#all i want from 1941 part 3 is a smile

[actual-changeling]

combing through the 1941 candlelight dinner like crowley would it KILL YOU to have even the hint of a smile please?????? aziraphale is vibrating out of his skin with affection meanwhile crowley is probably still in shock from shooting a gun at his face

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #good omens 1941 #all i want from 1941 part 3 is a smile

[rogersideup]

The Senses of Steve

Taste

Series masterlist

Previous part: Smell

Summary: With no one around, and nothing but a head massage to occupy your mind, you finally felt like you knew where you belonged.

Word count: 14,580

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Authors note: Hi besties! We’ve finally made it to the end :,) this chapter is currently un-edited because I wanted to push it out without you guys having to wait another day. I’ll be back to edit it and add proper content warnings tomorrow. Thank you for all your love and support on the series and dealing with the mistakes if you’re seeing this before the edit. I appreciate you all sm <3

"Here!" Steve announced as he walked into the room and placed a glass of freshly made iced coffee onto your vanity from behind you. "Drink this, coffee usually relaxes you, right?"

Your hair was up in a high messy bun and your makeup was only halfway done. You definitely looked a little crazy, but you kept telling yourself to trust the process. At some point you'd look like the best version of yourself, but right now... "Thank you, Baby." You smiled, dropping your eyeshadow brush from your hand to pick up the coffee.

He was right, vanilla cold brew was one of the most comforting tastes in the world to you. You drank it every morning without fail, sometimes you'd go for a second cup mid-day as a pick me up. Through good days and bad, you could always count on a good cup of coffee to wrap your senses up in a big hug and comfort you through any chaos life threw your way. One sip in and your nerves were slightly calmed, not enough to stop overthinking everything about the night ahead.

"Your dress is almost done being ironed, I'll grab it since I have to go get my suit anyways." He told you with kind eyes looking into yours through the mirror. "How are you feeling?"

His big warm hands gripped your shoulders, rubbing and squeezing away at the muscles to try and ease the anxiety. Tonight was a big deal, all of the avengers were asked to partake in an after award ceremony for the bravest men and women in the military. As a team you would smile, shake hands, and thank those for the sacrifices they've made after they were awarded with titles of great honor. Some people work decades for titles like these.

That in itself wasn't the issue, if it was just that you would have no problem attending.

The problem was that a few avengers let it slip that you would be receiving your own award tonight. The highest award the nation had to offer for gallantry, the Medal of Honor, all because you ran into that building with that bomb.

Oh, and your mom was going to be there receiving her own award.

Said mom you haven't spoken to since eighteen years old. Doesn't know anything about your life Mom.

"I don't understand why I need an award for doing what I signed up for." You huffed. "Oh you did the bare minimum? Here's a shiny medal!" you mocked, finding any and all ways to not show up tonight.

"What you did was not the bare minimum." Steve giggled at your antics. "You deserve the award, and you deserve to accept it." He kissed your cheek. "Stop deprecating the value just because you don't want to go. This is a big deal, we're going to celebrate our brave girl accordingly."

"Steve?" You questioned, he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better view of his favorite face in the mirror.

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember the year 1941?" You asked rhetorically.

"No, not at all." He shook his head with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, so you don't remember when you stood up the United States Senator in a room full of reporters and 10 members of the Parliament by not accepting your Medal of Honor?"

"Doesn't ring a bell" Steve giggled.

"Huh" You contemplated his lie.

"What can I do to make this easier?"

"Promise me we can leave right after it's over?" You begged.

"Promise." He agreed.

"Yeah? And what if the senator comes up to you and is like 'oh! Captain Rogers! It's so nice to see you! Let's have a fourteen hour long conversation about the political climate of our country that's so boring our partners are going to want to gauge their eyeballs out!' Hmm? Then what?" You challenged, earning more laughter from Steve.

"I'd say, sorry Mister Senator. My beautiful girl just got her Medal of Honor and has very important business to attend, I hope you have a wonderful night." He assured you.

A groan full of nothing but pure dread slipped past your lips as you slumped forward letting your elbows hit the vanity and your head fall into your hands.

"Baby, it'll be fine." His serious voice came out.

"I don't want to see my Mom." You complained fully understanding that you probably sounded pathetic to him. "I don't want to see my Mom, I don't want you to have to see my Mom, I don't want to hear anything she has to say, I don't want to have to fake a smile for a crowd as she walks across the stage we're on, I don't want to shake her hand, I don't want pleasantries, professional courtesy, and small talk where she pretends to care about anything I've been up to just because I'm an avenger now."

"What are the chances this is going to go poorly?" He asked.

"90 percent" You mumbled.

"That's a 10 percent chance that it'll go well." He raised. "We've made miracles happen with less than that, yeah?"

"I think the only thing worse than seeing her again going poorly is it going well. I don't want that." You lifted your head. "I don't want anything to do with her."

"Okay." Steve nodded in understanding, pressing a series of gentle kisses to your shoulder. "Then take it for what it is, okay? One night. Just a couple hours where you have to coexist in a room with someone who's a stranger now. You shake her hand once, you smile for the photo. Then when the time is right, you accept your award from all of us, we shower your in all the love and pride we could possibly give you, then we sneak out have some fun at the private after party, and the two of us will go to bed peacefully and completely relieved that the night is over."

"You missed a huge part" You reminded him. "Socializing, mingling. We're always expected to mingle."

"And I'll be with you the whole night" He grinned. "If she approaches, I'll do whatever I can to get you away. I'll make sure nothing terrible happens."

"How do you feel about tonight?" You questioned, trying to check in on his mind.

"Fine. Not too keen on meeting someone who caused you so much pain but getting to celebrate you outweighs all of that."

"You're too sweet for your own good, you know that, Rogers?" Your eyes closed and your face scrunched up with delightful giggles as he purposefully placed feather light kisses in the crook of your neck to tickle you.

"Remember how you got your dress altered?" Steve asked.

"Uh huh?"

"Took all that pretty fabric off the bottom cause it was too long for you." He smiled, still looking at you in the mirror. "I had them turn some of the extra fabric into a pocket square for my suit so we can match. Doesn't that make you like... a million times more excited to go?"

"A milliondy-trilliondy times more excited." Your smile stretched from ear to ear.

"It's going to be so great. Everyone in the room will know that the prettiest, bravest girl at the event is all mine cause I get to carry a little piece of your dress in my pocket."

"You're so sweet, I'd be lost without you." His arms wrapped around you from behind, and squeezed you generously.

"I'm the lucky one" The smile in his voice was apparent. "I'm going to the store really quick with Bucky, when I get back I'll bring your dress."

"Thank you" You appreciated his warmth for the last few moments with a big deep breath, lifting your hand up behind you and placing it on his cheek. The little hairs growing along his jawline were longer than you've ever seen or felt them since meeting him, it made you smile knowing he was feeling far too lazy to shave.

"Don't worry, I'll get rid of this thing on my face before tonight." He read your mind.

"I wasn't worried." You opened your eyes to read his expression. "I think you pull it off nicely."

"You know how much I hate shaving" Steve pouted.

"So why not grow a beard?" You questioned with a tiny bit of skeptical confidence.

"I don't think people want Captain America to be anything but clean cut." He admitted.

"I think Steve should be whoever he wants to be, and Cap is just going to have to be okay with that." You smiled as he nudged his cheek further into your hand. "You're perfectly capable of saving the world with a handful of hair on your face."

"I'll take that into consideration, beautiful." Steve giggled and kissed your hair once more. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay, have fun with your boyfriend!"

"I will" He laughed. "I love you, you're going to be fine."

"I love you too."

Steve came back about an hour later with your dress when you were finally done with your makeup and just finishing up your hair with a final run through of hairspray to keep all your hard work in place.

The both of you get dressed together and you couldn't help but to be endlessly thankful for him in those moments. He was helpful from cracking jokes to ease your mind, making you laugh as he cursed his three piece suit for being so confusing and having too many buttons, down to helping you zip up your dress and insisting on buckling the straps of your heels.

When you were both fully dressed, perfumed, and styled to the public's standard you took one final look at each other. Your shaky hands reached to straighten out the dark teal colored satin pocket square made of your dress, and centered his tie one last time before his hands caught yours.

He kissed the back of each one and professed that you were the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and in true Steve fashion, admitted that you were, in fact, so pretty that you still made him nervous.

Your love was so sickeningly sweet that the only thoughts that filled your head as you walked down to the event was questions of how you got to be so lucky, and what you could've possibly done to earn the life you had. The life where you were an avenger, and your boyfriend was quite literally the superhero of your dreams.

The same superhero tale that was told to you as a kid, the very one you dreamed would sweep you off your feet and provide you with the love you desperately needed and craved when you laid awake at night as a teenager, wondering what you did to deserve a dead father and a mother who didn't love you.

You had him now. You felt proud that you didn't need him to complete you. That teenager angst of two half's coming together to make a whole had been thrown out the window and been replaced with something so much healthier, and safer. You and your knight and shining armor were two wholes that enjoyed the luxury of love and affection. You could only hope that your growth shined through your posture and glowed through your skin with a golden, glimmering sheen.

You grew exponentially faster and larger than life since the last time your mother saw you. All you wanted now was for her to see it with her own eyes, and drink in the harsh reality that you were whole without her. Though not by choice, you were whole without your father. You are whole without your superhero, but a little extra shiny and radiant with him by your side.

You stepped through the large double doors into the luxurious and lively event room, a nostalgic wave of emotion overtook. It felt like parent open house night in elementary school, that after school event where your parents come to see your classroom, meet your teachers, and see some physical proof of your hard work.

This time your artwork didn't hang on bulletin walls with your name signed at the bottom with glitter glue, you weren't reading your poetry to classmates and their parents, your teacher wasn't praising you for being a joy to have around and a good example for your peers.

You couldn't help but to wonder if she felt the same- if your mother had grown and changed in your years of not speaking. Perhaps she bloomed and blossomed the same way you did, the harsh reality of life turning you both into diamonds. Maybe she was whole without you too, maybe she found the half of herself she lost with the passing of your father. There was a chance she was golden and glimmering, shining brightly with radiant wisps.

Steve pulled you out of your thoughts by squeezing your hand with excitement as he recognized a handful of friendly faces he hadn't gotten a chance to see in a while. You shared that joy with him when you finally worked up the nerve to look around the room too and being met with a whole bunch of old colleagues, mentors, and commanding officers you were more than happy to introduce to Steve.

Most of them reunited with you through kind words, congratulations, and praises higher than you thought you deserved. You accepted them modestly, mostly because if you didn't Steve would fight you tooth and nail until you did, then invited them to the private after party in the private sector of the compound.

If you didn't invite people to your own after party, then Tony would be the one to fight you.

As more familiar faces approached to reconnect, you soon found yourself in a bubble of love. The smile on your face never dissipated and laughter began to slip out as if you had nothing to be worried about in the first place.

The room continued to fill and more people began to take their seats in time for the ceremony to start. The Avengers were expected on the stage the whole time to take pictures and congratulate those who received their medals, so before they started their work, she wanted to loosen up a bit and start the night off right.

Steve was having a conversation with a group of people you didn't recognize, so you made a brave choice. When the moment was right as to not interrupt anyone, you let go of his hand and placed it on his upper arm to grab his attention. He leaned over a bit to hear you more clearly in the crowded room. "I'm going to grab a drink really quick, I'll meet you on the stage okay?"

His eyes became concerned and he continued leaning down to speak quietly in your ear. "You want me to come with you?"

"It's okay, Honey, it'll be fast." You reassured him. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have what you're having" he grinned and sent you off with a quick kiss to the crown of your head.

"Okay, I'll see you up there" His actions brought a smile to your face as you walked up to the bartender.

You waited in line before placing an order for two drinks, and as you waited for them, a hand landed on the curve of your waist.

"I made a promise to stay with you all night, I can't break it." Steve reminded you.

"Well I'm feeling better than I thought I would so it's perfectly okay if you do." You let him pull you close into his side, his big hand was keeping you warm.

"Is she here yet?" He questioned.

"Haven't seen her" You shook your head.

"Right now I think I might be more nervous than you are, I keep looking for features of your face in every person I talk to wondering if it might be her."

"Well, I've always been told I look more like my dad anyways." The bartender handed her the two drinks, she grabbed them both with a polite thank you and handed one to Steve. "these should help."

"Do you think she knows we're together?" He asked, trying to further understand the situation at hand like he was plotting the best way to fight a battle.

"Look at us" You giggled with a slight snort between your first and second sip. "Matching bracelets, matching outfits, I think the whole world knows we're together."

"...and that article was published in tmz last week" he thought out loud. "I'm just trying to figure out if she would approach me."

"Maybe." You shrugged. "But her opinion of you means shit to me."

Steve took a long sip of his drink, silently praying he would experience a miracle and maybe feel even a slight buzz from the alcohol. "I've never met any of your family before, even if you don't care I still feel like I care."

"Steve" Your hand found its way to his chest. "Everyone you've met tonight, the team, literally the people we both live with and see every single day are more like my family than my mother is. You have met my family, and news flash, they all love you. Everyone loves you. I love you."

"So if she hates me?" He asked.

"You get to join the club! She hates me too" You smiled, Steve bit the inside of his cheeks to try and hold back a laugh at your statement before shaking his head. "You're so handsome."

"You're deflecting" he raised an eyebrow.

"No I'm not" you denied. "I'm simply distracted by your beauty."

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said earlier." Steve let you know.

"Oh no, I say a lot of things all day long."

"I think Cap is okay with trying a beard"

"But you just shaved like an hour ago" You pouted.

"Steve shaved what an hour ago?!" Natasha's voice rang from behind the two of you.

Steve scoffed like a disappointed dad at her innuendo. "My face."

"I'm trying to get him to grown a beard."

"You missed a spot" She reached up and poked his chin, naturally he looked down at where her finger was pointing and she took the chance to drag it up his face to annoy him like two children in the elementary school playground. "Ha-ha made you look" she taunted.

You let out another adorable half snort as you laughed at the banter.

"You're so lucky we're in a room full of people right now or I'd be chasing you around the compound." Steve stated.

"So scary" you lied and over exaggerated your words, throwing your hands up in defense to hype up Steve's words. "Natasha, I'd be scared if I were you."

"Yup. I'm terrified." She said flatly. "Anyways, I was told you needed to get your freshly shaved face up on that stage. You too, teal dress."

"Sure thing" Steve nodded, and offered you his arm to walk over together.

The two of you followed Natasha since the three of you needed to get to the same place anyways.

You took your spot between Steve and Sam, anxiously playing with the straw in your cocktail as you felt eyes on you from all over the room. Once the guest speaker started, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes down on your feet to avoid meeting the gazes. Sam caught on to your nervousness, and in attempts to ease your mind he subtly put his arm around you.

He grabbed Steve's wrist and booted his arm off of you, just to take the formerly occupied spot and pull you into his side. Steve looked over at him and quickly shot a questionable sad puppy dog face, and Sam used his free hand to motion for him to relax.

"See this woman in the front? Blonde hair black dress. I saw her trip over her own heel in the parking lot earlier." Sam whispered in your ear. "And the guy next to her, blue suit, tried to catch her but ended up falling on his butt."

You tried to contain the laughter as to not draw attention to yourselves, trying your hardest to uphold the Avengers respectful and professional reputation. To get him back, you gently nudged him with your elbow and stepped away from his hold.

Focusing on the speaker made time fly so fast, before you knew it they were presenting you with your medal. Since you weren't technically in the military anymore, and the avengers held a special place in the hearts of the nation, an exception was made and rules were changed so that the team were the ones to present the medal to you at this ceremony completely separate from the rest.

Tony was able to say some remarkably kind words about you before placing it around your neck, surrounded by the very team who you thought all deserved it more than you did. They were the ones who assisted you in that very moment, the only difference between them and you was being in the right place at the right time.

As it was placed around your neck, you had no choice but to look straight into the crowd of people who were clapping for you. Unexpectedly, someone stood from their seat.

It caused a ripple of everyone else following the lead, and before you knew it everyone was standing. You wish you could tell them to stay seated, you wish you could hand the medal right back to where it came from, but you were stuck.

Your eyes were now glued on the woman who stood first for you. Your own flesh and blood, aged a couple years, grey streaks littering the hair color you once knew, standing and clapping for you with a smile full of pride smeared across her face.

Maybe she did change, but your teenage defenses came flooding in and your felt yourself become small. You shrunk inwards, prepared to tiptoe quietly as to not mess up the smile on her face that was always so fast to disappear at the smallest of accidental disappointments. The chances of her getting better were slim, but the chances that she was smiling and clapping for you, her precious daughter, was all a show for her own peers in the section around her was larger than your life itself.

Steve sensed your drop in confidence the very moment it happened, and followed your gaze. When he saw her he didn't even need to ask for confirmation, because although you denied your similarities, he found a woman who shared your smile and nose.

Unsuspectingly, you started receiving hugs and congratulations from each avenger. When Steve left a quick kiss on your cheek and pulled you in for his turn, you took the chance while you had it.

"She's here." You told him quietly, pretending as though he was congratulating you again for the millionth time that day alone.

"I know, I see her." Steve let you know. "Are you okay?"

"Yep" you had to keep it short and sweet to stay inconspicuous.

You managed to hold it together regardless of your personal feelings. Steve was right, there was so much love and happiness to be spread around tonight surrounded by your colleagues that you managed to bite your tongue and swallow away the bitter taste her presence left in your mouth.

When it was her turn to shake hands and take pictures with the team, they all did you a solid by taking up all the available space surrounding her. You managed to get away with a disingenuous smile at the very end corner of the group photo you knew she was probably dying to post on social media to show off your success.

The same success she had no part in nurturing, no reason to be proud of.

Years of your professional life was spent perfecting a handshake that was firm enough to show confidence, and soft enough to come across as friendly. She got your absolute worst, a single shake with a flimsy grip.

Petty? Maybe. Immature? Possibly. But you made it through a night you were dreading for months, so you were just proud of yourself for getting through it.

The moment the event was over and your professional engagement was no longer required, all of the Avengers were ushered off the stage and into the back halls to go straight to the private after party.

As insisted, you were going to have a fun time and nobody was going to take any excuse as a valid reason to not let loose. The moment you made it into the room where the party was, Tony placed a shot in your hand, and you immediately took it.

The vodka shooting down your throat pulled your mind away from the icky feeling that lingered in your soul. Your medal was taken off your neck by staff you'd trust with your life and was placed in a safe locked box in your room.

Music started, heels came off, and more people arrived to fill all the empty and quiet places with nothing but love.

Bucky and Sam grabbed you mid conversation with your old commanding officer and you were flung over Sam's shoulder. More shots, so much dancing with whoever could get their hands on you.

Every once in a while you'd look around to find Steve, and he was always somewhere around the room being pulled in a million directions talking to someone new with a big smile on his face. He seemed to be having just as good of a time as you were.

A few hours and a few shots went by before you needed a break from the high energy on the dance floor, so you grabbed a water and sat at the bar next to a friend you were happy to catch up with.

You swore you chatted her up without a care in the world, fifteen minutes felt like three hours. She got up to go to the bathroom and you chugged down the rest of your water before another person approached you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this all by herself?" Steve spoke smoothly like he was in an old time movie.

"Well you see, I'm not one to frequent a place like this, but it was dark and stormy out. I needed a warm place to go." You went along with the joke, your eyes did glance out the window to make sure it was, in fact, dark and stormy out. It was probably getting late but you had no concept of the time at the moment.

"Well, did you find it?" He questioned.

"Find what?"

"A warm place to hideaway from the storm?"

"Well, I certainly found a handsome fella to occupy my time while I wait for it to pass. With a face like that I outta' come around here more often." You shamelessly flirted with your own boyfriend.

"You found just the right man, Miss. You know, a beautiful dame in a dress like that in this part of town is quite dangerous. I'm going to have to beat everyone away with a stick." He smirked.

"Yeah? What would I have done without you?" You bat your eyelashes.

"Who knows." He shrugged.

"And what would those people have done to me?"

"They wouldn't appreciate you the same way I do." He shook his head.

You stepped closer to him and he took the chance to put his hand on the small of your back to keep you close. Feeling quite possessive of your sweet soldier, you claimed him too with a hand on his chest as you leaned in to make it a little more provocative.

"So, what would you like to do to me?" You blinked slowly.

His mouth dropped and cheeks flushed as you started pushing his buttons in a room full of people closest to you.

"Seems like you're not such a nice girl after all." He shook his head, eyebrows still raised and cheeks stippled with shades of pink.

He looked so cute like that.

"Never said I was, Captain." You instigated once more, definitely a little too drunk for your own good.

"Okay that's it" Steve laughed. "You're in for it now."

"No I'm not." You denied in a fit of giggles as you started taking big backwards steps towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He questioned, taking large playful steps towards you. "You can talk the talk but can't walk the walk?"

"Oh you wanna walk the walk right now? In front of all of these people?" You questioned, getting ready to run. "Never knew you were such a... voyeur."

"Baby, you're bad." Steve laughed as you turned around to face forward and squeaked out a drunken giggle, running barefoot through people trying to lose him.

He followed as fast as he could to the best of his abilities until he saw you run right out of the party ballroom into the more calm and quiet compound hallway.

With no people in his way now, he was able to pick up his speed and catch you from behind the second you let your guard down. His arms around your torso allowed him to pick you up and twirl you around causing another eruption of laughter.

He couldn't help but to laugh at your chaos and take on your contagious smile when he spun you around once more to face him.

"If I'm so bad then why'd you run after me?" You laughed, very gently play punching him.

He did a very good job at blocking your punches just as gently as you threw them at him.

"You're so bad" he repeated, shaking his head once again. "And when you walk around looking like this?! Truly a danger to my health and well-being"

"I feel like you brought this upon yourself." You threw the tiniest of punches to his shoulder, but his hand caught your wrist. "Who let you think that Captain America in a three piece suit was legal? Hmm? You're killing people, Stevie."

"You're so drunk" Steve laugh rang out.

"You're not drunk enough" You bantered.

"I tried to match you, but it's not working."

"Well obviously you're not trying hard enough!"

"Have you eaten anything in the past few hours?" He asked, poking your sides to instigate your childish laughter.

"You're so pretty, I'm going to eat you" You caught his arm the same way he caught yours a few seconds ago, and took a big ol' pretend bite right out of his bicep.

"Maybe you need more water" He rubbed the part of his covered arm that you pretended to bite, unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

"Bucky!" You exclaimed as Bucky walked out into the hall.

"Are you trying to eat him?" Bucky asked. "I came to rescue Steve from the cannibal in the hallway."

"You can't blame me, he looks and smells so yummy." You defended yourself, lifting Steves arm up to Bucky. "You want a taste?"

"I'm good." Bucky laughed, grabbing Steve's arm and placing it back down to his side.

"More for me" you shrugged.

"Sam and Nat wanted to know if you would take another shot with them?" Bucky asked what he actually intended to come all that way for.

"I don't know if that's such a great idea, big guy over here thinks I should be eating more food and drinking more water." You shook your head with a smile.

Bucky gasped and wrapped his arms around you from the side, cradling your head in his metal hand. "Steven! You're trying to sober her up? On her big night? You monster!"

"She tried to eat me!" He defended himself, hands up in defense, cheeks starting to feel sore.

"He sucks" Bucky rocked you back and forth. "Another shot?" He asked again.

"Will you hold my hair back while I puke?" You questioned right back.

Bucky released you and stepped away. "Sorry, not my job. Steve can help you out with that"

"I'm trying to prevent that" Steve defended the situation.

"I don't know who I'm supposed to trust anymore!" You said dramatically. "You both wouldn't hold my hair back for me, that's so mean"

"I didn't say that" Steve denied.

"Bucky, I don't think Steve would love me if I was a worm" You told the other soldier.

"I'm sorry, Doll. I would love you if you were a worm even if he didn't." Bucky played along.

"If you were a what?" Steve questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"A worm, Steven." Bucky scoffed. "If she turned into a worm, would you still love her? Really, it's a simple question."

"Baby, if you turned into a worm I'd make you the worm house of your dreams and take care of you." Steve claimed your statement to be false.

"Ha! ...and Bucky wouldn't even hold my hair back."

"Which is exactly why you're my girl and not his." Steve proudly claimed you, following Bucky's actions and claiming you in his own arms after seeing you wrapped up with his best friend.

"Hey, give her back!" Bucky pouted.

"Nope, all mine" Steve denied as you laughed in his hold.

"I guess I should tell Sam and Nat no more sho-" Bucky started, but was cut off.

"Chameleon?" A fourth voice made you freeze in place, and the nickname you haven't been called since childhood made your once happy heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You didn't want to look, you didn't want Steve to let you go, and you hoped that it was an odd coincidence from a stranger trying to pass through the halls.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work that way. Steve slowly let you out of his arms, immediately fixing his tie and pressing down his suit jacket while standing tall.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Yeah, uh, I'm going to go find Sam and Natasha." He turned on his heels and walked right back into the event.

Steve didn't really know what to do in that moment, but you knew that you felt stone cold sober now and you wished you could go back to three minutes ago when you were having a blast annoying the soldiers.

"Captain Rogers, honor to meet you." Your mom appeared in front of you, reaching her hand out to shake his for a second time tonight.

For the first time ever, you saw Steve in a moment of being rendered speechless. He didn't know how to respond, if it was appropriate to congratulate her on success in the military, or if he should be yelling at her for being unauthorized in a high security building approaching a private event with no invitation.

He shook it, and opened his mouth hoping that something, literally anything would come out. Instead, she spoke once again.

"You two seem to be comfortable with each other!" She enthused. You knew where this was headed, and you immediately wanted to cry. "And my gosh, my little chameleon, you've become not so little anymore. I hardly recognized you, you've grown into yourself so well... an avenger? Wow."

"Is that so hard to believe?" You questioned, speaking your first words to her since 18 years old.

"Do you remember that photo of you that your dad took when you were 8 years old? The one where you were running around the back yard with a plastic Captain America shield?"

"Mom" You warned, already feeling embarrassed enough to want to fall through the floor.

"I still hear that tiny voice screaming loud enough for all the neighbors to hear that you were going to save the day. And here you are." She looked from you, to Steve, then back at you with judgmental eyes. "Yeah. It's a little hard to believe."

There was no super hero in the grand scheme of the entire multiverse that could come and save you from being belittled in front of Steve. You knew he couldn't cut in unless she was being downright disruptive, and he couldn't leave and live with himself for breaking a promise to you.

