Getting caps for him was far more difficult than it needed to be

Baby Barnes - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary : Reader is pregnant with Bucky’s child, and she’s scared shitless of telling him. 

This is part of some sort of a serie I write, where the reader is afraid to say she’s pregnant to her s/o basically. Here’s the one for Cap’ : Baby Rogers, for Wolverine : Baby Logan, and for Batman : Baby Wayne. For some reason, Bucky was the most difficult to write about…hope you’ll still like it :

(My masterlist blog here :


Pregnant. You were pregnant. That’s what the two little vertical lines meant. Positive. Fuck. What the Hell were you gonna do ? 

You toss the test in the corner of your bathroom, and it joins the twenty other test you took. You know, just to be sure…What the Hell were you gonna do ? 

How were you going to tell Bucky ? 

Ever since Iron Man discovered your boyfriend killed his mother (it wasn’t his fault, he was brainwashed !), and ever since the government decided to control superheroes more, ending the already fragile friendship between Steve and Tony…You and Bucky never stayed in the same place for long. 

You had been in Helsinki, Finland, for already two weeks, and that was already a miracle…you usually never stayed at one place more than a few days. 

This wasn’t a life for a baby, always on the run, never able to stay in the same place for long etc etc…and yet, you wanted it. You wanted it so bad. Because you craved for a (somewhat) normal life with Bucky. For a time where you wouldn’t have to move so much. Of course, things would never be easy, Bucky had some massive PTSD but…Was it too much to ask to not be chased all the time ? It was probably. 

When you started to get serious with Bucky, you knew what you were getting into…he even warned you, and tried to push you away. And yet you stayed. 

You were sitting in the bathroom, trying to fight your tears…Crying wasn’t going to help. You knew you couldn’t keep that baby. You’ll just have to…

-(Y/N) ? Bucky ? Anyone’s home ? 

Steve. That was Steve’s voice. You finally left the bathroom to go meet with your friends. 

-It’s hardly “home” Cap’, you know.

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We Sang Along To The Start of Forever

*click thru to read on ao3

written by: Emily | @prosciuttoe

prompt: ‘i’m a prince/ss from a small country nobody’s heard of and i’m in college pretending not to be royal and you’re another student who’s always calling me out on my bs’ for anonymous

word count: 7973

Going to college is one of those things that Clarke has been preparing for her entire life. She has to really, considering that an extensive amount of research and preparation is required when you’re the Princess of a dated and stupidly antiquated form of government.

(Granted, the extent of her research only goes as far as to adding The Princess Diaries to her Netflix queue, but technicalities.)

Or: Clarke’s college experience would be a lot more pleasant if Bellamy Blake stopped trying to figure her out.


Going to college is one of those things that Clarke has been preparing for her entire life. She has to really, considering that an extensive amount of research and preparation is required when you’re the Princess of a dated and stupidly antiquated form of government.

(Granted, the extent of her research only goes as far as to adding The Princess Diaries to her Netflix queue, but technicalities. )

Still, none of it could have prepared her for Bellamy Blake.

The first time she meets him, he’s arguing with the professor about the required reading list.

It’s not like she means to listen in on their conversation, but he’s one of those people that you can’t help but notice—all bronzed skin and muscles and artfully mussed hair. Coupled with the way he’s furiously gesticulating with his hands and the frazzled expression on his face, and, well. She’ll admit that she’s sufficiently intrigued.

“This is a Politics and Literature course, Mr. Blake,” the professor huffs, exasperated. “The whole point of the course involves looking at how fiction helps understand and express politics.”

The guy— last name Blake, Clarke reminds herself— looks distinctly put out by that. “And I don’t have a problem with that,” he points out, folding his arms across his chest. “What I do have a problem with is how all the books on the reading list are drawn from the same historical and cultural setting.”

A quick glance at the syllabus confirms it, but —

“Actually,” she pipes up, tapping at the sheet before her, “The White Tiger is set in India, so…”

He turns the full-force of his glare on her, then, brow arched. “It’s one novel on a list of twelve,” he says, dismissive. “That’s hardly enough.”

I agree, she doesn’t get to say, before he’s sweeping his gaze over her — disdain clear as he takes in the MacBook perched on her lap, to the watch strapped to her wrist, and all the way down to her newly polished shoes.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Princess,” he says, venomous, and she can practically feel her hackles rising in response.

