as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

"How you doing?" Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

"Hey." She responded with a small smile.

"Can't run everywhere." Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

"No you can't." Sam said and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” he teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

********* Turns out Sam was a pretty interesting character. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing we had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone 8pm. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn't too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

Steve’s day had been far less enjoyable. The mission, as a whole, had been a success. It had started well, Natasha doing her usual jibing, this time she was ribbing Steve about whether he was going to ask Katie to move in. He had batted off her teasing and told her to concentrate on her job first, and she had. Only it wasn’t the job he had given her. Turns out she had a different mission. One given to her by Fury. He’d been that mad about it all that he hadn’t spoken to the red head all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn't too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since that damned mission and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment 3 at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs spread out besides her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “No.” he said, turning away as unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she called back, “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket, and their first book that was launched little over a month ago had shot off the shelves, selling out in record time. Katie had been overwhelmed and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview her. She had declined all of them until the Stark Board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” she said as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” she said softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?” she asked, her eyes on his.

He nodded “Got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” he grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” she said stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner…”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the shower and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“What happened?” she asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS. And it wasn’t drifting. It was trespassing."

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite loaf. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.” she teased.

“Not at all.” he shook his head. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he kept the bottle of Arnica gel she’d insisted he keep to hand. As he ate she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side, the bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered…”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was given a separate mission, she was tasked with saving SHIELD data off the ship, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done…”

“More secrets” she sighed, feeling a flash of anger “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” he said, dropping the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but…how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” she said, softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?” he shook his head

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” she reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin “She has a job to do, same as you, and as for Fury then…well, call him out.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve said, “I’m seeing him tomorrow morning. After de-brief…”

“He will have a reason, might not be what you wanna hear but at least you’ll know.” she said.

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind he concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down and then stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want anymore?” she asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” he looked at her, hopefully. He did want. He was still hungry.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Ok, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” he said, standing up “And that’s an order baby doll.”

“Bossy bastard” she retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Ok, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long” he smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, headed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind her. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded. He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” she murmured, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” he practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that” she replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced over her hip, hand flattening as he crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching. He continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve…” she moaned softly, her tone pleading “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah…please Stevie…” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He gently guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He continued slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands pinning hers to the pillow above her head, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her gently. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her “That’s it baby girl…” whispering in her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” she said softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much…” he said, rubbing his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest. His arm curled round her, his hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” she asked gently, hand tracing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half 9…” he said, fingers still caressing her back.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” she said through her yawn.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife…” he said, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget that clusterfuck of a mission…

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” she whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck. As gently as she could she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be 25 past 7, 5 minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could. Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, he didn’t stir when she returned following her shower and was still out of it when she was dressed and unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She made a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made then previous day ready to bake in the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about 8:15, there was still no sign of Steve so she decided to go and wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey…” that soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost 8:15.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” she said so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “Coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” he smiled, rolling over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” she teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you doll.” he murmured. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past 4 months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on…it was almost normal, what people with normal 9 to 5 jobs did. He wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there thinking about it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear when he walked in.

“I know!” her tone was one of utter excitement “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York. He felt his mouth drop open at the image in front of him. Katie was stood, against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot resting against the wall, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, and a low cut white blouse.

“Yeah, I know Tony…” she was speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart as her elbows rested on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just 29 she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after 30 seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first 3 months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over 50% first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD…) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America? 

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” she replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” she said, the blush spreading from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was a shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala. Katie was in that red dress he loved, laughing at something and he was simply pressing a kiss to the side of her temple. A soft, understated PDA, but a reminder to everyone (in particular Mr Wandering Hands) who had eyed her up and down as they had entered the room that she was his. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony.” she said, simply “he brought me up from the age of 7, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal…” No shit! Steve found himself snorting as he continue to read “But once he had read Steve the Big Brother riot act, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

Do they get on? She laughs “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s 6 and even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last 2 years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends more than 30 seconds in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think its fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up…are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” she said, rubbing her nose against his as he smiled.

“I know baby.” he said, giving her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” she said as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” he smiled “And we can do something this afternoon.”

She smiled “Sounds perfect”

*********

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