"And why is that?" You shrunk into yourself and glued your eyes to the floor, suddenly remembering your bare feet.

You were no longer glowing or radiant, you didn't feel quite as big as you did all those years away from her. You knew now what she saw, a drunken disappointment in the hallway, an imposter, a mess with no shoes taking advantage the only man who could fill the broken void of your childhood.

But you never thought of Steve that way, and certainly that's not why you fell in love with him. Standing in front of her and next to him, you had never felt so insecure.

Did you subconsciously fall into the lap of this relationship to heal parts of yourself that therapy couldn't? Was it weird or morally wrong to be romantically involved with Steve? Did you trap him with a sob story and make him feel too bad to leave?

Holy shit. Did you have do defend this behavior and your relationship in front of your mother?

Maybe it was time to retire this career and start a new one somewhere else. Something small and simple, maybe a barista in an independently owned coffee shop, or a florist spending your day with your nose deep in the flowers.

"I guess when you were a kid you were just so focused on yourself and so... heartless... it's hard to imagine you living a life revolved around selflessness and empathy." She spoke so casually you almost accepted those words as true.

You could hear Steve take in a big breath, he squirmed in place, visibly uncomfortable with the situation and upset by her words.

"Heartless" you repeated quietly. The room spun around you but you weren't sure if that was the anxiety or the alcohol. "Selfish. How? How are those the only two words you could think of to describe me when all I did with my life before adulthood was take care of you?"

"Take care of me?" She scoffed. "You know how hard I had to work every day to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head?"

"That's the bare minimum you sign up to do when having a kid." You mumbled.

"After all these years I thought that maybe you would've changed your mind about me being some sort of villain."

"You've done nothing to change my mind. No apologies, no effort to mend our relationship..."

"Maybe it'll take you having your own kids to understand how hard it is to be a mother." She cut you off. "But seeing as you can't treat your own flesh and blood with respect, you aren't fit to be one yet."

"I think you've mistaken this event as an open house, and I think you're here way past your allotted time." You finally spoke up.

"And this continuing to be your behavior even under today's circumstances and in front of one of the most respected men in the world is disappointing." Her voice got louder to undermine the fact that yours did too. "Imagine explaining this to your 8 year old self. What would she think? I know your father would be disappointed at best."

"What exactly are you here for, ma'am?" Steve instantly snapped when she tried to weaponize his very existence using her dead father.

Your vocal cords were tied tightly into a knot, nothing could come out, you could barely breathe, and a single tear fell down your cheek. In attempts to not let her win, you wiped it away as quickly as you could.

"I wanted a chance to congratulate my daughter, but I'm not so sure she deserves that anymore." She spat venom at you. "You know, a flashy title and a medal around your neck means nothing without a family to love you."

"She does have a family that loves her, they're all in that room right now." Steve proudly wrapped his arm around you and pointed to the party. "There's a reason why you aren't allowed in there, so I suggest you leave. Especially because I'm sure your commanding officer would be disappointed to hear that you're continuing this dishonorable behavior in front of one of the most respected and remarkable women in the world."

You couldn't even help the sob that escaped the back of your throat before covering your mouth with your hand and hiding your face into his side. He could've used his own title and authority to scare her off, but instead he picked you up off the floor she held you down on and placed you on a pedestal above her head.

She tried to make you feel small, perhaps that's how she always saw you, but Steve always thought you were larger than life. His actions and words continued to prove that in every difficult situation.

He was always so soft and kind around you that you forgot that he even had such a stern and commanding bone in his body.

"She is my daughter." You mother stood her ground.

"You do not own her. Leave." Steve practically growled.

The silence was loud as she scoffed and walked off with a stomp in her feet, hands balled into fists.

Steve left you for a moment to tell the nearest security to escort her out and make sure she actually exited the premises this time, and by the time he got back and placed his hands on your shoulders to console you, he was nothing but soft again.

Your hands hid your face, too embarrassed to even speak to him at the moment. Overwhelmed, ashamed, consumed by anxiety on the brink of a panic attack, you couldn't step foot in that room again.

Not with tears streaking your mascara and the hem of your dress bunching against the floor due to your lack of heels.

Steve felt his heart squeezing in his chest when you couldn't even open your eyes to look at his face, he could only imagine you were feeling belittled and embarrassed. He would do anything to take that weight off your shoulders, make sure you knew that you had nothing to be ashamed of, but no words would break through the barrier you had to build in order to protect yourself.

You needed your own time and space to break that down, and you would. You were brave enough to do so. Just not right now, not when you desperately needed a bulletproof casing to keep all of the harsh words and criticism out of your mind.

"Baby" Steve's hands traveled from your shoulders up your neck and onto your own hands that hid your face. "You're okay, I love you. It's okay"

"I have to go" Your voice shook.

"That's okay" His thumbs ran along the backside of your hands. "I know you need some alone time, but would you like me to walk you home or are you going to be okay getting back on your own?"

"I'm fine." You inhaled deeply and rubbed your face once more before dropping your hands and crossing your arms over your chest tightly. "I'll be fine."

"Alright" Steve kissed the top of you head. "I'll come check on you in a bit."

It was hard for him to let you walk away by yourself when all he wanted to do was make sure you got home okay and tuck you in tightly under your blankets, but letting you go alone was what you needed in that moment so he forced himself to take that step back.

He walked back in that room and explained the situation to Tony and Bucky, and stayed a little while longer acquainting himself to all the important people in your life who loved you so deeply.

About an hour and a half later, it was well into the middle of the night and guests started leaving so he took the opportunity to sneak out and contemplate his next move on the walk back.

He didn't want to bother you or make you feel pressured into being around him if you still felt defensive, but the thought of you sleeping in a cold bed alone all night when you were already so sad made him want to cry a little bit.

He decided that the best thing to do was to change out of his formal wear and into some sweats before going into your room to check on you. Maybe some extra comfort would be beneficial to the both of you.

Unlocking his bedroom door and stepping through, he kicked off his shoes and ran a hand through his styled hair before noticing the lump under the covers of his bed. It made his heart beat a little faster before it melted into a puddle.

He changed into sweatpants and a hoodie as quickly as he could, as he brushed his teeth he took note of how you turned off the soundproofing to hear the rain putter against the roof and floor to ceiling windows.

Once he was ready to submit to the night, he walked over to the side of his bed you were sleeping on. Normally it was his side, but he could tell you planted yourself there for a reason, and who was he to disturb that?

He kneeled next to the bed, and only when he tucked your hair behind your ear did he notice that you were sound asleep.

All the makeup you worked so hard on was gone without a trace, your eyes were swollen and your nose was stained pink. Although you were sad, he couldn't help but to smile. He thought you looked just as beautiful this way.

Realizing he didn't want to wake you, he planted a feather light kiss to your head before walking back to the other side to slide in next to you.

Though he tried his hardest, you woke up to slowly being engulfed by your favorite strong arms, and pulled against your favorite warm body. You shuffled backwards a bit to meet the front of his body with the back of yours, one of your hands intertwined with one of his while the other held onto his forearm that was keeping you safe and secure. You brought the back of his hand to your mouth before kissing it and tucking it into your chest close to your heart.

"I'm sorry" you sleepily mumbled, feeling a pang of physical pain as he held you so tenderly.

"I'm not allowing you to apologize for something that's not your fault." Steve denied. "None of that has ever been your fault."

"You shouldn't have had to hear that, or see me like that. So, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be." Steve settled, his chin nuzzling into the top of your head. "I'm sorry you've been treated like that for so much of your life. You deserved so much better."

"I'm not allowing you to apologize for something that's not your fault" You repeated his words. "Thank you for sticking up for me, that's the first time anyone has ever spoken up to her."

"Anytime, Princess." He squeezed your hand. "I hope you know that you aren't the one your father would be disappointed in."

You nodded, feeling the tears rush back to your eyes. If you speak another word they would flood the gates and flow until you got yourself to sleep again.

"He would be proud, so so proud of you. I'm proud of you. Everyone in their right minds is proud of you, and the world owes you an un-payable debt."

"I didn't even do anything that special" Your voice accidentally jumped an octave higher in your losing battle against your tears.

"Yes you did, and I'll shout it from the rooftops until you understand." He squeezed you a little tighter. "I think the whole world of you. No matter what your role, daughter, avenger, friend, girlfriend, maybe even mom one day if you want to be, you hit the ball out of the park. You exceed all expectations, and if someone can't see that, that's on them. That's not on you. I'm the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of loving you."

"I love you so much" You told him, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the tears.

"I love you too." He calmly exhaled. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need a snack or some water?"

"I'm okay, I think I just need to sleep." You slowly flipped onto your other side to face him.

"Okay." He let you dig your face into his chest as he held you tightly in his arms to hide you away from the world that had hurt you tonight. "Wake me up if you need me, alright? Sweet dreams, sweet girl.

"Sleep tight." You mumbled into his chest.

He woke up pretty late the next morning given that everyone had been awake until 2am the previous night. The sun was shining aggressively bright through the large windows and hitting his eyes, he could hear birds chirping and the hustle and bustle of whatever was going on outside. You weren't with him in bed, but he could hear the sounds of cookware in the kitchen, the unusual whirl of the mixer being used.

He got up and stretched, not even bothered to fix his hair before dragging his feet all the way to the common area that was oddly empty except for you.

You could hear him coming, the shuffling socks on the hardwood was a dead giveaway. He stopped and looked around before blinking slowly at you in confusion.

"Where is everyone?" He questioned sleepily, sitting down on a stool at the island and letting his head and back slump forward onto his elbows.

"Deployed." You answered, measuring out powdered sugar to add to the butter and vanilla in the mixer.

"Really?"

"Yep" you popped the P dramatically. "Literally everyone but us two got put on emergency last night around 4. They must've heard what happened and decided to cut us some slack, we have the whole place to ourselves." You grinned with amusement.

Your dimpled cheeks were so refreshing to his worried and busy mind.

"Hmmm" he hummed, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander for a while.

After a few minutes, you placed a cup of coffee in front of him just how he liked it before rubbing his back and kissing the adorable blonde mess on top of his head. "Still sleepy?"

"I'm getting old, baby. I stay up late for one night and I feel like I have to sleep for two days to recover." He complained, perking up at the smell of coffee.

"Well, you can sleep all day if you want and nobody is here to make fun of you for it." You noted, stopping the mixer once your frosting was nice and smooth.

"Sounds so nice" Steve yawned after taking down some coffee and letting his head fall again.

As you put the frosting into a piping bag with a metal tip on it, you mind couldn't escape last night. You were trying your very hardest to disregard all the weird thoughts your mom planted into your head, especially the ones about your relationship with Steve.

You never questioned the dynamic before, no one has ever brought it up, but now you were clouded and fogged by worry.

A morning alone with him should feel domestic and happy, a small glimpse into what the future could hold if you chose that for yourselves.

Rain falling outside, both of you bundled up in your coziest clothes, your extra lazy boyfriend falling asleep slumped over the island with a hot cup of coffee, homemade cupcakes that were begging for some frosting.

People would kill for moments like these, and you couldn't even enjoy it through your racing heart and even faster mind. Your mom made you question your intentions with your sweet boy with one single glance, and now you couldn't help but to feel like he deserved better all over again.

You should've been brave and stood up for yourself. You should've told her how you really felt, aired out all your dirty laundry, screamed it from the top of your lungs, but instead you mumbled and muttered and cried.

Brave, mighty, strong, none of those words seemed to suit you. Maybe this really wasn't the job for you, and that feeling of uncertainty you had the first few weeks here was more of a gut feeling you weren't cut out for this.

You mindlessly piped frosting onto the cupcakes and got halfway through the dozen before Steve's head popped up in realization and pouted.

"You're baking?" He asked.

"Mhm" you nodded quietly, eyes fixed on the cupcake you were working on.

"Not feeling very talkative?"

"Just a little tired, that's all." You tried to convince him you were okay as to not inconvenience him any more than you already have.

He didn't do much in response to that, and it made your heart sink. You fully convinced yourself that he had given up on you.

You officially annoyed him and pushed jokes too far while you were drunk last night, you shouldn't have let Bucky hug you the way he did, maybe you should've found a different color dress that matched your complexion a little better.

"Oh my god!" You squeaked in surprise when you were lifted up and placed sat on the counter. "What the heck, man?!"

Piping bag still in hand, cupcakes pushed out of the way, Steve stood between your legs. You didn't even notice him get up or hear him coming.

"I love you, do you not understand that?" Steve questioned with all the seriousness in the world dropping from his tone.

"I'm confused" You cocked your head to the side.

He took the bag of frosting out of your hand and placed it on the counter. "You only bake when you're sad. I can tell your mind is running away from you, and you're shutting me out."

"I didn't mean to shut you out" you admitted sadly, your gut already telling you what's coming.

"You don't have to lie to me and say that you're tired instead of saying what's actually wrong. You know I can tell the difference."

"I'm sorry, I- it's just tha-" you scrambled to try and explain what what going on in your head. "I'm trying to process. That's all."

"You still won't even look at me." Steve told you, coming your hair through his fingers. "Why?"

You made it a point to look at his face, and all you saw was golden honey, the sweet angel who you've grown to love with all your heart.

You sighed and slumped.

"You can tell me the truth" he reminded you sweetly.

"My mom takes my self esteem and crushes it into tiny little pieces" You let the words leave your mouth. "Right now, I'm trying to convince myself that everything my brain is telling me is a lie and that I deserve to be here with you."

"Look at me" He grabbed hold of your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to direct your head back up. When you looked him in the eyes, he continued speaking. "I love you. All of you. Everything about you. If you need me to say that a billion times to believe it, I'll do it."

"Do you want a cupcake?" You offered, picking up a frosted one off the counter.

"I love you"

"There's no sprinkles yet but I can put some one really quick"

"I love you"

"It's vanilla cake with american buttercream" you started unwrapping it.

"I love you"

"I know you like cream cheese frosting but we were out of cream cheese so this was the best I could do."

"I love you"

"Steve" You complained.

"Hmm?" His hand rubbed your thigh while the other remained on your back.

"Will you please eat this cupcake before I lose my mind?" You pleated.

He took it from your hands and put it to your mouth prompting to take a bite first, and once you did he took one too.

"Oh my god" he thew his head back. "So fucking good. Another reason why I love you so much."

"Steve"

"What?"

"I love you" You told him.

"I know you do" He set the other half of the cupcake down, taking note that he would definitely finish it later. "Quite honestly, I'm a little offended that you don't know that I love you. Means I'm not doing my job right."

"I know you do, you're doing your job very well." You told him, he pulled you forward so he could touch just a little more of you.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow.

"But... how I'm feeling right now is not your fault. You shouldn't feel a responsibility to fix it. I'll be okay, I just need some time."

"Can I have more frosting please?" Steve asked politely.

Too wrapped up in your own mind to verbally respond, you grabbed the piping bag next to you, and squeezed some onto his finger that he had held out and waiting.

He quickly smeared the frosting onto the tip of your nose before his cheeks turned pink and a laugh escaped.

"Oh you suck" You but the inside of your cheek to try and contain the smile you didn't want him to know you had. "Jokes on you, you didn't even get to eat anymore frosting. Let me help you out with that"

You squeezed the bag as hard as you could over his lips, he turned his head to try and get away but it ended up smearing all the way up the left side of his cheek.

His mouth hung open for a moment in surprise before swiping it off his face and into his mouth.

"Just as delicious when I eat it off my face" He stated, then boldly licked it off the tip of your nose. "And yours"

"You're crazy" You said while wiping your nose with the back of your hand with joy that seemed to be breaking through the thick barrier of sadness. "And still so handsome, even with frosting face"

"Yeah?" A lopsided smile poked through.

"Yeah"

Steve grabbed the sides of your face before going in for a steady kiss, lengthy and impassioned. Just his lips alone were telling you everything you needed to know, like he was speaking to you through through physical touch. Just when you started to feel like you needed to catch your breath, he pulled away and let his forehead settle on yours.

"However you feel, however she makes you feel is not your fault." He whispered against your lips. "But what I'm never going to let her do is dictate the way you feel about yourself, and let her get into your head about the way I feel about you."

In a moment of lust and desperation to not have to process the hard emotions that came with the words he was speaking to you, you initiated another buttercream flavored kiss. Vanilla and sugar tasted oh so sweet on his tongue as his hands traveled down to your hips. Once again, the unfortunate human need to breath to survive got in the way of your plans to shut him up.

"I've never doubted your ability to keep up. You are your own toughest critic. I've never met anyone more capable of being here and being mine." He continued, planting a few quick pecks to your silky smooth lips. "I thank the universe for you every day, and I love you."

"Damn it, Steve." You dramatically flailed your arms before running your hands up his back. "How do you always know what to say and do to make any situation better? How are you this perfect?"

It started becoming a little hard to speak between kisses, and even though you were now glued to his front and latched onto him like a koala, you still couldn't seem to get close enough.

"I just thi-"

"Will you stop for a second and just keep kissing me?" You spoke against his lips. "I can't get enough of you."

"Yes ma'am" He nodded with shades of pink quickly stippling across his cheeks before following strict orders.

Passing time was a concept that completely dissipated as the two of you entangled yourself. Seconds, minutes, hours, none of it mattered. Not when your mouths tasted like cupcakes and your bodies were so warm to contrast the winter rain hitting the windows.

Your hands were never shy to roam and dance around his incredible body, you loved gliding your hands over all the smooth bumps and ridges of muscle. As you snuck your hands up the back of his hoodie, they found their rightful place on his shoulder blades. He physically shivered and you could feel goosebumps raise on his skin causing both of you to giggle into each others kiss.

"You know the good part of the whole team being gone is that we get to eat all the cupcakes by ourselves" Steve spoke again now that he found a natural break in the heat of the moment.

"I'm sure you'll have no issue accomplishing that" You agreed with him.

"And you know the other good part of the whole team being gone?"

"Hmm?" You questioned.

"I get to take my time with you." He kissed the very corner of you jaw right under your ear. "Savor every square inch of you" working his way down your neck, he made it to your collar bones. "You get to be as loud as you need, and I get to take you right here, right now."

His words got you worked up embarrassingly fast. The crimson headache flooded all of your logical reasoning, and every single part of your body was aching to get him closer, take him deeper, crawl into him. It was intoxicating.

"People eat on this counter, baby" You tried reasoning with him, though you were a little more than excited for what was about to come.

"I'll clean it" He pulled your sweater over your head just to be visibly annoyed by your tank top underneath. Attaching your mouths in a steamy kiss dialed up a thousand degrees, more worry filled your head.

"The cameras" You wined feeling like there were too many obstacles in the way. "What if someone hears us?"

He had never been this risky or adventurous before, it had your head spinning and your center throbbing with need. "Friday" Steve called out to the artificial intelligence controlling the building while working off his own sweatshirt.

"How may I assist you, Captain?" She responded just as he got it over his head and tossed it on the floor.

"Turn on private sector soundproofing, and turn off visual and audio recording" He had to practically pry you off of him as you started making advances on him, your hands wandered down the front of his stomach while you kissed his shoulders in attempts to get his pants off.

He caught your wrists in his hands and shook his head before attaching your lips together hungrily as Friday assisted in the necessary steps before the two of you could shed more layers.

"Request complete."

"This isn't about me, so don't even try it." He informed you, voice husky with arousal. "I want you to feel how loved you are, so all I want you to do is relax, feel good, and take it. Okay?"

"That seems a little unfa-" He cut you off by attaching your lips and grabbing the bottom of you tank top to pull over your head.

"Okay?" He asked again once you were in sweatpants and a bra. It was less of a question and more of a demand.

"Okay" You released a shaky breath and a semi-nervous nod.

No matter how many times you found yourself in this position with him, you never found yourself to be less nervous about it. He always made you feel comfortable, cared for and so so good, but he was just so incredibly beautiful and commanding.

It was like ravenous butterflies exploding out of your stomach, and flooding upwards into your racing heart, tingly lips, swarming in your brain. Just looking at his blown out pupils and fast breathing made you feel needy and restless until you got exactly what your body needed.

He pulled your body closer once more, kissing you as one hand unhooked the back of your bra and the other held the back of you head steady. You shrugged it off and he tossed it onto the floor.

Steve couldn't help the satisfaction as you began to take off your own pants for him, so quick to trust him and allow him to make you feel good that you did the work to get him exactly where you needed him as fast as you could. All while his hands massaged your boobs, nipples between his thumb and forefingers, and his lips sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck that always left you whimpering.

"You looked so beautiful last night" he stated as his hands made their way to your hips, they squeezed gently before they removed the last remaining piece of fabric from your body leaving you completely bare for him. "I thought, wow how could anything be more beautiful than my girl right now? Then I woke up and saw you, and somehow I'm having those same thoughts all over again."

He kissed slowly down your body while pulling you forward to the very edge of the counter, and just as his lips made it to your lower belly, he stood back up and kissed your lips. He used his own body to encourage you to lay back onto your elbows as his hands massaged you thighs, they squeezed and moved in appreciation, celebrating how strong and soft they were. A risky movement occasionally sent a finger too close to where you needed him, and when his mouth attached to you right nipple, you almost saw stars.

Steve pulled his favorite sound out of you, tiny whimpers traveled from your throat, into his ears and right to his dick. Pleasuring you was his greatest form of gratification, nothing made him harder more than knowing you felt good.

"Baby" You complained, obvious need dripping from your voice.

"What's wrong, honey?" He pouted at your whine, almost mocking you.

"You're such a tease"

"We've got all day" He devilishly grinned, more fingers grazing your center. "So much time"

You felt so needy, throbbing beyond comprehension you couldn't even help yourself. You needed something, anything. "Please" you begged.

"How would you like me to please you?" He asked, just the idea of getting to choose made you let out a little noise.

Steve knew that you were completely oblivious to the way your hips were subtly rocking back and forth to try any feel anything at all, your thighs squeezed together to try and create friction. He wasn't having that, so he spread your legs apart and stood between them again so you physically couldn't close them.

"Something, anything" Your head spun.

"I just love you so much that I want to kiss every inch of you." He justified his actions. Holding onto your wrist, he kissed all the way down your upper arm to the back of your hand. Grabbing the piping bag once more, he squeezed frosting onto your two dominant fingers before shoving them into his mouth to lick it off and letting them linger while he coated them the best he could. You were speechless and so turned on that you we're convinced the pressure in your pussy would make you explode if you didn’t do anything about it soon.

"I want you to love yourself as much as I love you" He popped your fingers out of his mouth and guided your hand downward, making you touch yourself. "And since you're feeling too desperate to let me warship you the way that I want, you're going to practice some self love."

You couldn't even control yourself as you ran your fingers through your folds before adding pressure and drawing little circles around your overly sensitive clit. Letting out a moan, you couldn't believe how good you felt. All of this behavior was so new to Steve, it was naughtier and dirtier than your very private and vanilla prince ever let on. The whole scenario added to your pleasure as your mind ran laps around how hot it was.

"There you go" he sighed, finally feeling like you could both have exactly what you wanted.

Usually you'd feel a little self conscious under anyone's watchful eye, let-alone someone who looked like Steve, but his eyes were telling you that he wanted to devour you whole.

More moans continued to slip out past your mouth as you pleasured yourself in front of him, and he massaged, nipped and sucked anywhere he could get access to.

"How does that feel, princess?" He questioned, kissing you before you even got the chance to answer. "You making yourself feel good?"

"Mhm" You moaned out something close to a response.

"You look so pretty like this" He spoke into the shell of your ear. "Is this what you do when we're away from each other?"

"Yeah" you squeaked. “Miss you too much when you’re gone”

"When you send me all those naughty pictures when you know damn well there's nothing I can do to help myself?" He teased. "It's even more beautiful in person- watching you get off and I'm not even doing anything to help."

"Steve, please" You moaned, his words carried you a lot further than you'd like to admit.

"Nuhuh. Nope" He denied. "I'm not even going to think about touching your pussy until you give yourself all the love you need. Make yourself cum, then I'll consider."

New mission in mind, you started working towards your goal. Slipping in two fingers, one after the other while continuing to play with your bud made that fire in your belly burn even brighter.

Steve could tell you were getting closer, all he could do was prey that you'd climax soon because he's never wanted to please someone more than in this moment. You just looked so helpless, but that was something you'd have to get through all on your own.

"Besides, I'm enjoying the show a little too much to put an end to it yet." He smiled.

Although he was putting on a front, he wasn't a complete asshole and he still wanted you to feel his love stemming through every moment your bare skin was under his hands, so he continued to play with your nipples to deliver as much gratification as he could without touching you where he vowed not to.

More moans flowed and each one was louder and more worked up than the next, that pressure kept building and that fire kept burning hotter and hotter but it never snapped.

Thoroughly frustrated, you babbled out what you think was along the lines of "ugh,baby, I can't. I can't- please"

"Yes you can" Steve reassured you. "Come on, sweetheart, make yourself cum."

You thrusted your fingers in and out of your hole a little faster, rubbed your clit a little harder, and felt all the more frustrated.

"You make such pretty sounds, my love." He cooed in your ear. "We've got so much time, why do you want to cum so fast? Hmm?"

"I want you to fuck me" You cried out.

"Wow, all this just for me?" He asked. "Can't even imagine how pretty you'll sound when I finally touch you."

The pressure built and built...

"I've never wanted to make love to you more than I do right here, right now. Cum for me, let me make you feel good honey." He whispered.

His lips met yours once more then...

Snap.

You gasped and moaned a little louder than usual, Steve smiled against you.

"There she is!" He exclaimed proudly as you painted and tried to catch your breath. "How was that?"

"So dirty." You finally giggled, feeling a million pounds lighter with release. “I love it when you’re naughty like this.”

“You left me no choice” Steve tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, I feel great” You nodded with a tired attempt at a smile.

“Yeah? You wanna keep going?” He questioned searching for a genuine response. “This is all about you, my love.”

His genuine concern for your well-being during sex always made you want him even more.

“Please.” You nodded before reaching your hands around his neck and pulling his bare torso against you and attaching your lips. All you wanted in that moment was to feel his skin on yours.

“Need a break?” He offered.

“Steve”

“I love the way you say my name” He admitted, kissing your nose.

“Will you please just fuck me?”

“I will” He reassured you. “…eventually.”

You closed your eyes and accepted that you would get what you wanted with time.

“But for now, I have other plans.” He stood up to his full height, never allowing his hands to remain still against your skin. “Just relax”

“It’s a little hard to relax with you between my legs” You admitted.