Bristling, she opens her mouth, a retort already forming on her tongue, when she receives a swift kick to the ankle, startling her enough that she squeaks instead.

Scowling, she shifts her gaze over to Roan. A bodyguard had been one of the stipulated conditions to this whole arrangement, and he’d been her pick mostly because she’s gotten used to his hulking presence over the years. There’s also the added bonus factor of his notorious unflappability and calm even in the most trying of situations—which explains why he’s currently regarding her with nothing but an arched brow and a pointed widening of his eyes; a wordless reminder of the need to be inconspicuous. Or at least subtle enough to not bring attention to herself (and by extension, her status) on the first day of school.

Slumping over in her seat, she relents, hiding her glower behind a curtain of hair.

It doesn’t seem to placate Blake all that much, if the irritated half-snort he gives is any indication. Still, he skulks back to his seat, plopping down in the chair directly behind hers.

The first half an hour of class passes by without issue, and she finds herself relaxing halfway through, against her better judgment, focusing on the lecture itself and jotting down notes during the lulls. Her gaze drifts on over to Blake, from time to time, but only because he’s one of the few seated within her vicinity. His handwriting is a angry scrawl, and she thinks she catches a glimpse of a B in his first name as well. When he’s not scribbling out notes or shooting everyone else dirty looks, he’s chewing on the cap of his pen, fingers tapping out a distracting rhythm on the tabletop.

He catches her gaze soon after, and she flushes at the realization that he caught her staring.

“What?” she challenges, before he can get a word out. “You have something to say to me?”

“Not really,” he smirks, his gaze roving over her once more, lingering at the ID badge she has slung over her neck. “So. You’re a freshman.”

It’s a statement rather than a question, but she nods anyway.

“Wow,” he drawls. There’s a kind of smugness to it that suggests that he’s gotten exactly what he wanted from her affirmation alone, and it makes her want to do questionable things, like stomp on his foot. “That’s pretty impressive, considering how this course has a required class standing that I’m sure a freshman like yourself has yet to fulfill.”

It’s difficult to keep her surprise from showing at that, and she has to bite at her lip to keep from gaping. Shit. It’s certainly not unexpected, though, considering her mother’s influence, and Clarke had only skimmed through the course catalogue before picking out the courses that appealed to her most. Taking a deep breath, she shoots him a tight smile, praying that it comes off convincing. “Well, I guess I had enough transferral credits.”

You’re a transfer?” he scoffs, narrowing his eyes over at her. “Where from?”

She blinks, her gaze landing on Roan for a split-second. “Mecha,” she says smoothly, the lie coming easy. “But I was looking for a change in scenery, so.”

“You transferred from Mecha,” he says, dubious, “to Ark U?”

“That’s right,” she says, jutting her chin out defiantly. “Like I said, I needed a change.”

He mulls over that, his expression contemplative. Then, with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, he says, “You know, you could have just admitted that you’re a trust fund kid and I would have let it go, right?”

This time, she can’t quite hold back on her offended gasp. “What?

“Wait, I think I got it,” he continues, his voice taking on a mocking edge. “You have a parent on the college admissions board.”


“So, they made a sizable donation to the school and I’m going to see a—” he pauses, squinting over at her ID, “—Clarke Griffin wing in a few months, right? Arts or Sciences, you think?”

Neither,” she hisses, seething. Vaguely, she’s aware that everyone else is getting up from their seats, the rising noise level signalling that class is over. “God, I don’t even know why I’m still standing here trying to justify myself to you, when—”


The voice snags at her attention, and she turns away from him to look at the source of the intrusion. She’s pretty, Clarke thinks, with startling green eyes, a sharp jaw and hair trailing down to her back, and it doesn’t occur to her that it’s Blake she’s referring to until he says, “I’ll be there in a minute, O.”

Well. At least she finally can put a name to the face.

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Nothing But My Way

Inspired by @spiritusignis ‘s headcanon about certain events after Jack and Bitty come out. I hope I did your HCs justice.

 It had been a few months (okay, four months and three weeks, but who was counting?) since Jack and Bittle came out to the NHL, and honestly, Jack couldn’t complain. He got to have his boyfriend on his arm at media events, he wasn’t worried about being outed every time he and Bittle grabbed coffee, and most importantly, nothing catastrophic had happened. He was allowed to have this. He could have his A and his team and his boyfriend and his life, all at once, and nobody was going to take it away from him.