“That sounds like a personal problem” he stated before sinking to his knees, and his hands finally making it to your pussy. His thumb very gently started working your clit again until he felt like you were ready to take his fingers. After sliding one in and curving it slightly upwards, your beautiful sounds came back to warm his soul. “Poor baby, you’re so wet.”

“Wonder how that happened” You sassed, eyes remaining closed to try and allow yourself to actually relax and concentrate on the sensation he was providing to your body.

With no warning, his thumb disappeared and was replaced by his mouth. His tongue explored for a few moments before his lips attached and started sucking and licking your bud.

It pulled a heavenly moan and you rocked your hips before falling back onto your elbows, your fingers lacing in his hair. Steve’s head popped up in a small moment of concern.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, hands roaming the curves of your hips.

“God no- that felt so good” You shook your head, opening your eyes to look at him. “Keep going.”

“Okay, let me know if something hurts” He said, you knew he was always scared of not knowing his own strength accidentally hurting you. This conversation happened a minimum of once per every sexual interaction you two had.

"Darling... I'm not made of sugar" You reassured, caressing his head in your hands.

"You sure do taste like it" He retorted before attaching his mouth again.

His mouth was so warm creating a lovely contrast between the cold marble counter you laid on and his fingers made good work of that spongy spot inside your hole that he loved to call his best friend.

“Holy shit” You gasped, trying to bring back lost air from your lungs. “Oh fuck, yes, right there, keep going” you exclaimed as his mouth deliciously worked your clit in tandem with his fingers. That fire came back and burned bright with a vengeance.

You tried your hardest to keep your hips still, but the feeling was so overwhelming you couldn’t even control your movements.

Steve loved it when you started riding his face because he knew he was doing his job right. He was rewarded with your fluttering walls gripping onto his fingers, you dripped down his chin and coated his mouth deliciously.

“C-an you even breatmmmmm holy fuck” You cried out.

Quite honestly, he could’ve cum in his pants just from the noises you made alone. If he wasn’t so entranced by the taste of you on his tongue, and focused on making your mind think of nothing but him and his mouth he would’ve told you that he didn’t need to breathe, and that he could always catch his breath after he died of suffocation.

If that’s how he left this world, he would have gone a happy man.

“Right there, right there” You moaned out, completely unsure of how he even knew how to make you feel this good in the first place. “Just like that”

Since he was a smart man, he kept doing exactly what he was doing. His mouth continued licking and sucking as his fingers remained at the same pace.

As you panted and babbled out words and sounds that no longer made sense, he couldn’t help but to focus on the way you tightened around his fingers. You were so warm and wet his cock was twitching desperately in his pants, impatiently waiting for its own turn to please you.

Apparently, his mind ran so far away from him that he didn’t even notice the way you shuttered and bucked your hips right before your second orgasm crashed over you so hard that your legs shook and you couldn’t even squeak out a sound if you tried.

It pulled his mind right back to you, and he continued the motions with his tongue, licking up every last drop until your head lulled to the side and your body went limp.

You managed to produce a few pathetic whimpers as he continued going, it was becoming a little too sensitive to bare so grabbed his face and pulled him up. “Okay, okay, holy shit”

“Wanna taste?” He asked before hungrily attaching your lips.

It was intoxicating what he did to you. Your body felt limp and spent as if you could sleep for two weeks without a single care, yet when he attached his soggy face to yours and the taste of buttercream was replaced with your own essence, you found the energy to sit yourself up and kiss him until you were the one suffocating.

You reached for the band of his sweatpants, and he was two steps ahead of you trying to kick them off without having to remove his grip on your body.

Pulling them down for him, he was able to step out of them while keeping his mind and body focused on making out with you. You did the same with his boxers, and when his dick sprang free all you wanted was to take it into you hands.

It was his turn to gasp as you reached between your bodies to stroke him. He was hard as a rock, already twitching and leaking out in anticipation.

Just looking at it had you gushing all over again, completely unable to grasp how you could possibly be the one making him so pathetically hard without a single touch.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He questioned, taking himself into his own hand and pumping while you spread your legs in anticipation.

You nodded and gulped down a mouthful of drool, just wishing he would let you taste it but you knew that wouldn’t slide in this very moment. “Please, let me feel you.” Your arms found their way around his neck.

“You sure?” He checked in one last time just to make sure.

“Are you going to make me do it myself?” You asked desperately, only moments away from sticking it in for him.

“I’m all yours” He told you before stepping towards you one last time to close any distance, then slowly slid in the tip.

Watching your face warp with pleasure was the most beautiful sight and it gave him the butterflies every single time. As he kept slowly pushing his length into you, it felt better than a physical connection. It was always more than that.

It felt like intertwining your souls, becoming one being together. And when he was fully sheathed, he never failed to be incredibly loved by you. You gave him so much of yourself, so much of your body, so much of your trust that he felt a responsibility to do the only thing he could- make you feel just as loved in return.

No matter how hard he had to fight the urge to move, he always waited until you moved first. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth parted as you gave him the physical green light to start rocking his hips.

He started slow until he could feel your body relax around him, then he thrusted faster. “There you go, you’re taking me so well Honey”

You felt absolutely ethereal, letting go of every single thought that wasn’t Steve in that very moment.

As he continued to thrust into you, he laid you back util you were fully laying on the counter with your legs crossed around his back. He leaned over you and cradled his hands under your head to hold you close and make sure you were comfortable.

He kissed you passionately, sweeter than sugar as your hand roamed his back and the other squeezed the back of his neck.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he found that sweet spot inside of you once more, and your mind went completely numb. He detached your lips but kept his face close to maintain eye contact.

“You’re absolutely decadent, my sweet Angel” he panted, and although his thrusts were slower than his normal pace, it felt overwhelmingly good. He was conveying his message perfectly, this was nothing but making love. “Nobody could ever make me feel the way you do, you know that?”

He continued hitting your sweet spot over and over again, making your eyes squeeze shut and your waist curve up off the counter.

“Open your eyes, sweetie, let me see your face”

You listened to his words, and he smiled when he saw your eyes again. His face was full of pleasure, and the thought of him feeling just as good as you were made your walls squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy shit, baby.” His head dropped into the crook of your neck as he savored your warmth, but it quickly popped back up again to look at you. “I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too” You moaned, running your fingers through his messy hair.

His thrusts turned into deep, long strokes that had you seeing stars.

“Oh my god, oh my- jesus” you gasped, fluttering around him.

“You feel so fucking good” he cried out. “Only you. You are the only one who could ever make me feel like this. Do you understand how incredible you are?”

You whimpered some more, holding onto him for dear life, “Steve-“

“I know, baby.” He kissed you, and when he attached his lips to your mouth he felt you fluttering even more.

So, he kept kissing you and trying to hang onto the pressure building in his own stomach as his balls twitched with every thrust.

You two stayed like that for a while, holding each other in your arms, kissing until you couldn’t breath, basking in the pleasure of each others bodies while he tried to fuck the very concept of your own greatness into your hard head.

Nothing but the sounds of moans, breathing, and skin slapping filled the room while you opened your eyes and looked up at him again.

Your heart skipped a beat or two as the realization of what he’s been trying to tell you finally sank in. Tears filled your eyes as you really looked at his sweet face, and his love clouded all of your senses.

You looked deeply into his blue eyes that held nothing but admiration for you, they were turned slightly upwards, desperate to make sure you understood the gravity of his true feelings. He touched your body in all the right places to make you feel all the right things, but at the same time he touched your heart and connected your souls. You could hear verbal affirmation of your effects on him. Heavy breathing, heavenly moans, and constant declarations of love. He genuinely meant and believed in every single one of them. The smell of his fresh cologne and your bodies mingling filled your nose, with the occasional whiff of vanilla cupcakes. But you were okay with that, vanilla always reminded you of him. When you tasted the product of your sacred love on his lips, it all seemed to make sense. You loved him, and he loved you back.

It really was that pure. It really was that simple.

So when there was physical evidence that you finally understood his point, and you made love to him so decadently, the efforts of his love washed over you once again.

A big physical release, along with a big mental release of all the self doubt you had been harboring since the moment you met him in that hallway.

His love spilled into you as the euphoria set in your brain, and you held him as close as you could. Sitting up as his movements became still, your arms locked him in tight, and your face shoved into the crook of his neck.

He left little kisses on your shoulder as he pulled out. He could’ve been speaking words to you, but you didn’t hear them. All you cared about was soaking in this moment.

Especially when he picked you up in his strong arms and you wrapped around him like a koala. He brought you into his room and got the two of you snuggled up in his bed for maximum comfort.

He could always clean the two of you up later, and the clothes on the kitchen floor weren’t going to run away if he didn’t immediately retrieve them, but right now was a moment that needed to be savored.

The two of you caught your breath together amongst the soft blankets against your bare skin.

Your arms squeezed him nice and tight before your body went limp against him. Snuggled up to his side with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled, your hand on his chest and his hand playing with your hair.

You intertwined your free hands, they rested comfortably on his stomach and your eyes focused on the matching friendship bracelets that have seen better days.

With no one around, and nothing but a head massage to occupy your mind, you finally felt like you knew where you belonged.

It was a place where you didn’t have to change yourself as a defense mechanism like a chameleon.

You didn’t have to put yourself under so much pressure that you shifted into something completely different like carbon into a diamond.

You didn’t need to save the world and all the people in it to prove your worth.

You were already worthy.

You belonged with Steve.

“I love you” You told him sleepily and spent.

“I love you too” You mumbled back, kissing the top of your head.

He smiled knowing that this time, you genuinely believed him.

#steve rogers #captain america #captain america fluff #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #chris evans #mcu x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fluff #senses of steve #five senses #taste #smut #marvel series #marvel smut #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #marvel #marvel x reader

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

the link to the masterlist is here picking up right where we left off. hope you love <3

09. Up for A Vote

Freddie drew in a deep breath, thinking hard about where to start. She hadn’t spoken about Daniel like this since she’d first met Millie and Jem. Hadn’t had to, and especially hadn’t wanted to.

“I met Daniel when I was fourteen,” she began, fixing her eyes on the control panel in front of her. “I was born in Oxford, see, but my family moved to Vienna when I was two because my father got a job at the university. But, eventually, he got another job at Oxford University again, so we moved right back, to the same house we’d lived in before. But there was a new family living next door by now. It had been twelve years since we’d left.”

She smiled ruefully, continuing, “I met Daniel when his mother made him knock on the door with flowers for my mother. I remember they were tulips, a pale shade of yellow. They were beautiful. So was he, by the way.”

Here, Rosie laughed quietly to himself but didn’t make to interrupt.

“Anyway, we fell in love very quickly, even though we were fourteen and fifteen at the time. He was my boyfriend within a month and we stayed that way, never once ever thought about looking elsewhere. When the war broke out for us back in ‘39, when I was nineteen and he was twenty, he enlisted immediately. He joined the RAF because his father had been a pilot. They trained him as a fighter pilot and he got assigned to flying Hurricanes - he was good at it, too. Survived the Battle of Britain, when they were sending fighters up constantly. He would be dogfighting three times a day, sometimes, for hours at a time. He’d get two hours of sleep most nights. The Luftwaffe threw everything at them. But Daniel, he - he was just so good at what he did. Always did it smiling, too. Always found it hard to complain. He told me that he could never bring himself to mind when he’d get called out once again, even if it was the middle of the night and he’d only just fallen asleep, because he knew with every German fighter he took down he was making the world safer for me. Said he didn’t want us to have to raise children in a Britain where everyone was speaking German.”

Freddie laughed quietly, swiping away the tears which had gathered under her eyes. “He hated that I can speak German, by the way. He used to hate it when I spoke it to him. He couldn’t understand me, of course, so I’d call him all manner of sweet names and tell him I loved him in all these poetic ways and he’d demand that I stop so insistently it’s like he thought I was cursing him.

“Anyway,” she went on with a shake of her head, “I followed him to war, obviously. Well, as much as I could. I asked him how I could get myself closest to him and he told me mine would be the last voice he heard before a mission and the first voice after if I became a wireless operator, so that’s what I did. That’s why I lied and said I couldn’t speak German when I enlisted - so that I’d get to talk to him, look after him in my own small way. He put in a good word for me with one of the RAF higher-ups and got me assigned to the same base as him.”

Her smile faded as she realised she would have to speak the part of the story she hated, the part which brought it to its end. She tipped her head back to rest against the seat and shut her eyes. “He went down on a Monday in March 1941. The 10th. Shot down by a Messerschmitt. His plane went down in flames and crashed not far from the airfield. He’d been so close to home. 

“I was working at the time, guiding some of the others through the landing. I remember thinking they sounded strange over the radio but I figured it must just have been a particularly bad mission. I always thought I would know immediately if Daniel had gone down, would just feel it or something, I don’t know, but I hadn’t. And then after interrogation and everything his squadron leader came to find me, took me to a private office, and told me what had happened.”

Freddie was breathing heavily, trying to speak around her tears. Two and a half years later and it still ached as if it had happened yesterday.

“I didn’t believe him at first, of course, but the other fighters in the squadron had all seen it. They sat with me for hours, assuring me over and over again that they weren’t mistaken, that he was gone, and that he wasn’t coming back, because I kept insisting that he might have survived and they needed to look for him.

“But,” she continued, “he hadn’t. So they gave me his footlocker and the responsibility of seeing to it that his belongings went where they were supposed to go. I kept a few things, of course, gave a few things to his closest friends, then sent the rest to his parents. I visit them every time I go home and they always welcome me like a daughter but I find it -” She had to pause to breathe heavily, choking on her own words. “I find it so hard to look at them now. His mum, she - she has his smile.”

Freddie had her eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep in the tears even as they fought to free themselves from behind her eyelids. In spite of her best efforts they came stumbling down her cheeks anyway, the taste salty in her mouth, the wetness cold on her skin. Her eyes were starting to itch because of them, the back of her throat starting to taste strange.

“Oh, Fred,” Rosie said quietly, watching her fighting to get herself under control. Gone was the playful, vibrant girl from merely minutes earlier who’d pretended to shoot down the Luftwaffe’s finest. As much as he missed that version of her, longed to make her smile again, he couldn’t help wanting to scoop up this version of her and cradle her to his chest, whisper about all the good things in the world until she remembered she was the best of them.

Rosie’s soft words, his sympathy, made her sob. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the tears away, and started apologising for how she’d thoroughly collapsed in on herself when her descriptions of Daniel had been intended to be happy. 

But Rosie only hushed her softly. He reached for her, curled one arm beneath her knees and the other around her waist and lifted her into his lap.

Freddie curled into him immediately, instinctively. She couldn’t find it within herself to be ashamed of how she was seeking comfort in another man while crying over her lost love. She tucked her head beneath his chin, held on tight to his shirt, buried her face into his neck and tried to drink in the smell of him, the warmth of him, the feeling of him - secure, reliable, safe. Alive.

“You can’t ever go down, Rosie,” she started saying, her voice wet and thick with tears. “You always have to come back. Always. Do you hear me?”

“Always,” Rosie assured her, tightening his arms around her, bringing her closer into his chest. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Fred. I promise.”

“I take promises very seriously, Rosie,” she told him, sniffling. 

He smiled in spite of himself. “Me too.”

“You can’t break it,” she insisted. “You have to keep coming back. Every time. You have to.”

“I will,” he assured her, soft and sincere. “I’ll keep on comin’ back, sweetheart. You’ll get sick of hearing my voice on your radio.”

Finally, mercifully, she giggled. It was wet and weepy but it was enough. “I won’t,” she disagreed. “I like hearing your serious pilot’s voice over the radio.”

Rosie grinned, tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You making fun of me, Fred?”

He could feel her smiling against his neck. “Absolutely.” Her tears were slowing now, as was her breath. He could feel her breathing deeper and yet her tight grip on him never faltered.

They lapsed into silence as she calmed down. He listened avidly to her breathing. “You want me to take you back to your bunk?” he asked after a while.

Freddie inhaled deeply. “I just want to sit here for a little while longer,” she confessed, shifting just slightly closer.

She worried, momentarily, that Rosie would think her clingy, demanding he let her stay in his lap when he’d only given it to her out of kindness. But all he did was keep on holding her, resting his cheek on her head. Slowly, he began running one gentle hand up and down her back, over and over again in a steady rhythm, until, eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

Freddie woke up in her bunk in the pitch darkness with a sick feeling brewing in her stomach. The whiskey, she knew. All around her were the sounds of breathing, the hut now full of wireless operators shifting and sighing softly in their sleep.

Meatball shifted briefly at the foot of Freddie’s bed, smacked his lips, and then settled. Freddie laid still.

“Mils?” she whispered into the dark. She’d woken facing Millie’s bed and hazarded a guess that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Yeah?” Millie whispered back after a beat.

“How are you feeling?”

Millie shifted in bed, presumably rolling onto her side to face Freddie, and hummed. “Drunk,” she said. “Jem stole another bottle anyway.”

“Did she get away with it?”

“Of course she did,” Millie replied. “They had fewer people working the bar because hardly anyone was in there. She got behind the bar under the guise of getting me a glass of water to sober me up and slipped straight out. No one saw the bottle tucked under her arm, I’m sure, but even if they did, no one asked.”

“What did you do while I was gone?”

“Talk,” Millie said. She yawned. “Had a pillow fight. Played with Meatball for a bit and then took him out to go to the toilet. Then came back in to go to bed.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Millie scoffed softly. “Not as much fun as you were having, I’m sure.”

Freddie groaned. “What did he tell you?” She’d hoped Rosie would have dropped her off with few words to share about their time together.

“Oh, you know,” Millie said airily. “Just that you’re the best dogfighter he’s ever seen.”

Freddie groaned once more. She lifted her head off of her pillow just to slam it down over her ears, lest she be reminded of her idiotic drunken actions.

Millie was laughing when she removed the pillow. “Don’t worry,” she said around her quiet giggles, “he thought it was cute.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” Freddie despaired into the darkness.

Millie kept on laughing. “He’s smitten with you, Fred,” she assured her. “I can tell. I don’t think there’s anything you could do now that would change that. If anything, your little performance tonight has just made him like you more.”

“I’m still embarrassed,” Freddie told her.

Freddie couldn’t see it but Millie was grinning. “I’m sure you are. But I wouldn’t worry too much. He set you down on your bed and tucked you in like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He was so gentle with you, so clearly enchanted. He had stars in his eyes, to tell you the truth.”

Freddie smiled to herself, turned her face into her pillow as though to conceal her blush even though Millie couldn’t see it in the darkness. She thought back on her time with Rosie, on the emotional rollercoaster that it had been, and sighed before venturing, “I told him about Daniel.”

“You did?” Millie sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” Freddie confirmed. “I’d only intended to talk about what he was like, really, but I ended up telling Rosie the whole story. Started crying and everything. Inconsolable, I was.”

Against her will, Millie laughed.

“But I think I feel better now,” Freddie continued. “I’ve not been fair to him, really, being so hot and cold. At least now he knows why.”

“You probably needed a good cry, I reckon,” Millie observed. “Especially into Rosie’s arms,” she added as an afterthought. Freddie could just imagine her smirking.

Freddie laughed softly to herself. “I won’t disagree.”

They lapsed into silence, both thinking hard on different things. Freddie suspected Millie might have finally fallen asleep before she spoke up softly once more, less certain and less jovial than she’d been before. “He’s looking after you, isn’t he?” she asked. “Rosie?”

Freddie smiled quietly. “He is,” she assured her. 

“Good,” Millie decided.

Freddie wasn’t sure at which point they both fell asleep. It seemed like one minute they’d been talking and the next they were waking up, groggy and nauseous and groaning about banging headaches.

For all of their complaining, however, it was clear that no one felt worse than Jem. Her head was down the toilet before they’d even woken up and there it stayed for the better part of the morning until she felt brave enough to follow them to breakfast. Mercifully, she’d been too drunk last night to even consider changing out of her dishevelled uniform, so she traipsed behind the group as she was.

The table of wireless operators had clearly seen better days. Freddie was shivering even while she sat wrapped in her blanket, Millie had her hands over her eyes and was complaining to anyone who would listen that it was too bright inside the mess hall, and Jem’s head was on the table. She would have face planted into her porridge had Paddy not swiped the bowl away at the last second.

“How much did you lot drink last night, anyway?” Amy asked, amused, around a sip of coffee. She and the other girls who had spent their night in the officers’ club weren’t looking too sprightly either, but they didn’t look quite as half-dead as Freddie, Millie, and Jem. They’d drunk a lot but not two entire bottles of whiskey’s worth, as in Freddie’s case, or three in Millie and Jem’s.

“Too much,” Freddie mumbled, clutching her blanket tighter. Her teeth were chattering and she couldn’t even begin to stomach the thought of food right now. Even the sight of it was making her feel queasy. 

“Not enough,” Millie disagreed, groaning and pressing her forehead to Freddie’s blanket-clad shoulder.

She’d wanted to drink away the reality of Brady being gone, Freddie knew, had wanted to drink so much that when she woke up she could believe he was back. But she couldn’t and he wasn’t. MIA or POW, Freddie wasn’t sure, she just prayed he wasn’t dead.

“Look alive, Fred,” Paddy said suddenly, though she didn’t look much better herself. “Rosie’s Riveters are coming over.”

Freddie lifted her blanket and covered her face, then rested her forehead on the table the same as Jem had. She’d embarrassed herself enough in front of Rosie last night, he didn’t need to see her pale and sickly as she fought the demons of the morning after as well.

“Ladies,” Pappy greeted as they neared. Rosie and his crew took seats at the empty table beside them, echoing their own greetings as they did.

“You okay, Fred?” Rosie asked, an amused smile in his voice. She could tell he had taken up the seat behind her from the closeness of his voice, wondered if he’d had to shoo anyone away for it or if they’d all just known to let their fearless leader take it.

“No,” she replied, her voice muffled from where she was speaking into both the blanket and the table. 

“You should eat something,” he told her, obviously noticing the untouched breakfast she’d pushed away from herself the second she’d sat down. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better,” she objected.

Rosie laughed and leaned forward until he could rest his hand on her back, heedless of the eyes of the rest of her table - except Jem, of course - on him. “Come on,” he encouraged her, dragging the bowl back towards her. “Just a little.”

“No.”

“For me?”

“No.”

“Ouch.” He knew his grin was so wide he was giving himself away to all of her friends - not to mention his crew, who were sure to tease him relentlessly about this later - but couldn’t seem to hide it. 

“Fred’s got a weak stomach,” Millie explained, swaying slightly as she tried to sit up straight and face Rosie. “She throws up when she’s anxious, when she’s overwhelmed, sometimes when she’s sad, and of course when she’s hungover. So you’d be better off not loading her up with ammunition, Rosie, if you want to know the truth.”

Freddie was sure she’d never been this embarrassed in her whole life. The problem was she couldn’t even deny it because it was completely true. She’d been the same ever since she was little, had apparently inherited it from her father.

“Mils,” Freddie complained all the same. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s the god’s honest truth, Fred, and you know it,” Millie countered. Freddie could hear the other girls giggling.

“Tell me you’re not thinking of liquidating your assets right now, Freddie, please,” Pappy all but begged. 

“Go away,” Freddie grumbled.

“Our old squadron officer used to call her ‘Prime Minister’,” Jem said, audibly grinning even though her face was still pressed to the tablecloth. “Because she’s always bringing it up for a vote.”

“Fighting words from someone who spent the morning with her head down the toilet,” Freddie retorted, finally sitting up. She let the blanket slip off of her head and pool around her shoulders, rubbing at her eyes and covering her mouth as she yawned.

“Leroy!” barked Squadron Officer Jones as she came stomping into the mess hall.

“Fuck’s sake,” Millie muttered, turning back to their table.

Freddie shrank into her blanket, pretending she hadn’t heard Jones’ call of her last name.

Jones wasn’t fooled. “Section Officer Leroy!” she snapped, marching up to their table.

Freddie sighed but didn’t look at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Congratulations,” Jones said dryly, clearly insincerely, “you’ve been promoted. To Flight Officer. Your reassignment training starts today at 1400. Your new CO will pick you up outside your hut. Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Freddie replied. Her heart had dropped.

“Get excited,” Jones said coldly. “You and I never have to work together again.”

“Lucky bitch,” Millie muttered.

Behind them, Pappy snorted.

Jones slapped Freddie’s new insignia down on the table, turned on her heel, and left.

Freddie watched her go, waited until she had left the mess hall, and then she mumbled, “Fuck.”

#my writing #watm #mota #masters of the air #hbo war #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #hbo war x oc #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal fanfic #rosie rosenthal fanfiction

[dag-hammarskjold]

Death, Sacrifice, and Suicide: Markings and Dag Hammarskjold (Part 1: 1925-1949)

(Warning: mentions of suicide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to the topic)

Introduction

These three themes are present Markings even before his mandate as Secretary-General, and permeate the work after. Biographies such as the one by Lipsey and the foreword of Markings written by Auden mention him being tempted by suicide and his passive suicidality by way of being reckless with his own safety.

[To briefly clarify “passive suicidality” as is referred and will be referred to, it is a sentiment that 1) considers the death of himself, 2) while not displaying active desire to see death out, expresses death as some sort of “fulfillment”, “release”, or natural result of his “duty”, and 3) expresses a resignation or even willingness to met his own death, whenever that may be.]

Death is a topic I want to discuss with regards to Dag Hammarskjöld and Markings, as death, sacrifice, and his suicidality are so intricately linked within Markings that one could not help but interpret his death as a tragic, but almost morbidly poetic end to his life and career. Thus, I want to create a compilation post that serves as a reference for all the individual instances where death is considered in Markings.

Within Markings, many entries explore either his own death, or someone else’s. Not all will meet the criteria for passive suicidality, but will be included to help illustrate his frame of mind when it comes to death.

Lastly, since Markings does have a strong literary element, it is possible that some entries may be interpreted differently by different people. The inclusion of entries in this post represents the interpretation of this author only.

(Warning: below contains graphic descriptions of suicide)

1925-1930 (Age: 19-25)

Smiling, sincere, incorruptible— His body disciplined and limber. A man who had become what he could, And was what he was— Ready at any moment to gather everything Into one simple sacrifice.

This passage has been speculated to have been added to Markings at a later date.

While not directly related to suicide, this is very typical of how sacrifice is described in later entries, with a sense of inevitability and an abstract modernist aesthetic, reminiscent of the art styles he has been known to like.

Tomorrow we shall meet, Death and I— And he shall thrust his sword Into one who is wide awake. But in the meantime how grievous the memory Of hours frittered away.

Life only demands from you the strength you possess. Only one feat is possible — not to have run away.

I think most mentions of Hammarskjöld’s attitude towards suicide do not mention this entry. To not run away from life — has he already been contemplating suicide this early on? Or does it simply refer to not running away from the demands of life, within life?

1941-1942 (Age: 35-37)

There is only one path out of the steamy dense jungle where the battle is fought over glory and power and advantage — one escape from the snares and obstacles you yourself have set up. And that is — to accept death.

This is not necessarily indicative of suicidality, but in my experience, simply talking about accepting death at a younger age in a (modern) western background has gotten me weird looks. I am personally far removed from the average person’s perception of death, but I imagine most people do not contemplate death as much.

1945-1949 (Age: 39-44)

Before it became clear to us what had happened, he was already too far out. We could do nothing. We only saw how the undertow was dragging him faster and faster away from the shore. Saw his futile and exhausting struggle to touch the bottom beneath his feet. (…)

(…) She walked to the end of the esplanade, and then waded out through the mud until the water was deep enough and the current swept her away. But she did not sink. The water pushed her back. Again and again, until her strength was exhausted, she opened her mouth and thrust her face under the surface. This time it must not fail. She heard cries from the bank. If they would… During their attempts at artificial respiration, they have laid bare the upper part of her body. As she lies stretched out on the riverbank — beyond all human nakedness in the inaccessible solitude of death — her white firm breasts are lifted to the sunlight — a heroic torso of marble-blonde stone in the soft grass.

When the gun went off, he fell on his side beneath the maple trees. (…) Why —? Above the spreading pool of blood no questions reach the land you have sought. And no words can any longer call you back. — That eternal “Beyond” — where you are separated from us by a death chosen long before the bullet hit the temple.

Descending into the valley, at the last curve he lost control of the car. As it toppled over the bank at the side of the road, his only thought was: “Well, at least my job’s done.” His one, weary, happy thought. It wasn’t so: he was to go on living. But not to go on with journey. When he came to, the solid world again took shape around him, he could hardly keep back his tears — tears of self-pity and disappointment because his vacation plans had been ruined. (…)

This section within Markings is unusual in that it strays from the usual poem or short paragraph of thought, instead it is a sequence of short-story-like scenes.

Between the descriptions of death and suicide (that he was presumed to have witnessed by his biographers), were descriptions of a dreary, daily life: a man losing interest in his work for he believed he was no longer free, a man aimlessly drifting in the streets, only seeing his own meanness on the faces of others, an epitaph being given to a woman, and a man who, while attending to his work, got into conflict with everyone around him.

They, while mildly out of order, likely correlate to the suicides depicted. The man who believed himself no longer free let himself be dragged out to sea; the man who could only see his own meanness as if in Dante’s hell put a bullet in his head; the epitaph was about the woman who drowned, and later her daughter; the man who survived the car crash became impossible to deal with.

Beyond the idea of death, where many had already previously interpreted the scenes of suicide to be exploring, perhaps the entries between the depictions of death were just as important as explorations of life. The first two contemplates what leads someone to suicide, and the latter two what happens afterwards.

Perhaps they were the thoughts that Hammarskjold had been contemplating: to believe oneself to not be free, to wander lethargically and not have taken a risk to “reach perfection”, to finally succeed and have someone else follow, or to fail and find living more difficult.

More to be discussed in part 2.

#dag hammarskjold #markings #tw suicide

[lickthecowhappy]

Playlist Analysis: #4 - A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

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#4. A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square – Vera Lynn

Both.

Overview: 

An obvious choice for this playlist. This is my 1941 song. I chose the Vera Lynn version because I just love her style (and I think it has to be the one they heard first), but the Tori Amos version is great as well. If you like it better or prefer it because it’s the one used in the show, please feel free to swap it out if you’re listening to the playlist. 

This is their song. First published in 1940, it’s a beautiful song about meeting someone, falling head over heels, spending the night together, and dancing home the next morning. I think that up until Crowley said those immortal words, the audience thought that it was their song on a meta level. The book and season 1 both mention it from a third person point of view with no acknowledgement or reference from the characters. But now we know that it was something the two of them found important together. Did something else happen in 1941? (Chomping at the bit for 1941 part 3!) We know something changed their dynamic between 1941 and 1967. We know Aziraphale did the apology dance in 1941. Maybe this is why Aziraphale specifically suggested they dine at the Ritz someday after giving Crowley the holy water. Why would Crowley have said “No nightingales” if it wasn’t something significant between them? Aziraphale’s wounded reaction to those words confirms its significance. The fact is, Crowley weaponized this song in a riposte to Aziraphale’s reactionary petulance. 

Lastly, why was it playing in the Bentley after Aziraphale left? We know the Bentley has been fundamentally changed. It’s no longer Crowley’s car, it’s “Our Car.” I think I remember seeing a quote from Neil along the lines of, “The Bentley would have followed Aziraphale anywhere.” Who was it channeling to play that song? I’ve seen people speculate that Crowley queued it up for their drive to the Ritz, but I don’t buy that. Maybe it was a way of Aziraphale communicating that his heart still sings despite the regrettable things they both said and did. Or maybe it was Crowley’s heart betraying itself – an admission that there is a guarantee that he’ll still be waiting when Aziraphale is ready. Or maybe it’s just the writer wanting to hurt us even more. 

Lyrics: 

That certain night, the night we met There was magic abroad in the air There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

This wasn’t the night they first literally met, but maybe it was the first time they met in a figurative sense: being in the same place emotionally at the same time.

Neil has said that they dine at the Ritz because it was in reference to this song. In the book and season 1, maybe that’s all there was to it. One last clue for anyone who missed all the other indications that their relationship isn’t just platonic. But in season 2, we get the magic show. There was no literal magic in the air because Furfur blocked it, instead all the magic present was of the human variety. Romantic AF. 

I may be right, I may be wrong But I’m perfectly willing to swear That when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

This sets me up to assume that nothing was spoken in 1941. Nobody confirmed any feelings out loud, due either to the threat they had just confirmed they were under or the habit they were already in, but they both understood how the other felt. "That's what... friends... do." That feeling where you just know the other person feels the same, but can't bring yourself to say it. The willingness to swear an oath that whatever was unspoken by the parties involved was mutual. Maybe sung about by a third party somewhere (The writer? The audience? God?).

The moon that lingered over London Town Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown How could he know we two were so in love The whole darn world seemed upside down

[Please note that this verse is not present in the Tori Amos version]

Up to this point in the lyrics, the interactions between the characters in the song are meeting and looking. No contact, not even words as far as we know. These two have been trying to keep their fraternization a secret for millennia, after all. Anyone watching couldn’t hear the song being shared by the two hearts, but the two hearts sing anyway. A silent, beautiful, and disorienting duet. 

The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And as we kissed and said goodnight A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

The elation of intense romantic feelings has been described poetically since romance was invented (invented by these two, IMO). The description of streets being paved with stars evokes images of fantasy, dreams, vastness, wonder, possibility. It’s romance in a nutshell. Not to mention evoking the Starmaker, himself. I don’t assume that they kissed in 1941, but at the end of the 1941 segment we get in season 2, everything is so gentle and romantic it doesn’t even need a kiss. A figurative act of intimacy, the bullet catch, was observed by someone who could destroy their "de-facto partnership," thus ending their night of magic.

As dawn came stealing up all gold and blue To interrupt our rendezvous I still remember how you smiled and said “Was that a dream or was it true?”

[Please note that this verse is not present in the Tori Amos version]

What fan doesn’t want to live in the 1941 sequence? The assumption that they hadn’t seen each other since 1862, Crowley showing up out of nowhere and at great personal discomfort to save Aziraphale, a little demonic miracle of his own, the way Aziraphale gazes at him the entire sequence, and Crowley’s unconditional support through the entire thing, despite his obvious concerns. What happened that we didn’t see? Just how long did they spend together? What might have happened if Furfur didn’t show up? And what happened afterward? Their rendezvous was interrupted. They had let their guard down and were reminded of the very real danger they face by getting too close.

Our homeward step was just as light As the tapdancing feet of Astaire And like an echo far away A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

[Please note that this verse is not present in the Tori Amos version]

This verse, in this context, has two meanings for me. The intended meaning of the lyrics, implying that the parties involved are still high on the emotions of the evening and are lightly and merrily dancing home as Fred Astaire might. But also a much more tragic meaning. Another time one might be described as having light footsteps is when sneaking around. After being caught, despite knowing the proof had been pilfered, they may have redoubled their efforts to appear as enemies. They realize they still have to sneak around to have any time together. That beautiful nightingale’s song is sadly now only an echo in the distance. 

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#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #music analysis #brain rot #i spent a normal amount of time on this #therapy for good omens 2 #ineffible husbands #ineffible divorce #good omens meta #good omens s2

[spectaculardistractions]

To Carlos Fuentes

Paris, 3 March 1974

My dear Carlos, My 74 years thank you for your birthday wishes, and for my part I also accept them with a sad smile of farewell.

I see your migration issues are completely resolved and wonder if Don Luis E. had something to do with that. Mine are in the process of being sorted out by Mr Moskovitz, Saltzman and Silberman’s lawyer in New York. It turns out the State Department had a pretty sizable file on me.* I may get an ordinary visa this month without the famous Exemption 28 C d, etc. If so, I’ll go to New York in June via Mexico, and will descend upon your home in Virigina to have fun with all the zorras that, according to you, surround you on all sides.

And you, still working on your book! I now see you have more trouble writing a novel than I do writing a letter! I’m waiting impatiently for you to get to the final full stop.

There are 70 actors in this film The Phantom of Liberty, all with very small parts. When you see it, you’ll realize why it just wasn’t possible to get María Casares in.

I’m happy to try and help García Riera in any way I can. You just have to let me know how. Television and advertising horrify me, although I am grateful for your new attempt to take up your cudgels ‘on my behalf’. I really don’t think I deserve so much of your attention. I’m embarrassed.

I’ve been filming for four weeks now with a good few more to go. This Phantom of Liberty may be more popular than the one about the bourgeoisie. But I don’t want to get my hopes up.

Have you read the monstrous book Comment devenir Dalí? Unbelievable!

Kisses for Silvia and the baby and, what the hell, kisses for you too! Luis

*Ninety-two-page FBI file on LB’s activities from 1941 to 1971.

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

#jo evans #breixo viejo #luis bunuel: a life in letters #luis bunuel #carlos fuentes

[slutforbuck]

Traveling Soldier -- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

*1941*

“What do you mean you’re enlisting? You can’t leave me here.” You stared at Steve and Bucky with wide eyes. “Y/n it’s our duty to this country to go,” Steve started to reassure you that everything would be fine. “We won’t be gone that long, you will probably even enjoy the peace for a while.” Bucky smiled at you and gave you a small wink. “Eleven years. Eleven years we have been attached at the hip, and now you’re going to leave me here. Alone.” Tears began to well up in your eyes as you stared at them. Steve looked down, unsure how to handle you crying. Bucky wrapped you up in a hug, “I promise everything will be fine. Nothing is going to happen to us doll.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes, “We will write every chance we get. I promise.” One tear broke free and slid down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, not wanting the boys to feel any worse. Steve turned to you, “I love you y/n. I promise I’ll write, and we will be home soon. Take care of the house.” Your brother gave you a quick peck on the cheek before walking to the door. “I’ll meet you outside Buck. Goodbye y/n, wish me luck.” With a huge goofy smile and a wink, your brother closed the door. Bucky looked down at you. “I know it’s hard, but I promise we will be fine.” You couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore, and they began streaming down your face. You started to speak, but then realized that the words wouldn't come out. Bucky pulled you in for another hug, and softly kissed the top of your head. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that right? But I have to do this. I’ll write you as soon as I can, I swear.” You looked up at the tall man, “You come back in one piece James.” He looked down at your teary eyes and placed a soft, quick kiss on your lips. “I promise.” He smiled at you, then walked to the door. You stood there, fingers to your lips where his had been, “You aren't going to say goodbye?” Bucky turned and gave a small smile as he opened the door, “Goodbye is too final. I’m coming back.”

You sat down in your rocking chair in the corner, fingers still to your lips. He kissed you. James Buchanan Barnes kissed you. He was a sweet man, you’re sure he didn't mean anything by it.

A few hours pass, and you are cooking supper in the kitchen when you hear the front door open. You grab a nearby knife and slowly walk towards the door. As you raise your arms with the knife, Steve yells for you to stop. “You could kill someone like that!” “Steve?” You looked at him confused. “Why are you home? You were supposed to be enlisting. What happened?” Steve looked down at his shoes. “I was rejected. Too many health issues they said. I’m trying again. I’ll just keep changing my city and going to every enlistment center until they accept me.” Rolling your eyes, you looked behind him, hoping to see the tall, dark haired man that was almost always with him. “Where is—,” Before you could even finish your thought, he looked at you. “He was accepted. He told me to tell you that he would write you as soon as he could.” You sighed and walked back to the kitchen to finish supper.

While Steve was off trying to be accepted, you managed to get a job with Howard Stark as a lab assistant. Most of your job was running files to different people, and helping Mr. Stark record information during his experiments. Letters from Bucky began coming in after a few weeks, and it helped improve your mood.

*1943*

“Stark Expo! We will showcase all of our latest inventions, show these people a look into the future!” You looked at Mr. Stark with a small smile, “It is a wonderful idea sir. I will begin making preparations for you.” Howard looked at you, “Make sure Mr. Erskine is there. I would like to find some candidates for Project Rebirth that night.” You nodded, “Yes sir. I will find him right away.”

“Everything is set up and ready to go Mr. Stark. Do you think that it might be possible to have the day of the Expo off sir? I would like to spend a little time with my brother.” Howard smiled softly at you, “Of course y/n, you have done an exceptional job. I will let you know how things go with Project Rebirth the day after. I am hoping that we will be very busy.” “Yes sir. I will see you then.”

The next morning as you were cooking breakfast, Steve came in. “I’m trying again. Surely they’ll accept me this time.” You paused and turned towards him, “Steve don’t you think it’s time to stop? I know how much it means to you, but this will be the fourth time you’ve tried.” He looked at you, with an almost anger in his eyes. You turned back to the stove and apologized. “I’m sorry Steve, you go ahead. If it doesn’t work out, come back here. Please?” Steve smiled, “It’s going to happen this time, I’m sure of it.”

A few hours later, Steve was back at home. “Rejected again. Who cares if I have asthma?? I just want to

do what’s right. I want to serve my country!” He sat at the table, head in his hands. “How about we go see a movie? Maybe it will cheer you up.” He looked up at you and reluctantly agreed.

A war commercial played on the screen before the movie. You began tearing up, thinking about Bucky being gone, dealing with everything the war would throw his way. Worrying that one day your brother would succeed in enlisting, and that it was possible you might one day lose both Bucky and Steve to the war. You were jerked away from your thoughts when you hear a man loudly shouting, wanting the war commercial to be over. Steve spoke up, “Hey buddy, you wanna shut up?!” The man stood up and turned, he was much larger than Steve, and you ran out the door after the two men. You watch as the man keeps hitting Steve, who is not giving up. He throws one last punch, and Steve falls to the ground. You jump in-between the men, begging them to stop. The man grabs your arm, and squeezes tightly. Before you could say anything, you hear a familiar voice. “Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and the man is ripped away from you. You slowly open your eyes to see Bucky standing in front of you. “Bucky! You didn’t say you were getting to come home!” You threw your arms around his neck, and he hugged you tightly. Steve pulled himself up off the ground. “Sometimes I think you like getting punched.” Bucky smirked at Steve as he leaned down to pick up a card from the ground. “I had him on the ropes.” You checked him over to make sure he was okay. You stood back up and looked at Bucky, who looked upset. “How many times is this? Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?” Steve looked away from his friend. “Get your orders?” Bucky straightened up and smiled, “107th. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England tomorrow.” You leaned against the wall and looked down, already feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “Come on you two,” Bucky said as he wrapped an arm around yours and your brother’s shoulders. “Where are we going?” “The future.” You internally groaned. Your one night off and you were still going to work.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow. A greater world. A better world.”

The three of you stood at the stage as you watched Howard enter. You watched as he showed off his hovering automobile. Bucky’s eyes widened, “Holy cow.” The car suddenly fell back to the ground, and you smirked, watching Howard recover. You turned to Bucky, then realized neither he nor Steve were next to you. You work your way through the crowd until you see the enlistment tent. You groan to yourself, and rush over just to hear the end of what sounded like an argument. “Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.” “You’re trying again?” You knew what was in the tent, and prayed that Dr. Erskine wouldn’t see Steve. Steve looked to you as Bucky rubbed his eyes in frustration. “I have a good feeling this time. It’s gonna happen.” You looked at him and shook your head. “Be careful Steve. If it actually happens for you, please be careful. You better write me.” You hugged your brother one last time, before Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Bucky began walking you away from the tent. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You both looked back towards him, “You’re a punk.” Bucky hugged his friend goodbye. “Jerk. Be careful.” Steve smiled then walked into the tent.

Your arms draped loosely around Bucky’s neck as you swayed to the music. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home? You just sent me a letter and didn’t even hint towards it,” you looked up at his steel blue eyes as he pulled you closer. “I wanted to surprise you. I’m only home for tonight, and honestly I was a little worried about coming to see you.” “Sergeant James Barnes, worried about something? I don’t believe it.” He smiled softly at you, “I was afraid I wouldn’t want to leave. I was right to be afraid though. I don’t want to leave you again.” You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You heard what he had said, but surely he didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to. You pulled away and began walking to find somewhere to sit down. Bucky was right on your heels, with a confused look on his face. “Y/n what did I say? What’s wrong?” As you sat down, you looked up at him with a lump in your throat and your heart in your feet. “Bucky you can’t just say stuff like that. Not now. Not to me.” Still confused, he sat next to you, “Why not? I’m not allowed to tell you that I miss you like crazy? That knowing I’m helping protect you is what is getting me through this war?” You looked at your feet, “Not when I know you feel the same about me as you do Steve. We’re friends. That’s all we have ever been, and that’s all we will ever be.” You breathed deeply in a poor attempt to stop tears from forming and spilling over. Bucky’s face softened as he realized what was happening. “You have never been just a friend to me. You’ve always been so much more to me,” he whispered to you as he lifted your face to look at your big y/e/c eyes. “I can’t go back over there without you knowing how I feel about you. You are the most amazing, beautiful woman that I have ever met y/n. You make my heart skip beats, you make me nervous. I enlisted because I felt like it was the best way to protect you from what was happening. This is the worst time to say this, I know. But I can’t leave again until I know that you know that I love you.” He looked deep into your eyes, looking to see if you felt the same. Your tears began to stream down your face, “Bucky,” you breathed deeply to steady your voice and gain a little confidence. “I knew from the moment I met you that I loved you. I have never not loved you.” Bucky smiled and pulled you close to his chest. He leaned towards you, and you met his lips with yours. Your chest felt like it was going to explode as he pressed a kiss to your lips. He finally pulled away, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Looking a little confused you reminded him that he had kissed you before he had left to enlist. “That doesn’t count. I was just testing the water. I wanted to say something so badly that day, but I lost my nerve and just couldn’t.” You smiled at him and pulled him back to dance, “Dance with me Buck.”

*later that night*

“Do you have to go?”, with tears in your eyes, you looked at Bucky. “Please don’t go. I don’t want you to leave again. What if something happens to you? Please.” Big pleading eyes filled with tears as you looked at the man in front of you. “Y/n, I have to go. You know I have to go.” You heard the pain in Bucky’s voice and he wrapped you in his arms. “I promise I will write as often as we can. I’m not leaving forever, just for a little while doll.” You felt a soft kiss press to the top of your head, and you finally let the tears in your eyes spill over. You looked up, and your eyes met Bucky’s. His eyes began to water as he looked at you, and he gave you a tight, sad smile. “I’ll write as soon as I can. I’ll be back so soon you won’t even know I’m gone. When I get back, I’ll take you back to Coney Island, and we can see how quick it takes your brother to vomit again.” He gave you a wink before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you so much, I swear I’ll come back” “Please come back in one piece Buck,” you whispered as you softly kissed his cheek. “I love you James Buchanan Barnes.” He looked at you with watery eyes and saluted before he turned and walked out your front door.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #avengers fanfiction #captain america #marvel #sebastian stan #winter soldier #fluff

[lovlydovlyjaycie]

Ævi - Frontlines

Hey again! This will be a continued series. The first Ævi series is in my masterlist and is only four parts. This is going to be a ongoing series, so there is going to be a lot more of Ævi to come. :)

Summary: Y/n or also known as Ævi has lived through varies of world events. Now it is 1941, she has excepted that some things cannot be changed so Loki has convinced Y/n to go to New York and live a normal life, a life Y/n always wanted. Or as normal it can be, because new introductions lead to events that didn’t go down in the history books.

Warnings: Fluff

Characters: Y/n, Loki, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Part 3

After the date Bucky had brought me back to my hotel. It was such an amazing night and I had so much fun. More fun than I’ve had in a very long time. I felt at ease with Bucky, I felt like I didn’t have to worry about anything when I was with him. It was ridiculous, I had only seen him three times now but yet I still felt like that. I laid down on my bed and turned to my side. On the nightstand I had a picture of me and my friend Vera. She used to live in Kattegat, but left when she turned 25. The day she left we had a picture taken together in Borgheim in Norway. The picture was made seventeen years ago already. She’s in her forties now, married and has one child, Else. Over the years Vera had sent me pictures and I could see Else looked exactly like her mom. I missed Vera, she was such a good friend, still is a good friend. Even Loki likes her, which never happens cause he dislikes everyone. Anyway, hopefully I get to see Vera soon again. I’ll write her. 

-

“I found a place in Brooklyn! We can finally leave this awful hotel now. We’ll just get some gold from Asgard and we’ll take it.” Loki said, exhausted from living in a hotel. “You know, you can’t just show up with random gold. They’re not gonna take it. We need money.” I explained to a already irritated Loki. “Well how are we going to get money?” He asked crossing his arms. “Traditionally, you work for it, but seeing I have been alive for over a thousand years and lived almost that entire time here.. I already got the money. But I wanna see the house first before buying anything. So can we drop by there?”

And Loki happily took me to the house he had seen. It was big. To be honest it was too big. I wanna be under the radar, but with a house like that, that would be impossible. The house looked fairly new, it had three floors, six bedrooms, 5,5 bathrooms, two kitchens, soooo many sitting spaces, an office, an enormous garage, a gigantic backyard. “No way Loki. There is no way I’m getting a house like that.” I was walking away from Loki already. “What? Why not? You have the money. It’s better to live luxurious than anything else, right? Love?” He said in a mocking tone. We had to pretend we were husband and wife otherwise it would raise a lot of questions why a woman and a man where looking at houses. “Well, yes I do have the money, but I also wanna keep the money.. Darlin’.” I mocked back. 

Still I was not growing any older and only until I know when I grow older I’ll be saving my money. “I was more thinking of an apartment.. In the city and not over an hour away from it.” I told him. “You can see the city from that house.” He told me. “That’s not what I mean or want.” Loki made me stop and stand in front of me. “Y/n, you’re basically a God, you deserve everything. You deserve a house that is made from gold, you deserve to bathe in it. You will never get that by staying on Midgard. You are attached to something that you had a long time ago. And you will not get that life back for at least eighty years. You know whatever is going to happen over the next eighty years you will not be able to change. So why stay at all? These people don’t deserve you.” Loki always had the same speech. These people do not deserve me. But... “I am these people. I am one of them Loki. I understand it is different for you, you are Asgardian, they are your people. Not mine. So if these people don’t deserve me and I’m not Asgardian.. Where do I belong then?” 

He was silent at that. Thinking of his next words carefully. “There are more worlds out there. You know this, you’ve been to different worlds before. We’ll go together.. Find a better one.” I gave him a sad smile. “What about Kattegat?” It is my home, I swore to protect it and it’s people for as long as I shall live.” “Kattegat is holding you back y/n. It is making you live in a time that no longer exists. What if you broke the barrier spell and let it be part of this world again? Would it honestly be so bad?” I shook my head no. “Loki I promised Bjorn. I can’t ju-...” Loki grabbed both my arms. “He has been dead for over a thousand years y/n. I know how you feel about your promises, but sometimes they need to be broken or it will break you.” He interrupted. “Whatever. I’m not buying that ugly house and I’m not gonna leave Kattegat for dead, because yes, I do take my promises seriously.” I shook him off and I walked off. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I was for sure going away from Loki.

-

I think I had been walking for over an hour. I was in the busier part of Brooklyn, but it was still relatively quiet. It was a little after noon on a Sunday, so a lot of people were probably going out for lunch now or just got done having lunch. Some cars where passing by, people where chatting. When I passed an alley I heard some rumbling. Usually I would ignore it and keep walking, but this time I decided differently. Not like I couldn’t take whatever or whoever was out there. As I came closer, I saw a tall man fighting a much smaller man. He was skinny and had blonde hair. Oh my God. Steve. “HEY!” I yelled. The tall guy was holding Steve in a choke hold. Steve looked at me with shocked eyes. His right eye looked like it was gonna bruise. It had a small cut right under his eye that looked like it was going to swell. “None of your concern lady. Keep walking.” He ordered. “Let him go!” I said as I came closer. “It’s ok y/n. I started it.” Steve said pulling on the arm that was around his neck. “And I’m gonna finish it pal.” The bigger guy said as he pushed Steve back. He made a start to try and kick Steve, but I quickly kicked him and he fell to the ground. “Wow!” Steve said. “Next time pick someone your own size.” I told him as I pulled Steve with me out of the alley.

“I have never seen an dame with such strength.” Steve said with wonder. “You’ll be amazed by how powerful women are.” I told him. We ran a block and rounded a corner in hope of losing the idiot. “Is there somewhere we can go? To maybe take care of your eye. It doesn’t look too good.” His eye was bleeding and it was starting to swell badly. “I’ll be ok. real-.” “Nonsense. Where do you live? Lets go there and have a better look.” Steve looked down. “I don’t think that is an good idea. What will people say?” I laughed at that. “Right now, Steve, I’m worried about your eye. Come on, you lead the way.” I said as I gave him a little push to start walking. 