Of course, not everyone was as welcoming as the Falcs. Jack didn’t really mind the checks; everyone wanted to get in a hit at Bad Bob’s son, so he’d been getting smacked around in the rink for a decade. He barely noticed an uptick in physical aggression, and Bitty always had the cutest worried face when Jack got back from a rough game. But the verbal shit was something else.

(continued under the read more)

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Sweet Like Sugar Venom by @aknightfornawt

“Where are you?”

She looks behind her at the roadside restaurant with its buzzing neon sign. “Peaches? Across from that flower shop on the…”

“God, you owe me,” Jon says.

Jon x Sansa Clueless AU

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Captain America 76th Anniversary Celebration Post

The very first Captain America comic has a release date of March 1941, so in order to celebrate the 76th Anniversary of our beloved Steven Grant Rogers, I have asked Tumblr users to submit their favorite Cap comic panels, art, quotes, pictures, meta, gifs, and/or write-ups on what Captain America means to them. And here is what Cap’s fans have to say… (please feel free to reblog and add your own favorite Steve Rogers moments, etc. to this post).

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[click to go to ao3]
dear evan hansen
evan hansen/jared kleinman
1755 words


suicide attempt mention
panic attack (really just one sentence that goes “evan has a panic attack.”)
post-canon, canon compliant


they tip each other and pour it all out / they talk about the forty-foot oak tree

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Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Word Count: About 2400

Warnings: Swearing, FLUFF, some kid being a dick- harassment

Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: The reader decides the three of them need a break and takes the boys to a baseball game after a hunt. But the reader is in for a surprise when what she thought was going to be only a fun night with her two favorite boys, turns out to be more than she expects. The man she has loved for years decides he’s gathered the courage to tell her how he feels about her.

A/N: For @bkwrm523 ‘s 30 prompts challenge, I had a lot of fun writing this and was secretly glad that the deadline was March because it takes me absolutely forever to get a fic out. Anyways, my prompt was “I need more excuses to eat cheese”, not gonna lie, this one was a little daunting because I had no idea what to do with it! (I did change it a bit to nacho cheese so I hope that’s okay) Hope you enjoy!

“I need more excuses to eat nacho cheese,” You turned to see Dean shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth. “This stuff is like liquid gold.” He said, bits of food falling from his cheeks onto his New York Mets shirt you had bought a few minutes ago. You laughed.

Dean seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the Mets game you had convinced them to attend so far. The boys definitely deserved a break, the werewolf pack the three of you had followed to the big Apple had proved to be difficult.  Truth was, you weren’t some huge fan of baseball, but upon remembering a few games spent in the summer sun of the past, you decided it would be fun. The smell of hotdogs and the roaring of the crowd was exciting as a kid, even if you didn’t know what was going on in the game, it was still time well spent with your family.

“Can you at least act like an adult?” Sam chuckled on your other side, shifting in his seat to get a better view of his brother who had currently brought his shirt up to his face, licking the cheese that had made it may down the Mets logo. “Dude what else do you want me to do? I am not wasting perfectly good cheese!”

You threw back your head as you laughed once again and Dean smacked the bill of your backward baseball cap causing it to fly into your lap. “Hey shut up! You’re the one who dropped her ice cream on her seat and then ate what was salvageable!”

“But I didn’t lick it off the chair! And an ice cream here is like five bucks, I would’ve eaten it even if it fell on the ground.”

Dean was the one laughing now and Sam muttered something next to you about how many people use these seats, about how many germs you had ingested.

It was currently the top of the third inning, still pretty early in the game, and you could tell the boys were already enjoying themselves. This was such as great idea. The best part of the game wasn’t just the atmosphere of excitement but the fact you got to see the boys smile and have fun. You were sick of their ‘all work, no play’ attitude.

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take this burden - part 22

Jian Yi and Zhengxi.

[ leave a trace - CHVRCHES ]


Jian Yi liked to think about their first time.

Zhengxi did too.

But they rarely talked about it.

Jian Yi had spent so many years desperately wanting his best friend.

Not just sexually, necessarily.

He just…wanted him.

After awhile, being friends wasn’t enough.

And, after a while, after being turned down so very many times- it was time to move on.

No one but Jian Yi knows the extent of the…troubles he had with his first boyfriend.

Not even Zhengxi.

But he knew enough to understand why Jian Yi was so immediately protective of Mo Guan Shan.