After about five minutes we got to his apartment. It all looked rundown and it wasn’t the best neighborhood. Steve opened the door of his apartment and let me in. “Well, it isn’t much, but it’s our home.” As I walked in there was a couch to the left of me pointed to a radio. Behind the couch there was a door, I don’t know where that led, maybe a bedroom. Then at the back on the right there was a kitchen and on the left of the kitchen there were two doors, maybe more bedrooms. And lastly in the light corner by the entrance there was a book closet. It actually had quiet a few books in it. It was small. “Uhm, your eye. Do you have clean cloth? And something to sterilize the cut under your eye with?” I asked. Steve nodded and got the supplies I asked for. “Ok if you can sit down here I’ll have a look.” I said as I pointed towards the couch. We both sat down and I took a look at him. His eye was almost swollen shut and it would stay like that for a while. I had an idea to help him. Over the years I have been alive I learned a few tricks. And specifically this one trick I think is coming from the Life stone I protect. It restores or heals wounds. And with small ones like these it wouldn’t be as noticeable. I will heal it just enough that it will be slightly bruised, but it won’t be annoying. “Alright I’m going to clean your cut under your eye. You might wanna close your eyes.” I told him and he did what I asked. I put some alcohol on a cloth and lightly pressed on the cut. Steve hissed from the sting. Now was the chance. My right hand started to slightly glow with white and gold energy. I slowly brushed over Steve’s cut and it healed. The swelling went away as well. Now it only was red. At least for now it was red. He will still definitely get a black eye. The glowing energy went away from my hands. “You can open your eyes. It doesn’t look too bad anymore. You should cool it down with something and you should be fine.” Steve nodded. “Thank you.” He said as he walked over the the fridge and put some peas on his eye. I stood up and walked over to the books. 

There were quite a few books in there. “Which book is your favorite?” I asked Steve as I was reading the titles of some of the books. “Oh, most of the ones in there are Bucky’s. Mine are in my room over there.” I turned around and saw Steve point to the door behind the couch. Alright that’s Steve’s room. So one of the other two doors leads to Bucky’s room. I was curious what he kept in there. I read some more titles. ‘The Hobbit.’ Hmm, Bucky likes fantasy books. Good to know. Then there was some rattling at the door and it swung open. “Word on the street is you got into another fight, Steve! Why this time?” Bucky said upset. “Steve?” Bucky asked again. This was my time to clear my throat. Bucky turned his head towards me with big eyes. “Uh.. What- What are you doing here?” He stammered. “I got him out of that fight and took him home.” I told him as I folded my arms over my chest. “You should’ve seen her Buck!” Steve said still impressed with the situation. I’ll note that if something like that ever happens again I might not want to use all my force. “Steve, your not helping your case.” Bucky turned towards Steve. “Well why did you do it?” Bucky asked again. “This guy was treating a dame unfairly and I had ta say somethin’ about it.” Bucky dropped his head and sighed. “Then go to the police. Steve your a small kid. This time you were lucky, but next time.. Who knows.” Bucky said. “I’ll stop when there are no bullies in the street.” 

Bucky sighed again shaking his head and looked at me. “Thank you for helping him.” He said sincerely. “Really, it was no problem. Lucky I was there.” I said smiling. I was happy Steve was ok now after some help and from the looks of it Steve didn’t know what I did exactly, which is good. “Didn’t think Steve would be the one to show you our apartment.” Bucky laughed. “Oh, so you have thought about bringing me here then?” I asked in a joking tone. I could basically hear him gulp. I laughed at that. “How else was I supposed to find out what kinda books you have here?” I said as I showed him the Hobbit. “Didn’t think you were a Hobbit kinda guy.” I said smiling. “Oh these are Steve’s books.” Bucky tried to explain. I narrowed my eyes at that. “Is that so?” I asked and I heard Steve laugh. “Sorry Buck. I already told her those are yours.” Both Steve and I were laughing. And Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve and he immediately stopped laughing. “Welp, this is my que to leave.” He said as he quickly made way out of their apartment. 

“I like the Hobbit. It’s been a while since I’ve read it though.” Almost a thousand years to be exact, but couldn’t exactly tell him that. “You have?” I nodded my head at Bucky and put the book back. “Uh, would you like something to drink? Or do you have to be somewhere?” Bucky asked hopeful of the latter. “I can have something to drink. Water please.” I asked. Bucky motioned for me to sit down on the couch and got me some water. He got something for himself too and sat down next to me. “I like your apartment.” I told him. I tried to nonchalantly scooch closer to Bucky as I got my water. Being close to him felt nice, warm and safe. “You do? It’s not much.” He tried to brush off. “I like it.” I said again, followed with an awkward silence.

It was tense for both of us. I couldn’t stop staring at his chest. His breathing was heavy. He cleared his throat and went for some water himself that was on the coffee table in front of us. He took a big gulp and some water drippled down on the side of his mouth. I reached for his face without a thought and went to wipe the drop away. I lingered my right hand on his face for a moment before I put my hand back in my lap. “Sorry.” I said quietly. “Don’t-, don’t be sorry.” He said the last part quietly as well. I looked him in his eyes. In that moment we both moved closer. It was almost like something was pulling us together. He put his right hand on my hands and his left over the back of the couch. I looked at his hands, they were a little dirty. “Did you work at the fabric today?” I asked him. That made him move away from me. “Sorry. I should’ve showered.” He said noting that his clothes and hands were dirty. “You didn’t know I was here Buck. I don’t mind.” I pulled on his left hand holding it. “With a pretty dame like yourself? You’re probably used to everybody being dressed to impress.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “You don’t have to do anything to impress me, Bucky. I- I like you.” I stammered the last part. I couldn’t look him in his eyes for that. I was too embarrassed. What if he didn’t feel the same. “Hey.” He said softly. Putting his right hand on my chin. “I like you too. A lot actually. A LOT!” He said to make sure I actually heard it. I laughed at that. Slowly I inched closer to him looking in his steel blue eyes and he did the same. We were touching noses his breath was fanning over my skin. Bucky slowly rested his head on mine. Both waiting on what the next move would be. I waited for a moment before I moved closer and locked lips with him. It felt like fireworks went off, like sparks were flying, like, like love. I moved my head to the left to deepen the kiss. Bucky moved his right hand behind my neck to pull me closer. I shifted more towards him, my leg almost in his lap. He switched his hands and put his left hand on my neck and his right on my leg. I felt lightheaded. I wanted him. My heart was racing from excitement. From the movement my skirt was slowly riding up, exposing my leg more and more. I felt Bucky’s hand slowly move up on my bare leg. I put my hands on his chest to pull him closer to give him the ok to do so. I put my leg all the way over his lap riding up my skirt even more. Bucky came closer to my upper thigh. I felt myself get aroused by this moment.

Then the door swung open and Steve walked in. I couldn’t move away faster from Bucky and he from me. I quickly fixed my skirt to cover myself again. My heart was still racing from the moment. Steve looked at us, but I don’t think he noticed what just went on. “Oh, hey, I didn’t think you’d still be here.” Steve said with an awkward smile.

-

One month later

I had basically been seeing Bucky everyday since our first date. Some make out sessions here and there. We both couldn’t get enough from each other. We were becoming inseparable. Which Loki didn’t really appreciate. Loki had tried to distract me with other things, he even mentioned going back to Europe to fight. Which was very out of character for him. But nothing worked. I wanted to be with Bucky. And today I had something to give him.

“Hey Buck! I got you something.” I said as I walked in Steve and Bucky’s apartment. I gave him a quick kiss and continued walking towards Steve’s door knocking on it. “What is it?” Bucky asked a bit confused, cause I never went over to Steve’s room. “It’s a surprise for both of you.” I told him. Steve came out of his room and greeted me and asked what was going on. “Well, you have both talked about this certain game.. Where there were no tickets left for.” I put my hand in my purse and pulled three tickets out. It was for the Phillies and Dodgers. “NO WAY!” Bucky said running over to me. I gave him the ticket and he gave them one quick look. “No way!” He said again before lifting me up and spinning me around. “It’s ticket to the Phillies and Dodgers!” Bucky exclaimed. Steve looked on with big eyes. “Really?” He asked. “Yup and we gotta go now, cause the game starts in a couple of hours.” I told them.” Bucky was already getting his shoes. “How did you get them doll?” He asked. “I have my connections.” I told him. I had some connection with the guy that owned the stadium.

- 

“This was amazing y/n! Thank you!” Steve told me as we walked away from the stadium. It was a good game and both Bucky and Steve were really enjoying the whole game. It was fun to see the be so passionate about something. “Thank you sweetheart.” Bucky said as he kissed the top of my head. “I’m happy you guys enjoyed it!” I told them as Bucky put his arm around me and we headed on back towards their apartment.

We had a few drinks until Steve excused himself to go to his room. “This was such a amazing day. I cannot thank you enough, doll.” He told me again. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ve been trying to get the tickets for a while.” I leaned closer and rested my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me to pull me closer. After a moment of silence Bucky spoke. “Shoot. It’s late. Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?” He asked my hurriedly. “What if I stayed?”

...

..

.

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@darkdragonphoenix​

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[papermoonloveslucy]

MEET THE PRESS

August 3, 1969

You are clued into the frank and tough talk to come by the way Lucille Ball swipes away with her handkerchief at the flies threatening the hors d’oeuvres The kerchief almost snaps like a wet towel. 

The scene is the pool patio of her home on Beverly Hills’ Roxbury Drive and a cocktail party is in progress for visiting television editors. 

Lucy has just emerged from the main house. She wears a powder blue double-breasted slack suit and saucer-sized sun glasses. In the blazing sun her orange hair has the color intensity of hot coals. 

She has counted heads. Husband-producer Gary Morton is there. So are Desi Arnaz IV her son, and Lucy her daughter. And her TV side-kick Gale Gordon with his wife. Plus a half-dozen of her staff and CBS emissaries. There have been introductions all round to the newspaper types. It is time, she announces, to talk and she waves everybody into the big and comfortable pool house. A table has been positioned so that she can sit there presiding as she used to do at the stockholders’ meetings of the old Desilu Studios. 

Almost immediately some wag fields her the question: “Lucy do you run the show?” She flashes him that big innocent TV look of hers. A staff member jumps up “Let’s all answer that one for her” There is a resounding “YES” from family-and-cast. Everybody laughs uproariously.

Very few questions are required to prime the pump. Lucy, it seems, has some matters of personal irritation on her mind and as far as she is concerned they come tumbling out without any prodding from her would-be interrogators. 

First of all, she asks rhetorically, what’s all this business about whether she would retire? “I never said I wanted to quit or retire. There was a time when I was willing to quit but nobody asked me. Now I’ve set a date when I’ll retire” 

A lot of ears perk up Somebody asks slyly — when? She’s waiting for that. Her answer is smilingly emphatic: “When I drop dead in my tracks.” 

She turns then without anybody’s questioning to the matter of her longevity in television. This is her 18th year on the tube and it used to be talked about that she traded her popularity to CBS in return for its buying other shows produced by her company. This evokes an almost visible jet of steam out of the top of her carrot locks. “I never at any time sold any of the 20 shows our company produced on the basis of my returning each season. I’ve said that literally hundreds of times and nobody believed it.” 

She went on to make it clear that she also dislikes the “big business” image which has adhered to her over the years. “I never like to talk about big money. I make my deal and that’s all. It’s been mostly a matter of legal procedures.” 

As the star wades into these fiscal subjects your eye roams over the assemblage. Young Desi in tennis togs impassively studies the smoke curling up from a cigarette. Young Lucy clutches her hands around her knees and stares intently at her mother. Husband Gary sitting on a ledge at the back of the room swings his legs and smiles. 

There has been no mention of Desi the elder the former husband Lucy’s co-performer and co-founder of Desilu Studios (now sold). Earlier this writer had chatted briefly with young Desi. He said he saw his father off and on and spends his summers as a rule at the father’s beach home at Delmar, south of Los Angeles. 

The youngster asked if I knew his grandfather Dr. Desiderio Arnaz who lives in Coral Gables.  (1)

But back to Lucy She’s telling us how many years it took to realize that as Lucille Ball she had attained V.I.P. status.

She reviews the years she spent trying to make it in show business, first on the stage, then as a model, and finally in the movies. Much of the time she says she stagnated. Until television came along. 

“I never had any sense of importance. I was very pliable always willing to do what I was told It wasn’t until one day I saw in print somewhere some actress described as a ‘Lucille Ball type’ that I knew suddenly I was somebody and a part of the business.” 

From there on the interview jumps from subject to subject. 

I ask her whatever happened to the project Dean Martin’s producer Greg Garrison had for starring Martin, her, and Jackie Gleason in a revival of the musical “Guys and Dolls.”  (2)

“I never said I would do it. Garrison kept publicizing it, but he never cleared it with me. I do still want to do ‘Diamond Jim’ with Jackie It’s just a matter of finding the time.” (3)

A lady editor wants to know how Lucy keeps her sinuous figure. 

“I don’t particularly like food. I’m not very fond of meat, for example, except in the morning.” 

Which brings a snort of disgust from her husband. “Can you imagine what it’s like to have to watch her eating corned beef or hamburger at 6 o’clock in the morning?” 

The questions now go to the children. What are Desi’s plans? Does he want to make acting his future? “I want to be an actor for awhile but I don’t think I ever want to be one certain thing.” 

Young Lucy, who, at 18, is two years older than her brother, is more sure of her future “I’ll go to college for awhile but I like acting. I’ll stay at it if I can.” 

Would she somebody asks join the campus protest and carry a sign? Only if it says ‘wet paint’ quips she. 

Lucy now introduces her cast veteran, Gale Gordon. He pays her extravagant compliments and talks a bit about his radio and early television days. 

The interview’s late arrival is venerable George Marshall, who is now the show’s director. Lucy introduces him as “our sexy senior citizen.” Marshall goes back to the dawn of movies and is filled with fascinating anecdotes about his years in the business. (4)

The conversation turns to TV’s talk shows. Somebody suggests to Lucy that she would be a highly likely guest for Merv Griffin’s new show starting on CBS Aug 18. (5)

Lucy's answer comes lancing back “That’s what you think. I don’t like him.” Which rocks everybody back. Why not? “Because he doesn’t know how to interview. He’s rude to his guests and he monopolizes the conversation.” 

She doesn’t wait for the next question. “I’m wild about Dick Cavett (on ABC) I think he’s great And I told Bill Paley (board chairman of CBS) he should have him on our network. But Bill said ABC got him first and we’re out of luck.” (6)

Everybody is suddenly distracted by three teen-age girl fans leaning over a fence way up front. They’re begging to be allowed on the grounds. Morton jogs forward to shoo them away. 

“This happens all the time,” says Lucy. “My God they used to picnic right in front of the house until our police department stopped them. Jimmy Stewart, who lives up the street, finally told me how to keep them away. Turn on the lawn sprinklers.” 

Morton returns and takes everybody for a tour of their luxurious but very lived-in home. Lucy tells us a funny story about how Jack and Mary Benny had once been their next door neighbors sold their home then asked her to try to mediate a re-sale of the place back to them. Then we take our leave.

#    #    # FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) Dr. Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y Alberni II (1894-1973) was a Cuban politician and the father of Desi Arnaz. He graduated from the Southern College of Pharmacy in 1913 in Atlanta, Georgia. Desiderio Arnaz II was the youngest mayor of Santiago de Cuba (1923–32). When president Machado was overthrown in August 1933, Arnaz was arrested and jailed. Six months later, he was allowed to go into exile. He married Dolores "Lolita" de Acha y de Socias in 1916 and had one son, Desiderio "Desi" Arnaz III. He later had a daughter, Connie Arnaz (1932), with Anne M. Wilson, whom he married in 1941.

(2) Guys & Dolls was a 1950 stage musical by Frank Loesser, based on the stories by Damon Runyon starring Robert Alda, who appeared on several episodes of “The Lucy Show” and “Here’s Lucy”.  It was filmed by MGM in 1955. During that time, Lucy and Desi were also under contract to MGM, so they prevailed upon “I Love Lucy” to insert a clip from the film into “Lucy and the Dummy” (ILL S5;E3). After its initial airing on October 17, 1955, the clip was removed from the film print, and for legal reasons, has never been restored. It is unclear whether Garrison’s project with Martin, Ball, and Gleason would have been a film revival, or a stage production. Whatever it was to be, Lucy wanted to have no part of it, perhaps remembering the rigors of performing on stage in Wildcat (1960). During her film career, Ball was in two films based on Damon Runyon material, The Big Street (1942), a film she claimed as her favorite, and Sorrowful Jones (1949). She also did a radio version of Runyon’s “Tight Shoes” in 1942. Ball and Gleason would have been cast as Miss Adelaide and Nathan Detroit, while Dean Martin would have played Sky Masterson, the romantic lead. Those roles were played by Vivian Blaine, Frank Sinatra, and Marlon Brando in the film. Obviously, the project never came to be. 

(3) “Diamond Jim” was a project that Lucy dearly wanted to make with Gleason. He would play Diamond Jim Brady (1856-1917) to her Lillian Russell. Ball even went so far as to have a script written to further grab Gleason’s attention. Despite their best intentions, Gleason and Ball’s schedules never allowed for enough time to make the film. 

(4) George Marshall (1891-1975) had directed Lucille Ball in Valley of the Sun (1942) and Fancy Pants (1950).  He was considered an expert at location shooting, so when “Here’s Lucy” wanted to spend the first four episodes of Season 2 on location, Marshall was hired as director. He stayed on for seven more episodes of the sitcom before bowing out. 

(5) Despite Lucille Ball’s rather harsh public assessment of Merv Griffin (1925-2007) at this August 1969 press party, Ball appeared on “The Merv Griffin Show” four times between 1971 and 1980! During her first appearance, the aforementioned George Marshall was also a guest! 

(6) Lucille did seem to enjoy doing the talking to Dick Cavett, although she only got to do his chat show once, on March 7, 1974, in conjunction with her press tour for Mame. 

#Lucille Ball #1969 #Press Party #Dick Cavett #Merv Griffin #TV #Here's Lucy #Gary Morton #Lucie Arnaz #Desi Arnaz Jr. #Guys and Dolls #George Marshall #Jack E. Anderson

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - The Ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary 

Charlie,

You worry as much as your father, honestly! I am doing just fine here! Holding down the fort bravely in constant preparation for you to return to us and peace to fall once again. We’ve been following the RAF’s plans on promotional posters that the government has put up around town and I always feel a sense of pride when I see the crowd gathered to read – my son is part of all those exciting plans to help save Britain! Evelyn’s working so hard too and she’s been bragging to everyone at the factory that you’re going to be flying the planes they’re all building. I guess you can say we’re all one big ball of pride in our house! Your father too, of course, although he doesn’t show it as easily, I know he’s proud of you. I hope you know it too!

Love always

Mum

March 3, 1941

“New shipment of planes in from London factories today.” one of the other pilots said as the young men sat around at lunch. Charlie smiled to himself into his mess tin as he stirred his food around, thinking of his sister and her constant letters of excitement when it comes to building those same planes he would be receiving that day.

“How are they being delivered?” Richard asked.

“Air Transport Auxiliary.” the pilot answered. “Only the finest women in all of London to fly us our planes.”

“Finest women?” another questioned, his eyes wide.

“Not the finest women.” a third smacked his shoulder, “Just women volunteers with experience in flying so we don’t have to go fetch the planes ourselves.”

“After two years with you lot, any woman will be a fine woman.”

“I forget what a woman looks like.”

“What about the ones in the control room?”

“Nah. They’re all subpar or married.”

“Married? That certainly didn’t stop me.”

Then young men burst into laughter, all talking over each other with their own stories of women, but Charlie and Richard sat quietly together while they ate side by side. The best friends shared little shy smiles amidst the all too experienced men around them who found more pride in hook-ups rather than love. Must have been raised differently.

Soon, the sound of planes overhead got everyone’s attention as the shipment arrived, plane after plane landed carefully on the tarmac. Moments later, all heads in the mess hall turned to watch a group of young women dressed in dark royal blue uniforms encrusted with gold epaulets and a pair of gold wings sewn into the breast saunter inside. There was a pause from the men, all in shock at the beautiful clean kept women in stunning blue uniforms entered the mess hall. A few men jumped up to greet them eagerly and Richard and Charlie just chuckled and turned back to their lunches.

“Some of these men are so desperate.” Richard whispered.

Charlie glanced behind them again to the group of women that was dispersing as they headed to gather their own lunch servings from the canteen, a few held back by some of the pilots or ground crew who were trying to chat them up with flattery. His eyes found the source of a soft laugh that seemed to echo through the hall: a thin framed brunette girl with her hair in tight ringlets that sat messy over her head from her flying helmet that was dangling from her fingers.

Richard followed his best friend’s gaze across the hall when he realized his attempt at conversation was falling upon deaf ears, a small smirk playing at his lips when he saw what Charlie was staring at. He turned back to his best friend and nudged his shoulder, “Go talk to her.”

“What? No.” Charles said quickly and turned back to his lunch. “Everyone else already is. I won’t make any difference.

Richard frowned and looked back towards the crowd by the entrance to the mess hall, watching as the girl politely declined the advances of the man speaking to her and she headed their way towards the canteen.

Charles tried not to stare but the guys weren’t wrong – it had been a while since they had seen any sort of woman and this one in particular really seemed to catch his eye – and he watched discreetly as she walked past their table, her messy curls bouncing, and she pulled her leather gloves off with her teeth and tucked them in the pocket of her royal blue uniform jacket. She approached the canteen to get a serving of lunch with a few of the other girls from the Air Transport Auxiliary.

“Go say hi.” Richard pressed.

“No.” Charlie said under his breath, ducking his head back to his lunch. “She won’t want me anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course, she will.” Richard scoffed.

Charlie just shrugged, scrapping the bottom of his tin with his fork anxiously. His best friend sighed and turned back to the women again. Richard was always the shyer of the two but when it came to Charlie, he did get a little bolder. Bold enough to stand up and raise his hand to the group of three women searching for a spot to sit.

“We have empty seats here.” Richard offered sweetly, his youthful face and wide smile making the girls smile with relief as to not have to sit with some strange desperate older men and suffer through flirtatious and borderline risqué comments. Charlie smacked his best friend in annoyance as he sat back down. Richard only smiled at him innocently.

“Hello.” the young woman smiled at them, sitting herself down right across from Charlie.

“Hi.” he replied softly, ducking his shy smile back to his obviously empty lunch but still scraped his fork along the side regardless.

She unbuttoned her jacket and draped it over the metal table with her helmet and gloves, leaving her in her white button-up and black tie. She held out her hand to Charlie, “I’m Mary.”

He glanced up at her and then took her handshake, “Charlie.”

The other two girls busied themselves talking with Richard while Mary’s eyes dropped to the name tag sewn into Charlie’s breast of his jacket reading his surname.

“Seavey. You aren’t Evelyn’s brother by chance?” Mary asked.

Charlie’s entire face rose into a grinning smile at the mention of his sister, “Yeah. I am.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous. She was going around telling all of us this morning to keep an eye out for you. I’m sure a few more girls are going to come over to pass on the message before we head back.” Mary chuckled.

“How is she? Does she look okay?” Charlie questioned without thinking; it was habit.

“I mean I just met the girl today but I think she looked just fine. Quite chipper despite the raging war we’re facing.”

“That’s Ev for you.” Charlie said, his sad but loving smile not faltering from his face.

One of the girls butted in, “Mary, have you seen Ellie since we landed?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh goodness. I hope she didn’t hit a balloon.”

Richard and Charlie’s eyes went wide at the casual suspicion of the girls’ teammate blowing herself up mid-flight. It was nothing they themselves weren’t unfamiliar with but they didn’t expect the women to be familiar with it.

“Do you…see casualties often?” Richard asked.

“Not too often but it’s inevitable. It’s a warzone after all so we’re never safe in the skies…you two certainly understand that.” Mary said as she took a bite of her lukewarm lunch. “But it’s terribly exciting to fly.”

“Isn’t it?” Richard grinned. “I love it.”

“There’s something so peaceful about being up there even if it’s also incredibly dangerous.”

“It’s like you’re the kings of the clouds.” Charlie said.

“And we’ll be the queens of the clouds.” Mary winked sweetly at him.

Richard smirked at his best friend’s blushing cheeks.

When lunch was finished, the girls had to start to head to the trucks that would drive them back to the city and Richard and Charlie walked out with their small group of new friends. There was still some time before they had to leave so they chatted on the tarmac for a bit, Richard seeming to make the other two girls laugh easily which surprised the usually shy boy but he basked in it. He cracked a few jokes and told a few stories and the girls were hanging onto his every word – but mostly just staring at him and his messy brown hair and sparkling grey eyes, the proud spitting image of his father.

“Come with me.” Mary grabbed Charlie’s arm and led him towards the lineup of planes that were resting outside the garage and they passed a few before she took him up to a specific one she seemed to have in mind.

She let go of his arm to climb up onto the wing and Charlie watched with awe as she so easily opened the cockpit and hopped in. He stepped closer to lean over the edge of the plane to see what she was trying to show him: a little scratch mark on the window ledge. At nearly 6’ tall, Charlie only had to raise onto his tiptoes to get a clear view of the initials etched messily into the metal.

MLT – ATA

“What’s that?” Charlie asked.

“’Mary Lois Thompson, Air Transport Auxiliary’. I flew this one over today and thought I’d brand it a little.” she giggled.

“So you’re showing me your crime?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at her.

Mary smiled over at him, “No, I’m showing you because I want you to have my lucky plane.”

“Your lucky plane? You flew it for one afternoon.”

“Oh my goodness, you are seriously no fun at banter.” Mary tisked as she climbed out of the cockpit and jumped right back onto the tarmac. She was much shorter compared to him and Charlie had to nearly look down at her when she stood in front of him. “It flies marvellously well and it has something none of the others do.”

“Or you could be tricking me into flying the worst plane just so I crash.”

“Why would I want the RAF’s most handsome pilot to crash?” she tisked, an innocent little smirk on her face that only grew when his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink and he turned to the ground shyly.

“Mary! It’s time to go!” one of her friends called across the base.

“That’s my cue.” Mary took a step back to head after her group.

Charlie grabbed her hand to stop her, “W-Will I ever see you again?”

Mary smiled at him and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m sure you will. Write to the factory and address it to me,” she nodded towards the plane, “you know my name.”