Zhengxi came to feel the same way almost immediately.

When Jian Yi was 17 years old he met a man that seemed to be pretty decent boyfriend material.

People like that often do.

He realized he was wrong quickly, swallowed his pride and told Zhengxi.

The next day he chose to bail his best friend out of jail and didn’t bother to visit the other man in the hospital.

Having had plenty of time alone with nothing to do but think, the first thing Zhengxi did when they stepped back into the sunshine was embrace Jian Yi.

The first thing he said was ‘I’m sorry.’

The second thing he did was hold Jian Yi’s face in his hands and kiss him until a police officer told them to clear out.

The second thing he said was ‘I love you.’

Things moved slowly between them.

Agonizingly slowly.

He Tian thought he was suffering on day four.
Oh, please.

It took the two of them a year.

It was an agreement they’d made.

Jian Yi was terrified that Zhengxi was doing this out of guilt, or just to make him happy.

Zhengxi couldn’t stand the thought of irrevocably destroying their friendship, or push him too far too fast.

It was all hand holding and relatively innocent kisses for the first little while.

That graduated to small displays of public affection and a bit more contact.

They’d both taken to masturbating before meeting up.

Four months passed at a snail’s pace.

They’d moved on to careful hand jobs.

Six months in they moved in together, staying in separate rooms.

Eight progressively painful months passed.

They got very, very, drunk and Jian Yi gave Zhengxi a sloppy blowjob.

Zhengxi lasted all of four seconds.

Ten months, Jian Yi convinced (begged) him to finger him.

By the time the slowest year the world had ever seen was over, they’d both reached a level of desperation akin to insanity.

12 months doesn’t sound too bad, right?

52 weeks?

365 days?

8,760 hours?

525,600 minutes?

31,536,000 seconds?!

It was torture.

They planned to make an evening if it.

Zhengxi had the day off work.

He made all of Jian Yi’s favorite foods, picked out some romantic music.

He’d even lit candles.

He made sure they had plenty of lube and condoms.

He even got everything together for a bubble bath after it was all over.

Jian Yi came home from work, kicked his boots off and closed himself in the bathroom.

Before Zhengxi could process this fully, Jian Yi was back, stark naked, drying his hair.

He dropped the towel and made a beeline for Zhengxi.

He grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the living room.

‘What are you-’

‘Take your clothes off.’ Jian Yi demanded.

Even when he tried to argue that the food would get cold he had already started undressing.

When he was done, Jian Yi shoved him onto the couch and straddled his lap and kissed him deeply.

Jian Yi kissed down his jaw, sucking gently at the side of his neck, gently running his tongue over the sharp collarbone.

‘Jian Yi, I…’ he gestured towards the rapidly cooling food on the table half heartedly.

‘I can see that. Thank you. But as of right now, I’ve waited years to feel you inside me and I refuse to wait a fucking second longer.

‘G-give me the lube, I’ll get you ready.’ Zhengxi whispered, holding his hand out for the small bottle in the other man’s hand.

Jian Yi shook his head.

‘Took care of it in the shower.’ He explained, popping the cap open to pour a liberal amount into his palm before reaching down and spreading it over Zhengxi’s, already painful, erection.

He wasted no time sitting up on his knees, lining them up, and sinking down on him one inch at a time.

The wet, hot, pressure that engulfed him was so overwhelming he thought he was going to black out.

He didn’t take his eyes off Jian Yi’s face for a second.

The pain he tried to hide was heartbreaking but he clearly had prepared himself.

Before Zhengxi could tell him to take it slow, he had taken it all in.

Zhengxi stroked his back as he took several deep breaths.

Very slowly, the muscles around him began to relax.

Jian Yi lifted himself up on shaking arms before sinking down again.

‘Jian Yi, oh my god.’ Zhengxi’s voice was rough and strained.

He did it three more times.

Zhengxi shook with the effort of not flipping them over and fucking him the way he imagined several times a day.

Stay still.

Let him get used to it.

‘Ok.’ Jian Yi whispered.

‘I’m ready.’

‘What…what should I do?’ Zhengxi asked lamely.

Thankfully, Jian Yi understood.

‘I want you on top.’

They carefully maneuvered themselves so Jian Yi was flat on his back, Zhengxi between his legs.

‘Are you ready?’

Jian Yi nodded, skin bright red from the roots of his hair to the head of his cock.