Charlie nodded and let her hand slip out of his as he watched her walk away. He stepped out from behind the row of planes to follow her all the way down the tarmac and to the trucks that were waiting with the rest of the women to head back towards the city. Richard was still standing at the end of the row of planes and he looked back to his best friend with a smile and rushed over to him.

“Did you kiss her?” he asked quickly.

Charlie shook his head, biting back his bashful grin, “No.”

“Why not?!” Richard smacked his shoulder. “She was obviously interested in you.”

“I’m going to write her first.” Charlie smiled lightly and then turned to his best friend, “Besides, even if I did kiss her, why would I tell you?”

“I’m your best friend! Known you our whole lives! You best be telling me, you bastard!” Richard gasped and gave him a shove, just making Charles laugh.

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx​ @hopinglimelight​ @jonahlovescoffee​ @hiya-its-amber​ @chanelwonders​

#✉ #daniel seavey #corbyn besson #why dont we

[jk-unless]

You’re In The Marvel Films!!

Part 3 - CA : Civil War

Previous , Next

After Tony’s B.A.R.F presentation at the MIT Alumni event

You watch as he simply stares at the final words on the teleprompter he was suppose to say to the audience.”Now I would like to introduce the head of the foundation: Pepper Potts.”

Tony and Pepper had recently hit a pretty rough spot in their relationship.Because of this,Pepper hadn’t showed to the event.Tony knew about this and was fine until those words came up.It made him realize just how big of a part she had in all of it,and how much he missed her.

You immediately beat yourself up about the incident even though it was out of your hands.Because Pepper had canceled last minute,they didn’t have time to change it before Tony went on.You tried to tell him this as he walked off stage to which he replied: “It’s...fine.I’ll be right back.”He then made his way to the restroom,leaving you feeling guilty about not just the incident,but about Pepper not showing up in the first place.

~•~•~•~

After a while,you went looking for Tony to make sure he was alright.Finding him staring down the hallway at a retreating woman,you approached him cautiously and asked if he was okay.After a moment,he placed a hand on your arm.”Yeah,” he said “let’s get out of here.”

After Tony rounded up Steve and Sam.

Steve looks at the wall of various monitors,focusing on the one that shows his closest companion locked up in a metal box.

“Hey,you wanna see something cool?” Tony says,bringing Steve’s attention to him.Tony holds up a slinder,black box.”I pulled it from Dad’s archives.Felt timely.” He puts his coat down as Steve takes a seat at the table.

Tony puts the box on the table,opening it then turning it towards Steve.”FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941.Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most.”Steve studied the black box with a shake of his head.”Some would say it brought our country closer to war.”

Tony stops and chooses his words wisely before saying with a teasing smirk “See?If not for these,you wouldn’t be here.I’m trying to...what do you call it?”He sits down with a grunt as he tries to think of the right term.”That’s an olive branch.Is that what you call it?” Tony rubs his hand over his mouth,a signal of stress and discomfort.He doesn’t know where this conversation is going,but he wants it to end with Steve signing those papers.Realizing that was possibly Tony’s angle,Steve decides to change the subject.

“Sam tells me his sister,Cammi,is your new assistant.”

“Well,after Pepper started pretty much doing her own thing in the company,I needed someone to deal me.It was a pretty in the moment type deal,me hiring her,but she’s a good kid.She keeps me in check.” Tony explains with a fond smile.

“Speaking of Pepper,is she here?I haven’t seen her around...”

(And y’all know where that goes...)

After Baron’s evaluation with Bucky.

After a very long and stressful day,Tony was eventually able to make his way back home.He coops himself up in his lab,as he always does,and tries to wrap his head around everything that has happened in the last few days.You eventually disturb his peace,approaching him and smiling when he looks up.

“It’s late,Cammi.” He says tiredly,but with no real heat behind it.If anything,he was glad you were here.You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. “Says the one who’s cooped up in his lab at 1:00 am.”

He rubs at one of his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. “Touché.Where you coming from?”

You coyly lock your fingers together and rock on your heels and toes.”My office.”Any trace of exhaustion momentarily erased from Tony face as he realized what you said.”Cammi!”

“I was just getting a head start on things!”You try to explain to him but he turns around on his stool and let’s out a heavy sigh. “Which probably wasn’t the best idea,my head is painin’ me so bad.”You say why rubbing your temples.Tony looks at you with an unamused look on his face.”Maybe now you’ll learn to stop working when work is done...unlike me.“He says while grunting as he stretched in a failed attempt to loosen some of his aches and pains.”Well,I just wanted to check on you before I head out.”Tony went still.He subtly clenched and unclenched the hands that laid on the table in front of him,having no idea what to do or say.

“I know it’s not my place as an assistant,but as a friend-” you start but as he finally turns to you fully at the mention of the word that didn’t fully describe what you were to them,you became a bit timid.”I’m worried.About both of you.”

He takes your hands and rubs his thumbs over your knuckles soothingly. “There’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,Cammi.”

“I-“ you start,but huff when you realized you didn’t know how to respond.He started talking again before you could think of something anyway. “And with that being said,I want you to get out of these clothes.” he begins,making you look at him in shock.Noticing your face,he chuckles.”And I want you to get some rest.You’re going to see Pepper in the morning,and you’ll be with her until further notice.” He finished.

You gawked at him. “You’re under enough stress as it is,Tony,I don’t think sending the help away is the right way to go.”

“What did I tell you about calling yourself that?”He scolds lightly.You calling yourself “the help” made him think of the The Help and it made him uncomfortable.

“My bad.” You apologized,failing to hide your grin.

A small smile graced his features,only being there for a quick moment before he got back to the subject at hand.“I just want her to have someone right now.” He says quietly,as if he’s scared to admit that she’s probably hurting just as much as him.You get it,you really do.But like you said,you were worried about him.

“And what about you?” You asked.He smiled a pained smile.

“I’ll be alright.”

You didn’t believe him,obviously.Instead of pressing the matter though,you pulled him up by his hands - putting his arms around your waist then putting yours around his neck in a warm embrace.

Outfits for this story here.

(Completely optional bc I know readers like to think of their own outfits!This is just for help with visualization if you need it!)

(A/N:This one is a little rough around the edges,but I think I like it?I dunno,enjoy!)

#youre in the marvel films #youre in the marvel movies #poc oc #black oc #marvel oc #poc marvel oc #marvel x black!reader #series #cammi jones

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

She is forever - Part 3

Series Masterlist - Stucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC, Bucky Barnes x OC (Ophelia Wright)

Summary: When Steve and Bucky went to the army there was a girl they went to school with who wasn’t allowed to go. She was left alone and never thought about again, until Steve sees a carbon copy of her on the streets outside Stark tower and she seems to know them just a little too well to be a stranger.

Word count: 1777

‘Bucky, I think it’s time you leave,‘ Tony speaks loud and clear. ‘She’s lying to us,‘ he barks at Steve, ‘she isn’t Ophelia’s granddaughter, she IS Ophelia.‘

Ophelia never thought her own studio could feel this hostile and cold. No one dares to speak as Steve tries to wrap his head around what Bucky claimed mere seconds ago. Both Tony and Natasha are thoroughly confused while Peter just disappears back into the background. It’s like a blanket of fog has fallen over the group, making them unable to see each other. ‘Bucky,‘ Ophelia tries to approach him again, but he holds up his hand to stop her coming explanation. ‘How do you know they call me Bucky? I introduced myself to you as James.‘ ‘Steve keeps calling you that. And remember the pictures I gave to Steve,‘ she says to try and explain it, ‘please, you don’t really believe I am that old do you?‘ ‘We are that old,‘ he argues, ‘why would we believe you aren’t? For all we know you could’ve been frozen by Hydra as well. Are you spying on us?‘ ‘N-no, why would you think that,‘ she seems desperate and scared. It makes Tony worry for what Bucky’s next move might be. So he steps in, grabbing her shoulder so he can pull her out of the way just in case Bucky tries something. ‘That’s it Bucky,‘ he says, ‘you can’t just accuse the girl without any evidence.‘ ‘No evidence?‘ He grabs a painting from the back of the stack and holds it up. It’s a portrait she made Steve pose for. She can see by the look on Steve’s face that he recognizes it too. ‘The date on this painting is the third of June, 1942. Signed by Ophelia Wright. Then this painting,‘ he picks up a newer painting and holds it next to it, ‘is a painting from last year. The signatures are identical.‘ The whole groups looks at Ophelia. ‘Now tell me. Are you send by Hydra?‘ ‘You’re a dick Barnes. You always were,‘ she mutters with a fake smile, feeling a tear slip down her cheek, ‘I am not send by Hydra and I wasn’t frozen.’ She wipes the tear off her cheek and straightens herself up. ‘Leave.‘ ‘What?‘ Bucky looks disrespected, like he thought he didn’t do anything wrong. For a second he thought the truth would come out and he’d have his friend back, but he thought wrong. ‘You heard me,‘ her voice sounds shaky, but her eyes look certain, ‘leave. In fact, all of you can leave.‘ Hesitantly, the group starts to make their way out the door. Steve, however, doesn’t feel like it applies to him until she shoots him a killing glare. He hurries down the stairs with her trailing behind. When the group gets to the front office they look back. ‘Naomi, we’re closing early today,‘ Ophelia tells the girl at the front desk and shoots another glare at the group, ‘I said leave.‘ Her voice sounds venomous and the group wastes no time getting out of there. ‘I’m sorry, what is going on,‘ Naomi asks Ophelia. ‘I got an offendingly low offer,‘ Ophelia lies, ‘now please close the gallery for the day. You’ll get the day paid in full, but I just can’t keep this place open today.‘ Naomi knows not to ask any more questions and goes on her merry way.

The hostile feeling in the studio seems to be brought over to the Stark Tower as Bucky and Steve locked themselves up in their separate rooms to think while Natasha, Peter, and Stark try to make sense of the situation. ‘So she’s immortal,‘ Peter comments, looking surprised at his own words, ‘but that wouldn’t make sense. She’s a human.‘ His eyes widen. ‘Is she human?‘ Natasha sighs and runs a hand through her hair. ‘Whatever she is, I don’t think she wants anyone to know,‘ she says, ‘remember how Steve was rummaging through his room to find pictures of Ophelia and he found like three even though they were best friends throughout their whole lives? I’m guessing she doesn’t want there to be any record of her being alive.‘ ‘That would make sense with the immortality,‘ Tony says, shooting up from his seat, ‘I mean, if people were to find out there are actual people who are immortal they would like to run tests on them and maybe dissect them. Earlier in the days she might’ve been seen as a witch and maybe they tried to burn her at the stake. It would make sense for her to stay hidden.‘ ‘But that wouldn’t make sense with her being a fairly well known artist,‘ Natasha objects, ‘they would be able to tell that the paintings were made by she same person because of the signature.‘ ‘Ah, but that’s the thing,‘ Tony exclaims, ‘she uses an alias on the paintings she sells and often works together with other artists which begs the question if she makes all the art under that alias herself. And, she never comes out and says that it’s her alias. She only told me because I figured it out.‘ ‘So they alias can keep existing without her,‘ Peter says like he’s just seen the light, ‘but that means the paintings Bucky found were private for her to keep. Maybe for nostalgic purposes?‘ ‘Could be,‘ Tony says, ‘we should run some face recognition through date banks to see if we can find any trace of her.‘ ‘Should we though,‘ Natasha falters, ‘she obviously tried very hard to stay under the radar.‘ ‘But then why would she stay here if Steve and Bucky know her,‘ Peter questions. ‘I’m guessing they were very special to her,‘ Natasha hums, ‘they might’ve been trustworthy people to her.‘ ‘I think she found out they were alive and wanted to see them grow old like she was supposed to when they were friends back in the day,‘ Tony suggests, ‘I’m going to run some pictures through the system.‘ ‘I’ll come too,‘ Peter calls and jumps up from his seat. ‘You should tell Steve and Bucky that you’re doing this,‘ Natasha states. ‘Why? You saw how feral they went when they realized she might be the girl they used to know,‘ Tony shrugs, ‘if anything, they should be told off for treating an old friend like that. Especially since they know what it’s like to outlive everyone you love.‘ Natasha sighs. ‘Fair enough.‘

“Dear Steve and Bucky,

It pains me that things had to happen the way they did and I’m sorry that you’ll never hear the explanation from my mouth, but I hope this letter will be a satisfactory replacement. You don’t have to believe me, but I am immortal. I have been alive for about 400 years and will probably continue to be alive until the end of time unless the Gods decide my time will come earlier. I am sorry I never told you but events of my past made me more careful than I would like to admit. The only reason I lived so close without ever trying to make contact is because I wanted to see the both of you thrive like I was supposed to see back in the day. You can’t imagine how much joy it brought me to see the both of you alive and well. See this letter as a goodbye and grant me one last favor. Keep my secret so so that I may continue to live my life without torture as I have seen my fair share of it by now. If you do not wish to grant me this favor I will not blame you for it. I have been a horrible friend to you. There will be some old paintings and a picture with the paintings I left for Tony. Those are for the two of you. Please be civil about splitting them between the two of you.

Don’t try to find me, as I will be long gone once you receive this letter.

Love,

Ophelia

P.S. The picture is the original. Please keep it private because I know there is a picture of me in that dress from about fifty years before that day that is somewhere in national archives.“

‘Ophelia left,‘ Steve stammers, handing the letter to Bucky as he himself stares at the picture. It’s a simple picture of the three of them posing in front of the absurd amount of plants in Ophelia’s living room. Knowing Ophelia, there is writing on the back so Steve flips it over and reads: “September 23th, 1941. Ophelia’s 22th 321st birthday. Please remember me. Love, Ophelia.“ ‘I feel horrible,‘ Bucky admits. Steve sits down with him and hands the picture over. Bucky frowns at the sight of it and seems saddened by the back. ‘Me too buddy,‘ Steve sighs. ‘Should we have a look at the paintings?‘ Steve nods. The two men walk over to the two stacks of paintings propped up against the wall. The one in front of their stack is the painting they discovered the day before. ‘You should take that one,‘ Bucky tells Steve, ‘it’s you after all.‘ Steve nods and sets it aside. Next picture is a portrait of a smiling Bucky. The two paintings look like polar opposites. The one of Steve looks strong and powerful while Bucky’s looks vulnerable and cheerful. She painted them the way she saw them. Then comes the painting Bucky had seen when she walked over of the two of them in the lake, but behind that one is a painting of a picture she had given to Steve. One that Bucky took where she was on Steve’s back. And then came the last two paintings. They’re based of pictures she had made them take for fun of her in their blouses. It had been for fun but looking back on those, you can see how much effort she was putting into making them memorable. ‘I remember my mom used to call her a whore when she found the copies she send us,‘ Bucky smiles. ‘My dad once asked how much we were paying her,‘ Steve laughs nostalgically. ‘We could’ve known,‘ Bucky murmurs, ‘she was way too free for our time. It was like she didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion.‘ ‘That’s fair.‘ The two split the paintings and bring them to their separate rooms. Meanwhile, Tony ventures into the common room and finds the letter addressed to him stuck to one of the paintings.

“Dear Tony,

Thank you so much for supporting me and being a friend. I’m sorry things have to end like this, but my time has come to move on. I’m sure you’ve figured me out by now so all I ask for is for you to keep my secret so that I may live my life without constant torture. These paintings are a token of my gratitude. They’re yours to keep or sell or whatever you want to do with them.

Love,

Ophelia.“

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky #captain america #captain america fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic

[quillyfied]

Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 3

THE FINAL CHALLENGER APPROACHES.

This will hopefully be the last Mega Fic Rec Post I make for a long, long time; I have enjoyed it, but a lot of work goes into these and I’m tired. There are 73 titles on this list, organized by category: Jaunts through History/Canon, South Downs, Post-Apocalypse, Bus Ride/The Night Before/Heaven and Hell, AU/UA, Just Soft, Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings, Bonus, and H/C /Whump/BAMF. Please enjoy these treasures as I have.

Mentioned questionable material where appropriate; several authors have Tumblrs but I wasn’t able to tag them, for whatever reason. Oh well.

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

IF A LINK IS BROKEN OR I HAVE MISATTRIBUTED SOMETHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1. let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster) – @thehoyden (T, the one where Aziraphale had a big ole crush on Crowley before the Fall and it doesn’t stop from happening. This one’s just cute; starts with a “senpai notice me” vibe that morphs into mutual pining very, very quickly. It hits the high notes of a lot of cute romance tropes and I’m into it.)

2. Pride and Prejudice and Angels – SanSanFanFan (G, the one where Miss Crowley and Mr. Fell clash wits. Kinda. Mainly it’s a lot of lovely pining and Aziraphale being sad about awful things happening in London, so he’s escaping to Hampshire for a while, where Crowley happens to be in the middle of a temptation she promptly abandons in favor of lifting Aziraphale’s spirits. Not finished, but already sparkling with Crowley being miffed about gender double standards and Aziraphale letting himself be cheered up by Crowley. It’s great.)

3. Kissing, Accidentally – @skybound2 (G, the one where Crowley can’t help kissing Aziraphale after pinning him against the wall.  Hilarious and sweet and featuring that best trope of all, Crowley going boneless and speechless at an unexpected show of affection and wanting from his angel.)

4. Visible world (or, you are responsible forever for what you have tamed) – @matchahedgehog (T, the one where Russian folklore plays a significant element and it’s weird and beautiful. I don’t think I can really convey what this is, exactly, but there are elements of building a new world and holding on tight to love even through the toughest times and it’s gorgeous.)

5. I’ve Been Drowning All These Years – @terrible-titles (T, the one where Crowley comforts Aziraphale five times and one time Aziraphale comforts Crowley. There are some discomfiting scenes Crowley is talking Aziraphale through in this one, but the comfort is sweet and the resolution is well-deserved.)

6. Moving Rocks – shiphitsthefan (T, the one where confessions are made in 1941 but they can’t act just yet, and waiting is agony. I really adore this one, especially what happens when they finally Smooch, because it happens in a spot I rarely see anyone putting it and it made me smile. The longing is so painful, poor Aziraphale. Poor Crowley.)

7.  On a Wing and a Prayer – @alphacygni-8 (T, the one where Crowley is a pining mess but he has a plan. This is another trip through history of Crowley trying to go about his business while his feels are crushing him, but I think it’s how Crowley tries to go about confessing that helps make this one a standout; there is a restaurant and there is a lot of food and there are, of course, miscommunications aplenty. The historical scenes are nothing to sneeze at, either, they’re all packed with longing and bittersweetness. Lovely.)

8. in the shapes of angels – @qwanderer (T, the one where navigating an intimate and loving relationship of any stripe is difficult when your true form is a bit noncorporeal. This one crescendos in a form of angel-demon soul bonding that really reverberates and sticks in the brain, the visuals are incredible. And the implications of switching bodies gets a lot more high-stakes, too. On top of it all this is a story about finding someone to share your life with, whatever the arrangement of the relationship might actually be, and friends it’s tender and scary and wonderful.)

9. Pilgrim – brasspetal (T, the one where Crowley is on a sabbatical to sort out his feelings and he writes love letters, of a sort. This one is one of those fics that feels like treading in deep water knowing there’s something more in the depths, but it’s more tranquil and less unsettling. There’s an overstory about Crowley traveling with a group of humans and an undercurrent about him working through how he feels about Aziraphale and the two work together to bring about something memorable and, I feel, truly impactful. It’s entirely possible that by the time the last chapter is up, the story will be something completely different from what I’ve described, and that’s cool.)

10. drowned in living waters – @mortuarybees (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale make out in a field and almost get caught. This one is short and sad and made me feel sad things, though the imagery is gorgeous and the argument leading up to the kissing is entertaining. Stupid Gabriel and his stupid face.)

11. Things They Need – LostSoftSpaceDyke (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale take lovers as stepping-stones to get to each other. This one is bittersweet and FRAUGHT, friends, it is absolutely a heart-masher. The ending rights it, of course, and beautifully, but welcome to Hopeless Longing Town, friendos, population One Angel and One Demon.)

12. Off the record – @paintedvanilla (T, the one where Crowley reports his personal sins and then neglects to report his virtues. Bookverse, a wonderful character study of Crowley and Hell’s bureaucracy and how certain things affect Crowley personally. Includes a lovely homage to Freddie Mercury, of course.)

13. By Any Other Name – ausgezeichnet (@thebeatlesaremyboyband) (T, the one where Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis fake a wedding to get Thad Dowling off their backs. While it definitely has its funny moments, what stands out more to me in this one are the soft, quiet moments of pining sprinkled in between their adventures. There’s real strain between Crowley and Aziraphale with this turn of events, and I can’t wait to see it all boil over. Also Thaddeus Dowling is a dickbag in this one and is deffo getting his.)

14. God’s Gift – Katzedecimal (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale are undercover as a lady and her tire-woman while on a job. This one is based on one of the stories from The Akashic Records by PeniG (which y’all know I adore), specifically one where a potential 30K caper is laid out involving this exact scenario, and I love that someone actually tried to tackle some of it. The friendship is so good, and the little bit of excitement that happens in the plot is Terribly Exciting. Just ladies taking care of ladies, what could be better?)

15. All I Want (Is You) – amavyllis (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale don’t touch but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to. Oh, y’all, the longing. The LONGING. And the sheer ACHE of not being able to touch someone you would like to be physically close with. It is PAINFUL and it is GOOD and I am DYING.)

16. meantime i ask you to be my valentine (i’ll be your valentino) – hipsterchrist (T, the one that follows Saint Valentine’s Days through the ages. This one is really interesting, actually, and has one of the most eclectic collections of historical moments I’ve ever seen in one of these types of fics. That ending scene is on point, though; I spoil nothing but you guys TEARS. Of LAUGHTER. And also OVERWHELMED WITH EMOTION.)

SOUTH DOWNS

17. Let Me Live Here Ever – @moveslikebucky (T, the one where they’re soft and just talk about their feelings and smooch a lot. This one is part of a larger series but you don’t need to have read it to read this one. It is so very soft, y’all. So tender. I will never be over stories where they just lay in bed all day and revel in how they feel about each other and their life together.)

18. The Cottage, The Husbands – Dragonsquill (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale have a life in the South Downs and it is good. Featuring lots of cute little tableaus and some of the most fun OCs ever—Twelve in particular is a treat, she’s Crowley’s stylist and absolutely wonderful. The whole series is just FUN, it’s cute and casual and domestic and great.)

19. For All the Stars in Heaven – ausgezeichnet (@thebeatlesaremyboyband) (T, the one where Heaven and Hell need to shove off already. This one takes off almost without warning, and escalates rather quickly before a frankly genius solution to The Problem of Aziraphale and Crowley is found. I only deal in happy endings, so you KNOW it’s good for the husbands. Surprisingly good, in fact, I didn’t see it coming at all.)

20. Angel and Demon Teatime – @penig (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale entertain a few unwanted guests for a while. This one is really cool, with a lot of sensory details while Crowley and Aziraphale relive a lot of the sensations of Earth and bring them into the physical world for the spies Heaven and Hell sent after them to experience them, too. The spies are both precious, though in completely different ways, and the ways they go about changing through this visit are subtle but profound.)

21. The Tales of Eden Cottage – Jupiter_Ash (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale slowly settle into their new South Downs community. This one has a lot of fun OCs and some extremely touching stories (the one about Joshua in particular broke my heart in all the best ways). Their neighbors are a lot of fun and the fic in particular that has a facebook chat of their speculations on who the new guys moving into Eden Cottage are is fantastic.)

22. A Brand New Angle – @fallsouthwinter (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale pick a direction and gun it. Has first kisses, dancing, delightful neighbors, gardening—all the best ingredients for a heartwarming, satisfying South Downs romp. And this definitely is one—with some promising things to come, judging by the standalone in the same universe!)

23. A Safe Place for You – Vagabond (@waffleironbiddingwar) (M, the one where learning to receive love is a little bit harder lesson to take in than giving love. M for a humanly intimate scene that borders but does not cross into full smut, and an ethereally intimate scene that is weird and pretty. This whole thing is achingly poignant and heavy; every word drips with emotion and it’s both difficult and sweet, much like the subject matter, I suppose. A memorable and beautiful piece.)

24. Act of Service – @dietraumerei (T, the one where people think Aziraphale is Crowley’s sugar daddy. This one starts off hilarious and then slam-dunks itself right into the Feels Pile, with a side-helping of discussing dynamics and reaching acceptance. An instant classic and one I’ve definitely read more than a few times.)

POST-APOCALYPSE

25. Thou Knowest Us Happy – @mirrorleaf (T, the one where Gabriel gets the truth shoved directly into his face. This is a fic of a fic (the original I have not read bc it’s rated E and I can’t do that for personal reasons), and while this fic references its source quite a bit, it’s not confusing enough for the fic itself to be off-putting. In fact, it’s a gorgeous one-two punch to the throat: first, the Banishing of the Archangel Gabriel, which is INCREDIBLY satisfying; second, the Making Sense of It All, where Aziraphale and Crowley realize they’re truly free and start to explore the various contexts of their relationship, past and future, which is very sweet. A delectable little treat, all told.)

26. Courage – @mandysimo13 (G, the one that’s a good old-fashioned post-apocalypse love confession. There’s a cute little characterization of Courage woven throughout, because of course Crowley personifies the emotions he is or isn’t dealing with, but on the whole it’s adorable and intimate and cute.)

27. when the earth is trembling – @stammiviktor (T, the one where Crowley takes Aziraphale on an amazing date. Listen, I adore stories where Crowley falls to pieces under the weight of his love as much as the next dork, but Crowley delivering? Crowley being, if not confident, then at least secure in the choices he’s making? Crowley showing his angel a good time because he knows what his angel likes? SIGN ME UP, FAM. Especially if we still get Crowley coming a little undone at his attentions paying off in a hoped-for but still unexpected way (to him, anyway).)

28. Little Terrors – @runwiththisdinosaur (T, the one where Aziraphale is being more affectionate and Crowley is one hand-touch away from an aneurism. This one doesn’t pull away from Crowley’s all-consuming fear of Aziraphale Falling for loving him, and captures the messy feelings and hurt and heartbreak and healing these two getting their act together demands. Also Indian food.)

29. Forgiveness – @guanin (G, the one where Aziraphale has a well-deserved breakdown after Armageddon’t. This one is super-duper cathartic and has Aziraphale working through all of his hurt feelings and confusion over Heaven and how they treated him, and how he subsequently treated Crowley. Featuring a very patient Crowley and a very weepy Aziraphale and a lot of wondering about fate and choice.)

30. Of burnt books and courting Crowley – robynvite (T, the one where Aziraphale accidentally finds out Crowley’s in love with him and then sets out to properly woo him. I love fics where Aziraphale finally takes the initiative, and he does so with gusto. Anathema serves as a great sounding board and go-between for these lovestruck idiots, and Crowley not knowing how to handle Aziraphale being flirty is the best thing. Also, Aziraphale finds out they burned the second Agnes Nutter book and has an angelic come-apart.)

31. that I may hear my heart fall from your lips – song_of_fate (NR, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale get to be themselves at last. Y’all like awkward but shyly happy getting-together fics? Y’all like Greek vacations? Y’all like Anathema being a bro and Crowley being casual and Aziraphale being absolutely taken with him? You’ve found your fic, folks, and it’s not even finished yet. More softness to come!)

BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

32. please please please let me get what I want this time – @sarahbacou (NR, the one where Crowley is extremely tired and Aziraphale muses on their situation. The tone of this one is mournful and apprehensive, but ultimately tender as Aziraphale cares for an exhausted-to-the-point-of-delirium Crowley on the bus ride home. The scene after they get off the bus is just straight-up heartbreaking, there are no other words for it, but it ends hopeful, especially knowing what we know about canon.)

33. Ethereal Love – @mariannightroad (G, the one where trying to teach Aziraphale to sleep morphs into something a little bit more. The purest and sweetest of romances, the most sexless making love of all time (even for weird angel essence-touching, it’s pretty devoid of lust), and just really really Soft u guys.)

34. Long Night’s Journey Into Day – @whatawriterwields (T, the one where Aziraphale keeps watch through the night. This one is adorable and very tender, with a terrible nightmare and an amusing adventure involving remote tea-making and FEELINGS. Aziraphale loves Crowley so much.)

35. Maybe Tomorrow Will Be a Better Day (If You Let Me Look at Your Beautiful Eyes) – TheWinterSldier (T, the one where Aziraphale ponders about Crowley’s eyes while wearing his body. There’s some historical jumping but the majority of the story is focused on retelling Crowley’s trial from Aziraphale’s head, and the meal at the Ritz afterwards. There are a lot of emotions about Crowley’s eyes. Ironically, there were also a lot of emotions about my eyes. Or, rather, in my eyes. Just overflowing with feels.)

AU/UA

36. Hard Times – @northeasternwind (G, the one that’s the bandstand scene in the context of Speremint’s Reverse Omens AU. I love the characterizations of Anthony and Azirafell so much in this particular AU, and the building tension and sudden breaking of the dam at the end is exquisitely done.)

37. Rosemary and Sage – AJissoverytired (T, the one that’s based on the witch AU by masao-micchi and is PRECIOUS. Crowley is the Red Witch, a very famous and talented mage, who accidentally gets turned into a snake by a rival and winds up being found by Aziraphale, a mage-in-training who’s starstruck by the Red Witch. They strike up a familiar contract, with Crowley conveniently not letting Aziraphale know who he actually is, and enter the Completely Ridiculous Comedy of a pseudo-love square. The world is vibrant and fun, characterization is spot-on, and it’s so funny and sweet I’m dying. Worth the read 4000%.)

38. Only Love (Can Bring the Rain) – @soft-october-night (T, the fairy tale-ish AU featuring a sweet prince and his handsome gardener boy. Y’all. Y’ALL. Pining and childhood friends-to-lovers and class struggles and vegetable-growing contests and subterfuge, oH MY. The flavor of this one is Very Very Good, absolutely a gem.)

39. Running in the Shadows (Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies) – @soft-october-night (M, the one that’s vaguely a Persuasion AU but is mostly a messy, emotional romance shoved into Regency decency. M for mentions of sexual activity that would most certainly overwhelm the sensibilities of a more delicate readership, but it’s not bad at all for a modern reader. I think soft_october might just own my soul, because HOT DANG, that is two AUs in a row that are scratching my itches in the best ways. The LONGING. The EMOTIONAL TURMOIL. The MASQUE BALL. The CLASS STRUGGLES. I have read it twice already and will definitely be coming back to it a lot, because there’s lots of meat on this here bone. Adam Young and Crowley’s relationship in particular is touching, and Crowley’s friendship with Anathema is top-notch.)

40. I have loved you (for a thousand years) – @asideofourown (T, the one where they’ve been dating the whole time but SOMEONE missed the memo. Classic miscommunication at its finest; Crowley’s chapter is painful enough with his pining and heartsick longing, but Aziraphale’s chapter knocks it out of the park with his perspective of actually being in a relationship with Crowley and the various misinterpretations that’s caused. They’re so stupid and I love them.)

41. Gravity – Emmbee_89 (T, the one where Crowley was Raphael and he and Aziraphale had (and have) a love so powerful Aziraphale created Time and they couldn’t be separated even after the Fall. Oh sweet Jebus and all his little elves, the tenderness and powerful heartbreak this one causes gave me actual physical pains. Bittersweet and lovely. I am so proud of them.)

42. The Love You Leave Behind – @gloriouscacophany (T, the one that’s a 1980s college AU where Aziraphale is studying abroad and Crowley is the singer of a rock band. This one is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous. Listen, I don’t usually go in for human AUs, but this one caught me, hook, line, and sinker. The sensory details are lush (especially when Aziraphale is noticing Crowley, hoo boy) and the story has some built-in heartbreak that’s already paying off (hello, homophobia), but despite the incoming pain and torment, I have full faith and expectation of a great ride along the way. Truly spectacular.)

43. Pray For Us, Icarus – @seaskystone (G and T, the series where Crowley keeps reincarnating as a human and Aziraphale loves him. Listen, I know 90% of you already know this masterpiece, but for the 10% who don’t, this series will heck you up one side and down the other. It will drown you in sorrow so that the good moments are sweeter than air. It is so intense, so emotionally raw, so dadgum TENDER, I had no idea what to do with myself after I finished it. Like a cheese grater on a sunburn when it’s bad, like hot chocolate on a bitter cold day when it’s good. A fandom staple for sure, cathartic and satisfying as only successful recovery after a long, hard, difficult event can be.)

44. Magnesium and Oil – @quaidpoppinjack (T, the one that’s a monster hunter AU. The great thing about fandom is that sometimes people will make AUs you would never have thought of, but once you know of it, you need it desperately. In this one, instead of tempting and thwarting, Crowley and Aziraphale are tasked with gathering the escaped creatures of Eden and sending them either to Hell or Heaven to stock for the impending War. The worldbuilding is AMAZING, the little details are great (for those of you wanting Crowley in hunting leathers, welcome to the party), and the story itself is just good, okay. Great action, lovely plot.)

45. alpha centauri – @hyruling (T, the one where Aziraphale agrees to run away to Alpha Centauri during the Apocalypse. To my understanding, this work was previously deleted by the author, but I’m so glad it was brought back so I could read it, because two very scared, very piney idiots carving out a domestic life on a barren planet WITH A CAT is the jam I didn’t know I had. Watching them circle each other is great; watching it all come tumbling down when Plot happens is even better. It’s a happy ending, don’t get it twisted, but you always have to wade through the Bad before you get to the Good, after all. A lovely little piece, absolutely A+++.)

46. Truth Untold – GenericUsername01 (G and T, the series where Crowley was Raphael, Aziraphale was made to be his assistant, and holy crap on a STICK where to even start. The worldbuilding is INSANE, I love how the Archangels are described and go about their business (word to the wise, do NOT skip the prologue work, you miss all of the best context if you do). And if that’s not great enough, there’s a whole system of angel-devil nemesis pairs all over Earth, whom we get to meet when devils start wanting to repent. There’s baptism involved and it’s horrifying and heartbreaking. Not finished yet, but it’s ramping up. Also, Crowley is functionally blind, which is about to start causing some real humorous problems since no one else knows about it, certainly not Aziraphale.)

47. Take me to the room where the red’s all red (take me out of my head, that’s what I said) – @raiining (M, the one that’s a Dom/sub AU with gentle top Aziraphale and bottom Crowley. No real sexual elements in this one, but I can understand why the M is there, the subject matter might be a little Much for some people even if it is fairly chaste (if sensual). The dynamic between Crowley and Aziraphale is delicious af, especially when they’re snapping at each other and then later melting into each other. It’s just. So good.)

48. Take This Sinking Boat and Point it Home – sobakasu, sssnakelady (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale used to be the same being, and the combination of fundamental incompletion compounding with being in love is tearing Crowley apart at the seams. Darkly emotional and absolutely raw with feeling, quiet and powerful and subtle. Crowley is absolutely heartbreaking, but Aziraphale manages to bind it all up quite nicely—not perfectly, they’ll have to work at it, but sweetly and with perfect love.)

JUST SOFT

49. Three Unthwarted Wiles – @almaasi (G, the one where Aziraphale lets Crowley get away with a few things. Oh my heaven it’s so SOFT, I know that’s the point of this section but HRRGK. Crowley does so much for Aziraphale and Aziraphale returns the favor as often as he can and they just love each other so much I’m sobbing.)

50. The Original Bar Joke – @deathbycoldopen (T, the one where Crowley sees himself as the punch line in God’s big ineffable joke. Sad until finally it isn’t, but Crowley spilling the beans via joke-that-turns-into-scathing-self-reproach is a unique flavor I wasn’t expecting and it broke my heart. Absolutely wonderful.)

51. Love Stories – @just-quintessentially-me (G, the one where Aziraphale is the maudlin sad drunk. Guys, I’ll be real, the emotional payoff of this fic is sweet, but the real highlight for me is Aziraphale scolding a fire he accidentally sets, because nothing feels so Aziraphale as him being drunk off his wings and attempting to LECTURE a FIRE. Also Crowley’s reaction to Aziraphale setting a fire in the bookshop is…well, about how you’d expect. A fantastic little number I quite enjoy.)

52. no mind to lose – @saints-and-demons-preserve-us (T, the one where Aziraphale goes fast and Crowley is a mess. Starts with an ode to Crowley’s long hair, as it rightly should, and evolves into a rather adorable start-stop where Aziraphale engages in various touching activities and Crowley is doing his level best, bless him, to catch up and remember how limbs and lungs work. Precious.)

53. Alas, Poor Yorick! This Is Gonna Suck! – WhiteQueenWrites (T, the one where Crowley finds his perfect opportunity while teaching a theater class to the Them. Yes, it’s canon!verse, not an AU. Yes, Crowley and Aziraphale kiss while teaching Romeo and Juliet. Yes, it is exactly as adorable and tween-traumatizing as you would expect. It’s very fun!)

54. Divine Intervention (aka God Ships It) – @theladyzephyr (G, the one where God has had it up to HERE with two idiots stuck in denial. Oh, folks. This fic is a TEASE. This fic is TANTALIZING. This fic is INFURIATING. And it is so, so worth its weight in gold, because the moment of triumph is so unspeakably sweet. It’s so good, y’all. So good.)

55. Learning to Speak the Language of Flowers – @junkshop-disco (M, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale are orbiting closer. M for discussions of trauma, I think. I’m not sure if I have the words for this one but I’ll try anyway. It shifts between the night the world didn’t end and the events after, and the time Crowley and Aziraphale spent in the Dowling household, and the transitions between the two are so smooth sometimes it’s hard to catch which time period you’re in. The writing is emotive and beautiful, and the emotional impetus behind the fic is compelling. Highly, highly recommended.)

56. seasons, changes – @whatawriterwields (G, the one that cycles through four seasons of Crowley and Aziraphale’s new life in love. Gorgeous and descriptive and so sensory—it really captures a lot of the best parts of each season. And also it’s incredibly loving and I die.)

57. waking up to you – @whatawriterwields (G, the series that’s a collection of tender morning moments. Listen, this writer is the MASTER of tender fluff, and this series is overwhelming. I have had to physically clutch at my heart and wail at my ceiling because of how cute everything is. If you need a dose of fluff after reading something angsty, here’s your medicine.)

58. Nemo dat quod non habet – @liquidlyrium (T and M, the series that examines the aftermath of the trials in Heaven and Hell, and Crowley and Aziraphale have an actual conversation. M rating is just to be safe bc the makeouts can be intense, but it’s not bad. The stories are basically revolving around the same conversation from two different points; Aziraphale’s bit goes more into the kissy-kissy afterwards. Powerful and raw, but understated; there’s dignity in this series, and a good bit of playfulness. The writing carries itself exceptionally well.)

59. Where to Start – @freyjawriter24 (T, the one where Crowley’s almost kissed Aziraphale plenty of times through history. Oh, y’all. Crowley’s emotions are laid so bare. The longing is so good. The scenes are all pretty original and interesting, and you can get a good sense for what Aziraphale’s feeling in these moments, too. Top-notch.)

TOUCH-STARVED/BODY WORSHIP/WINGS

60. The Power of Touch – @wordsintimeandspace (T, the one where Crowley needs some tending to and Aziraphale is more than happy to do it. It’s lots of kissing and touching and it gets intense but not too sexual. Also some lovely communication and boundary negotiation and it’s great.)

61. show a little skin (baby I’m begging) – @summerofspock (T, the one where Crowley can barely handle seeing Aziraphale flash a little skin now and then. Oh, y’all, it’s so much fun. Crowley is in over his head, someone please help him. Ankles, collarbones, FOREARMS. Oh lawd.)

62. You’re the Only Prayer I Need – @kedreeva (G, the one where Crowley’s shedding and Aziraphale helps. Featuring an absurdly large bathtub, wing bathing, and finally the peeling of snakeskin, which sounds so intensely satisfying, tbh. Simple, companionable, and nice.)

63. Of Firsts and Foremosts – @kedreeva (T, the one where Crawly finds Aziraphale cornered by Ligur and steps in. This one has really interesting bits of lore stuffed into it and a sweetly cautious blooming camaraderie between Crawly and Aziraphale; on top of that, there’s cuddling and wing care and both are extremely good.)

64. At Least Eleven Second First Times – @enjambament (M, the one where Aziraphale has to get used to being on Earth in a body again. M for risqué elements that brush up against smut without crossing over. This one is all about feeling things, from emotional to physical sensations, and how Aziraphale is overwhelmed by it all, but there’s also bits of the inherent diversity of the world and the significance of being able to feel things and on top of being secondhand-overstimulated, it drops you directly into Feels Town and it’s delicious.)

BONUS

65. a snake by any other name – @asideofourown (G, the one where Crowley’s snake form is spotted by a herpetology student and an unlikely companionship is struck. This one is from the view of an OC and is really cute, involving Crowley growing fond of a human with proper appreciation for serpentine charms. Also the OC and her girlfriend have a fun argument about what Crowley actually is and it’s adorable.)

66. Always Trust a Dog’s Judge in Character – notebooksandlaptops (T, the one where Warlock moves back to his London home and starts building a life. This one is so good, y’all; adult (ish, he’s nineteen) Warlock is such a delight and you can see Nanny Ashtoreth’s influence all over him. It’s even better when he meets Adam and forms the biggest crush known to man (good thing it’s reciprocated, that would have been awkward), and befriends the rest of the Them (Pepper in particular is to be feared and respected). A fic about growing up and finding yourself, and I love where it’s going.)

H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

67. In Peace I Will Both Lie Down and Sleep – @fizzybiscuits (G, the one where Aziraphale is having nightmares. This fic feels so organic—like a logical continuation of the show, or at least one of many directions it could take. Aziraphale having vivid bad dreams and NOT TALKING ABOUT IT is so on-brand, and Crowley getting worried out of his gourd is also on-brand. Vulnerable and sweet and soft, once the nightmares are dealt with.)

68. A Touch Like Sunlight – @just-quintessentially-me (T, the one where Crowley acts the hero like an idiot. This is Crowley’s vengeance against the Archangels and it’s heart-pounding; of course stuff goes off the rails pretty quickly, but even the stuff that goes right has tension in it. A great adventure, with an appearance from BAMF!Aziraphale.)

69. Chokecherry – unsmilingchuck (T, the one where Crowley helps clean up Aziraphale’s hands after a frankly awful punishment from Heaven. This fic feels calm, maybe more so when it’s revealed what it’s in the aftermath of, and Crowley is very methodical and meticulous in his care. It’s clear how much they care about each other and that’s always the jam.)

70. Thus saith the Lord – @themanicmagician (T, the one where angels can be drafted into Her service like a hive mind. Oh, folks, you want historical pain? You want emotional torment? You want a thrilling chase and a tender aftercare and a triumphant victory? You want to be in your friend’s house and hear the Plagues song from Prince of Egypt and almost have a complete breakdown bc you’re reliving this fic? Then join me in singing this one’s praises, because it delivers. It does not let up even for a second, once it gets going. This is probably one of the darkest fics I’ve ever read, but the ending balances it out. It’s great.)

71. In Somnis Veritas – PinkPenguinParade (T, the one where Aziraphale volunteers to help Crowley with his nightmares. Oh, y’all. Y’all, this one is so good. Just two immortal beings, working through their various traumas together. There’s pain and healing and a beautiful, beautiful ending. This fic hits all the right notes, it’s splendid.)

72. Incongruous States of Being – @zehwulf (T, the one where Aziraphale is a BAMF and that was never truly up for debate. Featuring an argument meant mostly for fun, and then a fight meant mostly for not-fun. Protective Aziraphale through the roof, gang. Very, very good. The tension is exquisite, and the characterizations are perfection. A wonderful take on Aziraphale and his abilities.)

73. Aim Your Arrow At The Sky – @trellanyx (T, the one where Aziraphale is a warrior and don’t you forget it. Warnings for some pretty graphic violence. This fic is not epic-length but it is epic-scope; it’s downright cinematic. The details are so crisp and the action so well-described, and threaded through it all is fierce, tender, desperate love. A wonderful read, especially if you want to see two particular Archangels get theirs.)

#good omens #good omens fic recs #mega gomens fic rec list #and now i sleep for a week #found a lot of these during a week i was off of work #gosh i read SO MUCH that week #i am DONE reccing fic in this format for a while #fulfilling but exhausting u kno

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dagon (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Uriel (Good Omens), Disposable Demon (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fluff, Bodyswap, Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Aziraphale loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens) ---

Back at it again with the Gift Fics!  this one for @apple-duty​ whom I love so very much, I hope you like it <3

The song prompt Apple gave me was I’ll Be Your Mirror by The Velvet Underground, so of course I wrote a body swap fic xD

You can read it on AO3 or the full fic is under the cut (but you’ll miss the very lovely poster; that's only on AO3)

---

The first thing Aziraphale is aware of is the stench.  Like rotting eggs mixed with bile mixed with month old trash with just a hint of lilac.  As if someone decided to pin all of their hopes and dreams on a multipack of Poundland air fresheners.

Also it’s wet.  The air feels damp; his clothes feel damp.  He can hear dripping coming from somewhere.  That constant trickle of a faucet drip, but one that never quite keeps to a pattern.  The kind where you expect the drip, but then it’s just a millisecond off course and grates on your nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

It’s a veritable assault on his senses.  After all, Aziraphale has standards.  He also has a throbbing pain in his head that he doesn’t quite remember where it came from.  He keeps his eyes screwed shut, trying to will the pain out of his head.

Think back, try to remember.  He’d been in the park with Crowley.  He’d had ice cream.  He liked ice cream.  No, focus back.  Angels; a kidnapping.  The Sound of Music?  Still sick of that one.  Then a crowbar.  Tickety-boo.  But it’s all backwards because…

Aziraphale finally opens his eyes.  Everything is dark, impossibly dark.  Sunglasses, of course.  Oh dear, that’s right, they’ve swapped faces.  He’s in Hell wearing Crowley’s face; laid out on a concrete slab in what appears to be a prison cell.

He sits up and takes stock of his surroundings: four concrete walls with no visible door, the concrete slab, and a poster on the wall.  The poster has a kitten hanging from a tree branch, it says “Hang in There!” at the top.  Underneath, in a scrawl, it says “The Worst Is Yet to Come” with a crude approximation of a smiley face1.  It’s unsettling at best, completely idiotic at worst.

He lies back down on the slab.  It’s uncomfortable, but far from the worst place he’s ever rested.  There’s nothing for it now, all he can do is wait.  Whatever denizens of Hell have been charged with capturing him will come back for him soon enough.

After all, “the worst is yet to come”.

He has to focus, he has to become Crowley.  This won’t be difficult, he’s known Crowley so long.  Aziraphale has memorized nearly everything there is to know about the demon - for thwarting purposes, obviously.

He knows the kinds of quips Crowley would make in the face of adversity.  How he carries himself around perceived authority.  How he walks like he’s not sure what exactly ‘hip bones’ are supposed to be.  

But he also knows Crowley’s kind heart and his clever mind.  He knows Crowley’s loyalty.  And it is loyalty, isn’t it?  He never went to Alpha-Centauri.  He never would have, not without Aziraphale along for the ride.

He knows how the lines around Crowley’s eyes crinkle differently when a smile is genuine.  How he stammers when he’s overwhelmed or embarrassed.  How when he’s had just a bit too much red he starts to hiss at the end of his words.  How he can captivate a room, hold it in the palm of his hand like an apple on offering.  How when he laughs, he laughs deep and full and melodic.

He knows so much about Crowley; the being in the world he holds most dear in this life.

He’ll have to channel all of that to keep Crowley safe, and he knows that right now Crowley is doing the same for him in Heaven.  They’ll survive this, they have to.  Aziraphale can reflect everything Crowley is right at them and win Crowley his freedom.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and a razor sharp memory comes back to him unbidden.  A church in 1941, the burning remains of a house of God that signalled the beginning of Aziraphale’s own awareness.  He’d been falling for a long time, but not from Grace.

He’d seen it, in Crowley’s flat the night before.  The eagle lectern from the church.  Sentimental old serpent.

When this is over, if they survive, there’s no need to hide any longer.  Their sides are perfectly aware of their “fraternizing”.  

If they get out of this, Aziraphale resolves to tell Crowley what he’s known for so long, in the deepest recesses of his angel’s heart.  He loves Crowley, with every fiber of his being that shouldn’t.  And when this is over, he’s going to tell him just that.

---

Ozone.  Overwhelming, nostril burning, ozone.  Like an overactive air conditioner.  And pine, but that particular artificial pine.  Cleaning solution.  Hovering over the surface like someone dumped an undiluted jug of it on the floor and just walked away.

And the light, it’s so harsh.  Hell is supposed to be harsh, but this is on another level.  He can’t see anything else for how bright the light is, these eyes that are not his are taking their sweet time adjusting.  He strains his wrists against the rope restraining him.  It’s rough and itchy, obviously imbued with some kind of celestial energy since he can’t will it away.

The room feels cold, like an unbearable chill.  But he can still feel himself sweating.  Like the worst waiting room in the known universe.  No temperature regulation to be had.  It’s ironic, he thinks, if this is supposed to be where you want to end up.  The chair that creaks every time he moves is not helping.  It’s so uncomfortable he wants to scream.  

He can’t, of course.  He’s bound and gagged.  By angels, of all things.  Figured his lot would go in for that before Heaven did.  Hell has several agents with those kinds of things as their purview (for pain and for pleasure, and for that weird place they intersect.)

Ah well, focus on something else.

The windows are a nice touch - floor to ceiling polished glass.  He can see all the wonders of the world from here, and even Crowley has to admit the view from the top is nice.  But it’s so empty.  A vast hall with no life in it whatsoever.  Where are they keeping all those alleged pure souls?  Not here, obviously.

It’s lonely, he realizes, with a twinge of affection for a certain ineffable being.  One that he’s currently wearing the face of.

No wonder the angel surrounds himself with books and food and the finer things.  There’s nothing here.  Nothing but overly bright and overly clean.

Aziraphale belongs in a dusty bookshop.  He belongs on Earth with the humdrum monotony of human life and the ever-changing majesty of human invention.  Not in this place.

This place that belittles him, makes fun of his hobbies, of his corporation, of his soft heart, of his do-gooder nature.  Everything that makes Aziraphale, well, Aziraphale.

This place never deserved him.  Never deserved an angel that cared about every being he came across, even so much as to cover a lowly demon with his wing in the rain; or who cares so much about humanity he’ll swan dive away and straight back down to Earth for an infinitesimal chance to save them all.

They’ve never deserved the one angel who truly is a being of pure love.  They were never his angel’s home.  Home doesn’t treat you like that; home is supposed to be a place of love.

He shakes his head.  Gotta play the part, he thinks.  He knows Aziraphale better than he knows himself.  Aziraphale has a few nervous tics, but underneath is a soldier.  A guardian charged with protecting the first of humanity.  A protector who has watched over the Earth and its inhabitants for longer than anyone or anything else (save for two).  

A being of so much immeasurable ethereal power that a mortal being could never comprehend his true form.  A being of so much love that it overwhelms even a demon who shouldn’t be able to sense that anymore.  A being who cares about things like crepes and Shakespeare and nonsense first editions of books no one even remembers anymore.

A being who cares about him.  Who cares about Crowley.  And is right now in Hell wearing his face and being strong for him.  

Crowley can do the same.  He can be a mirror image of Aziraphale, in every way.  He has to.

And when he gets out of here, the first thing he’s gonna do is finally, finally kiss his angel senseless.  Let him know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he is wanted, that he is loved, and that he is home.  Crowley will be there - for as long as Aziraphale would have him - to show him how wonderful he is, how beautiful he is, and how absolutely loved he is.

Even love from something wretched is better than the falsehood of this place.  Crowley had learned that the hard way in the early days.

But when this is over, he’ll be there to hold Aziraphale together, to be the light on the door that leads him home.

---

“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub sneered, “I sentence you to extinction via holy water.  Have you anything to say?”

This trial had been a farce at best.  Just evidence and an execution sentence.  But they had been prepared for this.  

“Well, yes,” ‘Crowley’ says after a bit of contemplation.  “This is a new jacket and I’d hate to ruin it.  Would you mind if I took it off?”

Beelzebub rolls their eyes and Dagon groans.  He hears Hastur mutter something about “flash bastards” under his breath.  Aziraphale turns and takes off the jacket, folding it neatly over a metal chair in the corner.

He spares a couple of passing glances to the tub full of holy water next to him, saying a silent prayer to no one that this works.  He can feel the residual energy radiating off of the water and he suppresses a shudder as he strips down to just Crowley’s socks and underwear.