‘I’ve been waiting for a very, very, long time to say this.’ Jian Yi informed him quietly, pulling the other man down by the back of his neck.

‘Fuck me, Zhengxi.’

He did not need to be asked twice.
As gently as he could, he began to move
his hips.

Jian Yi wrapped a leg around his waist, tilting his hips up with a soft, contented, sigh.

After several whispered pleas, Jian Yi froze, catching his attention.

‘Zhengxi. Fuck. me. harder.’ He growled, sending shivers down Zhengxi’s spine.

When you think of someone, there’s always a few pictures that pop into your head.

Images of them burned into your memory.

Maybe they were laughing, or smiling, or doing something stupid.

There’s always a picture or two that stick.

Months before that memorable night, Zhengxi had been experimenting.

Using instructions from the internet, (where all the most reliable instructions come from) he’d found his prostate.

It had been an uncommonly difficult feat and he didn’t do it often because the angle killed his shoulder, but he when he did it was more than a noteworthy experience.

Trying to use his vague knowledge to find Jian Yi’s was awkward and likely confusing, but the look on Jian Yi’s face.

The utter shock as his back arched and fingernails dug into Zhengxi’s shoulders as he came…

That was rarely far from his mind.

Zhengxi didn’t last much longer.

They cleaned up.

The atmosphere in the room was different than it had ever been.

The tension had eased.

The elephant in the room had found someone new to frustrate.

They ate dinner, talked about their respective days, washed dishes together, and made their way back to the bedroom.

There was no uncertainty this time.

No doubts or fear that either one of them didn’t want it.

Zhengxi spoiled Jian Yi just as he’d always imagined.

He held him closely as he fingered him for god knows how long, teaching them both about Jian Yi and.

He swallowed his embarrassment, starting with tiny licks and kisses around that tight, twitching, ring of muscle, and ended with his Zhengxi fucking his boyfriend with his tongue until he begged for his cock.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms only when the sun began to rise, grateful they’d taken the next day off work.

Ease - Part 11



Length: 3.4k

SummaryYou and your best friend Taehyung have recently got into the same university in the capital of Seoul. Hoping that this was your year to finally admit your romantic feelings towards your said best friend, uni seems an exciting prospect. But of course, the future never really goes according to plan.

Originally posted by jeonbase

1 ♡ 2 3 4 5 ♡ 6 7 ♡ 8 ♡ 9 ♡ 10 11 ♡ 12 ♡ 13 ♡ 14 ♡ 15 ♡ 16 ♡ 17 ♡ 18 ♡ 19 - End ♡ Moodboard

“I want you to update me on what happens,” said Jungkook, the night before your field trip. “What Taehyung says to you and all that.”

You scoffed. “Jungkook, stop being protective. Taehyung’s never going to do anything; he’s also still probably broken up over Yeji, so I can’t exactly not talk to him.”

“Still,” he shrugged shiftily, “you’d better tell him that I’m with you now. Even if it might be difficult.”

He hugged you tightly before you left, while you muttered that you’re technically weren’t ‘official’, but Jungkook ignored you.

“Remember to text me how it’s going!” he called to your retreating back.

“Yes, mother!”

It was the first time you’d seen Taehyung since the night of the café, so not only were you worried about how he’d been coping, but also how to tell him, without rubbing it in his face, that you were seeing Jungkook.

Your major class had been taken on a trip to a museum, which was a large building with several floors and rooms branching off in every direction. The ceiling was impressive by itself, as the patterned glass with a large chandelier allowed light to flood the room. Jungkook’s words rung in your head, but you’d seen a huge ‘no phones’ sign as you entered and there were numerous members of staff milling about the place, so you weren’t going to risk sending a message for the sake of Jungkook’s motherliness. Instead, you scanned the crowd for the familiar face of your best friend, but you couldn’t see him anywhere.

“You may go off and do your own thing, but remember to have lunch and meet me back here at 4,” announced your teacher. “No excuses. Remember to be respectful to others and take notes; I may include some of this in the test next week.”

Although everyone nodded, there were several small sighs as they realised that they couldn’t completely slack off. After thank you’s had been said, students split off from the group as they went to explore, leaving you standing at the entrance by yourself. You hadn’t needed to make any friends in your class, as you’d always relied on Taehyung being there, and no one had bothered with you, either. In fact, you were pretty sure no one even knew your name.

However, as the crowd thinned, you finally spotted Taehyung standing next to a statue, peering up at the chiselled face in wonder. As your heart rate increased at the sight, you almost bounced over to him, a relieved smile on your face.

“Tae! There you are. I couldn’t see you on the coach.”

Taehyung turned around, and you were surprised to see that he looked relatively healthy. Although he still had dark circles and his eyes lacked their usual shine, he didn’t look like he was suffering from heartbreak. But then again, that’s Taehyung for you, you thought to yourself. He’s the king of hiding his emotions so you think he’s fine, but in reality, you never know what’s going on underneath.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, lacking enthusiasm in his tone.

“Have you been eating properly?” you asked, as he avoided eye contact. “I hope you’ve been okay, I know these past few days haven’t been-”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, readjusting his cap so that his long hair covered his eyes. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket, he walked away, leaving you by the statue. He stopped not far off and looked back, as if he expected you to keep up with him despite the moody response he’d given you.

Sighing at his obstinance, you followed the older boy, throwing him more questions but earning similar, half-hearted replies. Taehyung refused to look at you, and with a mask covering his mouth, it made you feel as if he’d shut himself off, building a wall so that you couldn’t go near him. You racked your brains to figure out if you’d done anything wrong, but as far as you were aware, you’d parted on good terms. Perhaps this was just the consequence of the Yeji situation, you thought.

Taehyung stood behind a glass case, looking down at the objects inside and reading the labels alongside them. You tried to do the same, but you weren’t really looking, the objects merging with one another as you struggled to come up with ideas of what to do next. Clearly, words weren’t working, seeing as Taehyung had clammed up and refused to say more than two words at a time.

“Do you want to talk about it? Because if you don’t, just say and I’ll stop bothering you. I don’t really fancy having a one-sided conversation for the whole day.” You didn’t mean for it to sound sassy, but recently you’d found yourself getting annoyed at the smallest of things. It was mainly directed at Jungkook, as whenever he got snappy you found yourself arguing back, or whenever he talked about Taehyung you backed up your friend instead of him. It was out of character for you, because usually with Taehyung, you knew when to take a step back before things got too heated. But the stress of the dance competition and the pressure from Jungkook and the worries of Taehyung were taking its toll.

So, when Taehyung moved on to another glass case instead of answering your question, you spun around and stalked off, his behaviour beginning to make your skin crawl. You didn’t trust yourself to talk calmly, and that’s why you found yourself glowering on a couch in a silent room. The seat was shaped like a large splodge of paint, with places to sit formed between the rise and fall of the arms. It was on the fourth floor at the back of the museum, so although it had a huge, old clock facing outwards on the window with rusting Roman numerals for visitors to look at, it was dead. Sitting with your arms and legs crossed and staring out the clock at the river below, you let your annoyance fizzle out by grumbling a stream of curse words under your breath in as many languages as you knew.

You understood he was going through a tough time, and you could make allowances for his behaviour, but at that moment, you needed to take some time off. Taehyung rarely had mood swings and you rarely got angry, but since going to university and experiencing all of the hardships that went along with it, both of you had taken cuts and bruises, leaving you raw.

You’d only been sitting there for a few minutes before you heard someone totter into the room, making their way to the strangely shaped couch. They sat in the seat next to you, but due to the circular design and the small hills between each seat, you could only see their legs stretched out in front of them. Luckily, you knew Taehyung’s wardrobe inside out.

“I want to talk about it,” was all Taehyung said.

Without much hesitation, you leant forward in your seat so you could see his face. This time, you could clearly see the pained expression as he stared at a single spot on the floor, his eyes shining and his interlocked hands twisting. There was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, despite all the years of knowing him. It was a mix of regret and disappointment, but the muscle popping in his neck suggested anger. You got up and squashed yourself next to Taehyung, even though there was barely enough room for one person, but Taehyung never cared about personal space when it came to you, so thankfully he made as much space as he could.

It felt odd having him that close to you again, with your hips pressed firmly together and your bodies so packed in that you felt his ribs contract and relax as he breathed. He still had his honey scent, and you couldn’t help feeling nostalgic to all the times where you hid in storerooms together to avoid doing sports or got in the back of Taehyung’s parent’s car with his siblings when they had a very small car. The memories made your heart lift, but you forced it back down again.

You’re seeing Jungkook now, you told yourself firmly. Move on.