He’s wearing his demon’s face and facing down the very thing he’s feared for so long would be Crowley’s undoing.  How long has he been terrified of this?  Ever since that horrid argument in 1862 he’s feared for the demon where holy water is concerned.  

The lengths Crowley had gone to to get it has scared him, but it had been worth it in the end.  Aziraphale can’t imagine a life without Crowley in it, and hopefully after this he won’t have to.

He moves to the tub, stands staring into the water.  It feels a bit like things coming full circle, at this point.  “Any time now, traitor,” Hastur calls to him, “We don’t have all day.”

He turns around, takes a deep breath, and falls in backwards with a dramatic splash.  Aziraphale is gripped by a momentary panic as he hears the tell tale pops and sizzles of holy water-induced destruction.  It soon becomes apparent that this is just the residual demonic energy on the floors and walls, sizzling away into the ether when it mingles with the splashed water.

Oh, that means this is going to be fun.  He can’t resist, tossing a bit of water towards the window of the demons staring at him.  Watching them scream and recoil.  He smirks in a way that he hopes fits on Crowley’s face.

“I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?”  Aziraphale asks to the room in general, finally turning to his supposed ‘jury of peers’.  He has to suppress a laugh.  Dagon is cowering behind Beelzebub, who looks like they just witnessed Gabriel trying to dance the salsa.  

“No?” he asks with an obvious lilt to his voice. When they don’t answer he goes back to his humming and splashing, being as ‘flash’ as he can possibly be.  

“He’s gone native,” Beelzebub croaks out while Dagon cowers behind them, “He isn’t one of us anymore.”

“So you’re probably thinking,” Aziraphale says with a flourish, draping himself over the edge of the tub as though he doesn’t know what bones are, “‘If he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?’”

He watches their faces, sees the fear underneath.  Angels can sense love, that’s true.  But they can sense other things, too.  Fear, in particular.  They’re meant to assuage fears, to calm and reassure.  But Aziraphale has been playing both sides for long enough in the Arrangement that he knows how to nurture that fear as well.

He stares Beelzebub right in their beady eyes, “And very, very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.”

“He’s bluffing, we can take him,” Hastur says, a bit too quickly to be casual, “One demon against the rest of Hell?  What’s he going to do?”  Aziraphale pays him no mind, Dukes of Hell are beneath Principalities anyway.  And none of the demons in Hell are fit to even look at Crowley’s face, as far as he’s concerned.

“Shut it!  Get him out of here, this’ll cause a riot,” Beelzebub shouts while rushing to block the window to the peanut gallery; Aziraphale honest-to-someone giggles.  Beelzebub keeps shouting, “What are you all looking at?  Nothing to see!  Nothing to see here!”

There are footsteps and a flickering of fluorescent lighting, and Aziraphale turns to see Michael, prim and proper as always, strolling down the hallway without a care.

“I came to bring back the - oh, Lord.”

Aziraphale almost wishes he had a camera phone, just so he could preserve the shocked look on the archangel’s face.  For days when he needs a good laugh

“Michael! Dude. Do us a quick miracle, will you?” He says, hand outstretched, not wanting to waste an opportunity and feeling emboldened by wearing Crowley’s face, “I need a bath towel.”

Michael hands him one in an instant, still looking shocked as anything.  The confidence that comes from being Crowley is exhilarating.  The more he gets away with, the bolder he is.  Aziraphale decides right then and there, he’s going to make sure they never, ever threaten Crowley again.  

“I think it would be better for everyone,” he puts on his best angelic fury voice, preying further on that seeping feeling of fear, “if I were to be left alone in the future.  Don’t you?”

He stares each of them down in turn, holding eye contact and glaring into their very souls.  He waits for each to nod in turn before deciding he’s satisfied.

“Right,” he says with a smirk and a wiggle (he is still him after all, even wearing Crowley’s face), before getting out of the tub and doing his best saunter towards the exit.

He heads for the elevator, stands still as a statue as he waits for it. He’s in such a hurry to leave he nearly runs into one of the Erics on his way in.  As soon as the doors close, he sinks against the elevator wall and sobs.   Aziraphale cries as he feels the worry wash away from him, the worry that’s plagued him for centuries now.  Crowley is finally free, and Aziraphale couldn’t be more relieved.

---

“Can I hit him?  I’ve always wanted to hit an angel.”

Of course Eric would want to take advantage of an opportunity.  Idiot that he is,

Sandalphon grins, gold tooth glinting in the harsh lighting.  “Go for it,” he says with contempt.  Aziraphale had told Crowley about earlier the day before, when the Archangels had cornered him in an alleyway.  Now it seemed they didn’t want to get their hands dirtier than necessary.

Eric stands in front of him, reeling his fist back like he’s gonna be able to do anything.  Lowly disposable demons, always wanna be above their station.  Crowley can’t break character, but he isn’t gonna let this asshole get a punch in.  

He stares coldly into Eric’s face, pouring every but of contempt he can without breaking the facade.  He can’t let them see him crack.  He can’t let them see Aziraphale crack.

He screws his angel’s face into what he knows Aziraphale to be.  Brave and steadfast, even in the face of adversity.  Never truly backing down when he’s up against the wall.  And he lets out one, teeny, tiny little smirk.  Just enough that only Eric would be able to see it.

“I...should be getting back,” Eric stammers, fear radiating in waves,”I’ll come and pick up the Hellfire in, what, an hour?”

“Barbecue will be over by then,” Uriel says with all of the enthusiasm of a uni student with a 5 AM math class.

Uriel makes her way over to him and unties the ropes on his wrists in one movement, “Up.”

And he does jump up, because that’s what Aziraphale would do.  He adjusts his clothing - waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - same way Aziraphale has always done.  The nervous tic that’s been his calling card for millennia.

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to reconsider?” Crowley knows the angel would make one last attempt, one last gesture to give them the opportunity to do the right thing.  “We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven’s sake.”

“Well for Heaven’s sake,” Gabriel says with his corporate smile, “we make an example out of traitors.  So...into the flame.”

Crowley stares at the pillar of hellfire for a beat, more than a little concerned with if their plan will work or not.  He thinks of his angel, burning in hellfire, burning out of existence.

He thinks of a bookshop.  Of a Queen record melting to a gramophone.  Of linen pages and leather binding going up in smoke.  Of himself, on the floor, soaked to the bone, screaming to no one and nothing.  Of an angel shaped hole in his life.

Crowley thinks of how relieved he was, sitting there drunk on Taliskers, when Aziraphale had materialized in front of him.  Not himself again, not yet, but safe.  Where are you, wherever it is, I’ll come find you.  He’d meant it, and Crowley had found his angel again at the end of the world.

He’d screamed through fire, he’d drove through fire, and now he’d walk through fire.  All for his angel.

“Right, well, lovely knowing you all,” Crowley says, knowing Aziraphale would be kind, even to the last.  “May we meet again on a better occasion.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already,” the smile that Gabriel gives him now makes him want to vomit; it’s so callous and fake.  He stares Gabriel right in the eyes as he steps forward.  The heat from the pillar is warm and comforting; he’s a demon, after all, he was born anew in Hellfire after the fall.

Crowley takes a deep breath and walks in, letting his body adjust to the heat.  It’s comforting, in a twisted sort of way.  Like a nice screaming hot bath at the end of a particularly difficult day.

Crowley sighs and rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck a couple times for good measure.  Hellfire is surprisingly good for the joints, when it doesn’t kill you instantly.  Gabriel and the other archangels are staring at him, stupid gaping looks on their faces.

What’s a field trip to heaven without a little bit of fun at the expense of some right bastards?

He breathes Hellfire right in their faces, laughing as they scamper back liked spooked rats.  He thinks to himself that it’s a shame that the Hellfire didn’t hit any of them.

Sandalphon looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin.  Uriel is shivering.  Gabriel is wearing his fake corporate smile again, trying to find a way to salvage the situation.

“It may be worse than we thought,” he stammers out, Sandalphon hiding behind him like a scared little kid.

“What...is he?” Uriel asks, the only one with a level head in this situation.

“You see,” Crowley says in a multi-layered version of Aziraphale’s voice, “I don’t think you want to know what I am. Because the less you know, the less danger you’ll be in.”

Crowley weaves his hand in front of him, almost like an orchestral conductor, swirling the Hellfire between his fingers.  Shaping it into little spheres and then banishing them back to the rest of it, acting for all the world like he doesn’t care.

“Gabriel, we need to go to damage control,” Uriel says, tugging on Gabriel’s sleeve, “If word gets out about this.”

“You’re right, yes, of course,” Gabriel stammers, rubbing his temples with one hand, “It’ll start riots, I know.  Fine, Aziraphale, just...get out of the fire.”

“Oh are you sure?  I’m just working on my tan a bit, it’s ever so dreary in my bookshop, I don’t get much sun you know.”

“Just leave, Aziraphale!” Gabriel shouts, face red and perfectly done hair falling out of place.  That alone was worth the trip, to break the composure of the Archangel Fucking Gabriel (what a prick).

“Ah, right then, I’ll just…” he steps gingerly out of the fire, adjusts his clothing again (waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - every single time), and worries his hands together as he heads for the exit.

He gets in the elevator that will take him back to the lobby, where he’ll hurry to the prearranged rendezvous point as fast as he can.  As soon as the door closes, he collapses against the wall and laughs.  Big, full, gargantuan laughs.  Soon enough his sides is hurting and he hadn’t even known their corporations were capable of that.  

Aziraphale is free now, and Crowley has never been happier.

---

Aziraphale fidgets anxiously on the park bench.  Crowley should’ve been back by now, he’s sure of it.  He’d been half expecting to meet him in the elevator or the lobby, if he’s honest.  Then again, Heaven does like to drag things out.

It’s all he can do to keep from jumping from the bench when he sees his own usual corporeal form heading towards him.  They did it, they survived.  They averted the apocalypse and tricked both Heaven and Hell.  And now they can spend the rest of their days on their own side; together.

A place that Aziraphale has wanted to be for a very long time.  He settles himself as Crowley sits next to him on the bench.

“So,” Crowley says in the angel’s voice, but sounding so very much like himself anyway, “D’you think they’ll leave us alone now?”

“At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.”  Aziraphale is practically vibrating off the park bench.  He’d made his promise to himself, he’s going to tell him.  Just, not while he’s wearing his dear demon’s face.  “Anyone looking?”

Crowley presses fingers to his temples and scans the area, Aziraphale fidgets with a ring that doesn’t exist and shoots a look skyward despite knowing he doesn’t need to any longer.

“No,” Crowley says, sounding a little distracted in his own right, as he extends a hand, “swap back then?”

They link hands and Aziraphale feels the atoms on the outer edges of his corporeal form rearrange themselves back to his usual soft and stuffy self.  He shakes out the kinks just a little while Crowley cracks his neck next to him.

Aziraphale looks over at him, noting that he seems stiffer than usual.  Must be the swap.  Even if it was just outward appearances, it’s still rather taxing.  Crowley catches him staring and reaches up to change the collar on his jacket back to red.

“A tartan collar, really?”

“Tartan is stylish!”

Crowley just rolls his eyes at him, and Aziraphale decides it’s now or never.

“Crowley, I have something I really must tell you,” he’s glad to have his own visage back, if only so the ring exists again for him to fidget with.  This should be easy, but what if he’s wrong?

“Whatsit then, angel?” Crowley says, raising an eyebrow, and oh suddenly it is so very, very easy.

“I’m sure you must already know, I don’t see how you wouldn’t, I’ve never been good at hiding it, but Crowley,” Aziraphale can feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.  He’s heard of happy crying before, but never experienced it himself, but this feeling of release so close to saying those three simple words must be what that’s like.  “Crowley, I lo-”

He doesn’t get to finish.

---

Crowley is, at best of times, a bundle of anxiety and nerves.  Today was no exception.

He hadn’t been sure when the time would be to make his move, but then Aziraphale had looked at him like that and every bit of resolve he might’ve had holding him back faded away.  

Aziraphale had been saying something, Crowley hadn’t really been paying attention, but suddenly it didn’t matter.  All that mattered were those lips and his lips and the tears in the corners of his angel’s eyes and making them go away.

His hands were on Aziraphale’s face before he could tell them not to be, and their lips were crashing together soon after.

So now here they sit - on a park bench, lips locked together.  Aziraphale is frozen stiff as a statue and suddenly Crowley has a very sharp and very real fear that he’s gone to fast again.

He breaks off and hides his face in his hands, sunglasses pushed up into his hairline, “Christ, fuck, ‘m sorry angel, shouldn’t have done that.”

“Crowley, my dear-”

“Won’t happen again, promise you that,” he just can’t stop stammering.  “I mean, now you know, so if you want time or something or for me to fuck off just say the word.”

“Crowley,” Azirpahale says louder this time, gingerly touching Crowley’s wrists, “dear would you please put down your hands.”

Aziraphale wraps his fingers around Crowley’s wrists, tugging his hands away from his face.  Everything is a bit blurry and Crowley realizes he’s crying.

He blinks the tears away and sees Aziraphale, smiling that bright and wonderful smile that Crowley doesn’t always get to see.  

“There you are,” Aziraphale says, running a thumb along Crowley’s cheek to wipe away a tear that dared to escape it’s confines.

“Stop it,” Crowley says, trying to look away but finding himself unable, “don’t give me that look.”

“What look would that be?”

“You’re looking at me like you...you…”

“Love you?” Aziraphale asks and Crowley could swear the angel’s eyes sparkle.

“Yeah, that,” Crowley says softly as Aziraphale continues stroking his cheek, “you can’t love me.  I’m a demon, twisted and unkind that’s me.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says cupping the demon’s cheek, “you couldn’t be more wrong about that if you tried.”

And then, miracle of miracles, Aziraphale leans in and kisses him.  Aziraphale is actually kissing him.  And he’s kissing Aziraphale back.  And Aziraphale is kissing him back again and what a revelation that is.

There’s no telling how long they sit there, it’s not like either of them have to breathe.  When they finally break apart, Aziraphale’s voice is barely a breath against his lips.

“I love you, Crowley, I’ve loved you for so very, very long.”  Aziraphale tilts his forehead against Crowley’s and for some reason the intimacy of that is more overwhelming than the kiss they just shared.  “Wily old serpent, light to my darkness, my darling, my dearest.”.  

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says reverently and wistfully, drunk on love and belonging, “Aziraphale, you never belonged there, you’re so much better than them.  I’ll spend the rest of my days proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says, kissing him again, “I’d like nothing better.”

“Love you, angel,” Crowley says, peppering kisses all over Aziraphale’s face, getting to hear that laugh that sounds like daybreak, “let me tempt you to lunch.”

Aziraphale laughs, full of hope and full of love, the way Crowley thinks he should always be able to laugh.  “I do believe, my darling,” he says as he kisses Crowley on the nose, and it should not be as adorable or endearing as it is, “a table for two at the Ritz has just miraculously opened up.”

As they stroll through the park, hand in hand for all the world and Heaven and Hell to see, Aziraphale feels like he’s home for the first time.  Here, with Crowley, finally allowing himself to bask in the glow of a love unconditional and patient.  And finally Crowley can feel the love that’s been his all along; the unyielding adoration of his angel.  Faintly in the distance, they can hear a nightingale singing in Berkley Square.

#link #good omens #my fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #hope you like it Apple!

[the-accidentals]

The accidentals- chapter 3

Laura is too stubborn for her good, she knew she was ill, she felt like death and she looked like it but even a practically begging Preet wouldn't get her near A&E, she hated the place, it holds too many memories. 

"I'm just going to head home and call the doctors, it's probably just the flu" Laura murmured, her head banging, that was new. Preet helped Laura up and tried to hold her weight but the  firefighting meant she was significantly heavier than preet expected. They stumbled out of the cafe, Laura wishing she could walk by herself but legs would barely move and couldn't hold her weight from pure exhaustion . she could hear preet gasping for air as she practically dragged her through the city, the word was spinning and endless, she didn't have a clue what was happening, each breath felt like a burning sword piercing her chest, each touch burnt.

Laura opens her eyes, when did she close them? The sweat covers every part of her and her brain is trying to claw its way out of her skull. She was in a car but not hers, Preet was driving, following directions to somewhere, 

“ where are we going” Laura rasped, her throat dry. She wasn't really sure if she even cared any more, she just wanted it to all stop. 

“ No A&E” she called, panic rising through her spent body, fear in her eyes. Preet chucked nervously

“Urgent care it is then” concern pressed into Preet’s face. Laura looked more ill enough to be in hospital but she wasn't about to argue with a muscled firefighter, even if said women couldn't lift her arms. 

The car had finally stopped and Laura realised that Preet was trying to help her get out of the car, then she felt bile rise up her throat and the overpowering acidic smell told her what was about to happen. 

….

“I'm sorry” Laura mumbles into a paper bag as she feels Preet coming to sit next to her. The waiting room was fairly quiet, people scattered around in little family huddles. She felt a comforting hand rub her back as she threw up the remains of her lunch. She can't remember when but her hair had been tied up in a lopsided bun. 

“ I have a work meeting soon that I need to go to but I promise I will be back as soon as it's over” Preet blurted out embarrassed.

She felt like an idiot, only an hour before they were talking about it and she had completely forgotten, she swatted Preet away with little strength she had, swallowing bile down she croaked out.

“ don't be late just for me”, a weak smile stops at her lips, sweat visibility running down her face, making strands of hair stick.

 Preet wringing her hands as she grabbed her work bag, not caring that her shoes were stained or that she hadn't eaten all morning, she mind was full of worries. As she walked to the door she stared back at the young blonde, her breathing so worn down, her shoulders hunched over, even from across the room you could feel the panic throbbing from her tall athletic body, an unspoken worry, they both knew that whatever was happening it wasn't going to be over quickly. 

A indistript voice called into the waiting room “Laura Adams? ”

Aching Laura pulled her body into the open consultation room, her eyes blinking at the harsh office lights. There sat an exhausted doctor, typing away at his computer, his suit jacket clearly abandoned for a beige cardigan that hung loosely to his skinny figure. 

“Sit” he smiled, bags clear under his eyes. She collapsed into a worn out navy chair. She fiddled with her shirt as she sat down, rattling off her symptoms her voice started to seize up, sweat forming on her already moist brow, she felt a calloused pair of hands hand he a small cup with some water in it, shakily she started to sip at it, tremors buzzing through her body, she hadn't the energy to fight it, she lent back into the musty chair, her eyes trained on the ceiling. She could feel it happening again, the fire building up to burn her body down, she wanted to die, sure it would be less painful. Then the doctor spoke, firmly and calm

“ try to relax, not hold anything in” he started loudly breathing, encouraging her to follow along. She was sure it was longer this time, the pain petered away but didn't leave, festering in the back of her mind 

“Laura please look at me” the doctor was trying to hide panic but staying professional but it barely worked. She opened her eyes and looked down, her body glowing red hot, like a mental pole just out of a fire, as she moved  sparks came flying out, her fingers alight, fire whispering out of the tips. Her hair was a glow, like a smouldering fire and with every movement the colour fading, soon her skin was normal, just flesh and bones, no fire and not a hint of sweat teased her fingers as Laura searched desperately for something to explain what just happened. 

1941-September 9th. 

I walked out of the kitchen, the house fairly quiet, the quiet voice of reading floating down from Rupert’s room. I slowly walk over to the heavy office door, hand resting on the ornate doorknob, I knock before entering even though it's my office and Ernt has told me I need not. I walk into a messy office, writing, drawings and paint everywhere, an easel in the corner, waiting to dry, “Unsere letzte hoffnug: HITLER” a bright white against the dark painting . I simply hand him a cup of strong coffee, he prefers to work well into the night and I knew today was no different. He smiled up at me, his body slumping back, circular glasses low on his nose. He was sitting behind the desk, his hand gliding across a drawing pad. 

I pulled the only chair in the room so I was next to Ernest, and I pulled out a cigar. 

"you realise I have to work tonight," Ernt sighed, trying to hide his grin as he wheeled himself around the doctor, grabbing a different notepad and flipping through the ideas.

They stay in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet, only broken by the scratching of a pen and the faint hum of the pipes.

"have we had any visitors this month?" I questioned, it lingered in the air, like the smoke from my cigar. 

“Plenty, hence the messy office” his hands pointing out the mess of papers on his desk and the piles stacked into the corners, its true, it was rare for any of Ernt’s space to be tidy but this was a huge mess, making it impossible to find anything if you didn't know where it was. I sighed, all stress leaving my body as he wormed his hands into my blonde hair, running his hands in circles. I look up at him, dark bags hiding behind his glasses, golden hair cut short. Running my hand over his lips I realised how dry they were, I could feel his breathing on my check,a mere inch away. It's desperate, we never have long. Our eyes flick onto each other, his tongue grouping for more after so long apart. I slid off my chair and swung myself onto him, forcing him to lean further into his wheelchair. The love and passion was thick in the air, the taste of coffee and peas not stopping me leaning further in. a small moan escaped the painter as my tongue rolled down his neck . The bitter smell of ink and smoke lustfully dancing around us. 

“I missed you” Ernt murmured, trying to catch his breath as I undid the top of his shirt. I hummed as he did something devious, my eyes rolling back. It was evil, wrong, sinful and traitorous and the both loved it. 

This chapter is slightly longer than the last one, I hope you like it :) if you have any advice please tell me!

#the accidentals #story #lgbt #lgbt story #history #ww2 #superpowers #fire #writing

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Love Isn’t Always on Time Part Five

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

Notes: Uuuuuh none

Not beta-read

Summary: It was getting harder and harder to ignore what would be.

Warnings: Also none? 

Rating: T (this may change)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

2012

“How long has it been?” Coulson turned to see Fury striding into the lab with Hill close behind.

“Twelve minutes, sir.”

“Any signals from the agent?”

“None.”

“And no way to communicate.”

“No, sir.” Coulson hesitated.

“You and Director Pierce agreed-“

“I know what we agreed, agent,” Fury snapped. Coulson closed his mouth, biting back a retort as they all turned to look at the still-smoking framework of the machine.

--

1941

It was getting harder and harder to ignore what would be. I woke up on November 7th knowing that the attack on Pearl Harbor was a month away. Everything in me wanted to warn someone, somehow, but there was no way to do so without sounding like an absolute lune, or being looked into. I wasn’t exactly there through legal means in the eyes of this government.

Besides, if I found a way to stop the States from joining the war, who knew what effect that would have on the future?

I stood in my alley, eyeing the headlines on the newspaper. I’d considered going to Europe to aid where I could, but visas were hard to come back these days, and required official documents that I did not have.

I glanced up when I heard the sound of people’s voices approaching. I glanced up at the sound, watching as a few people passed by before I lowered my eyes back to the paper. I glanced down at my watch.

3:10.

I took a deep breath, rolling the newspaper up and tossing it into a trash bin with more force than necessary.

Why was I still doing this? It had been five years. I was never making it home.

——-

“Did we... do something?” The crest-fallen-kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face made me feel worse than rotten.

I’d stopped seeing the boys months ago, cancelling dinner a couple of times, changing the route I walked home. Distance, I’d told myself. It was safer that way. Bucky would be shipped off in a couple of years, Steve would be injected with the serum, and I would lose them both. I’d thought it would be easier to cut myself off from them well before it could happen. Maybe I wouldn’t feel the loss so sharply.

“No, of course you didn’t,” I said, shaking my head, “I’m sorry, I... Just needed a little time to myself.” Steve didn’t look entirely convinced, lips pursing.

“Look, if it’s because of me and Buck—“ he started. I could recognize it by then, that ‘I can do this all day’ set of his jaw. I hated that he was always ready for a fight, but in this case I could understand.

I’d walked in on the two of them getting hot and heavy: Steve straddling Bucky’s thighs; Bucky’s hands under Steve’s shirt, exposing his pale skin and ribcage, small and fragile as a baby bird; Steve’s hands fisted in Bucky’s hair, holding him like he’d die if Bucky pulled away. And then, panic. Bucky nearly dropped Steve, standing to tell me that it wasn’t what it looked like, with Steve staring me down behind him, daring me to disagree or have a problem with it.

I’d reassured them both that I didn’t care, that it was fine. Unfortunately it’d coincided with my decision to isolate myself only a week later.

“I told you, whatever you and Bucky get up to is your business. Doesn’t change how I see either of you,” I reassured. His shoulders sagged where they’d tensed.

“What is it, then?”

I didn’t answer for a moment. I couldn’t. I was filled with so much anger and sadness and hurt and regret that they were choking me. I hadn’t even realized I’d started crying until Steve was pulling me into a hug and telling me not to cry.

I couldn’t stop it. I’d felt so alone for so long, before Bucky and Steve. Separating from them  had been more painful than I’d thought it would be. I pulled away from Steve, frustratedly pushing my tears away.

“Sorry,” I mumbled before swallowing thickly, “I haven’t um... haven’t been feeling so well.”

“Think Bucky and I could make you feel a bit better?” The hopefulness in Steve’s tone made me smile, and I nodded, letting him take me by the hand.

——-

“You’re gonna catch your death,” Bucky was worrying over both of us now. It had started to rain on our way back to their apartment, and neither Steve or I were dressed for it. Between that and the November chill, we’d both been shivering by the time we arrived.

Steve caught it worse— he always did. He’d changed and been bundled into a blanket while I’d wrung my hair out over the sink.

“Let’s get you something dry to wear,” Bucky said, leading the way back to his room. I followed, arms wrapped around myself. Bucky rifled through his drawers, pulling out a Henley and a pair of long drawers.

“Here. You can hang up your clothes and your uh... Underthings over there,” he waved over to a small rack in the corner of the room. I nodded.

“Thanks,” I said softly. He nodded, stepping closer and taking my face in his hands.

“Do us a favor and don’t fall off the Earth like that again, huh? We missed you.” I felt tears spring up in my eyes again, unable to help it, and ducked my head to hide them from Bucky. He pressed a kiss to my hair, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

“Get your wet clothes off let’s get you warmed up.”

When I re-emerged from Bucky’s room, I found Steve and Bucky curled up on the couch, speaking in low voices. I stood quietly, fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt, unsure of what to do with myself. Steve spotted me first, smiling, and scooted back, creating space between himself and Bucky. 

I hesitantly walked around the couch, hesitantly lowering myself into to space left. Bucky and Steve crowded in, pulling their near threadbare blanket over me. Steve’s nose was cold; Bucky’s arm was warm as it wrapped around me. I rested one hand on each of their legs, sinking back into the cushions of their couch and feeling whole.

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