“Yeji told me the reason she dated me,” he swallowed, looking down at his lap. Although you grabbed his hand in comfort, you felt your palms go clammy as you realised what Yeji must’ve said to Taehyung. “To put it simply, she never liked me in the first place. I remember everyone being so shocked why Yeji asked me out so quickly after we first kissed, and so did I, but I didn’t question it. I just thought that she had been wanting to date me for ages. In fact, I wasn’t really focused on a lot of things. I think I barely noticed that she wasn’t very happy with me, because I was… I was in my own little world.

“Yeji told me everything. She actually fancied Jimin, but Jimin had told her to ask me out before he would consider dating her. He apparently told her that it was a joke, but she thought she’d do it anyway because then Jimin might take her seriously. But Jimin found out about us dating and told Yeji that she shouldn’t have gone through with it because he still wasn’t going to date her. That’s what I saw them arguing about the other day. So, the only reason Yeji was with me was to get Jimin’s attention. She never liked me, Y/N, never. And I feel like a damn fool. She told me all this and then she split up with me, saying that I deserve someone who loves me and to go chase… whatever.”

The more he spoke, the worse you felt. You tried to shroud your heart to make it thicker, but the bitterness in his tone tore it to shreds and you were left feeling terrible. You couldn’t say anything to console him, because you would’ve been lying through your teeth. This wasn’t news to you, and the guilt was putting your acting skills to the test. You rubbed your thumb against his hand and rested your head against his, letting his hair tickle your cheek while hoping that Taehyung didn’t ask you any questions.

Luckily, he tried his best at making things light-hearted as he grew uncomfortable with the silence you’d created. “But I’ll get over it. Worse things are happening in the world, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s still difficult,” you muttered. This reminded you of what Jungkook had said to you earlier: ‘you’d better tell him that I’m with you now. Even if it might be difficult’. Was this the right time? Is it best to just get all the hard words out of the way?

Telling Taehyung would feel like you were lying to him. It would suggest that the feelings you admitted for him were gone, and that you were completely focused on Jungkook. As much as you wished that were true, the burning sensation in the pit of your chest and the nervousness running up your legs told you otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, you made a quick decision. “Tae, I’ve got something to tell you too.”

Taehyung nodded, his usual steady gaze now darting across the wooden panels on the floor. “I already know,” he whispered softly.


When you didn’t respond further, he slowly nodded, his eyes still flickering downwards. “That’s great.”

You swallowed your pride and nodded in agreement. When you were with Jungkook, it was easy to forget about your feelings for Taehyung and instead focus on whatever you had with Jungkook, but in that moment, you couldn’t help wondering if you were doing the right thing. Of course, Jungkook was sweet and funny with a childish side that kept you on your toes, but there were also things about him that got you questioning whether you were forcing something that would never work. He was hot-headed, protective, and he hadn’t established which lines he shouldn’t cross with you. Being with Taehyung reminded you of how comfortable you could be, because you knew each other inside out so you didn’t need to try with your friendship. It just… happened.

You shook yourself out of your reverie. Taehyung was probably well aware of what you felt for him, and yet there were no signs that those feelings were reciprocated. He didn’t see you in that way, whereas Jungkook did. Sure, you were going to have to work hard for your relationship to work, but you were determined not to pine for what could’ve been with Taehyung. Jungkook was right; he hadn’t been thinking of you. Although he’d made up for it when it was pointed out to him, not once had Jungkook forgotten about you or left you for someone else. You were doing the right thing. Doing the best thing.

“And do you still… like me?” he asked tentatively, causing your stomach to flip.

The answer was at the tip of your tongue, one breath away from slipping out of your mouth. It was the real answer, the one taking a beating at your conscience every time Jungkook smiled at you with gentle eyes and blushed cheeks. The easiest option was to say that you liked the boy who saw your dancing and the joy in your eyes, but the boy currently pressed against your side saw your fiery temper and learnt your deep thoughts, and still accepted you as you were.

But you sometimes, the easiest option wasn’t always the most honest.

Taehyung looked up with a sorrowful gaze, and as you locked eyes, you knew he saw straight through you. Although you didn’t respond to his question, a shy smile appeared on his lips, making you turn red and look away in shame. However, Taehyung squeezed you hand as if to say it’s okay, I understand.

“Come on,” Taehyung said suddenly, standing up and holding out his hand to help you. “We’ve got hours left here, and it’s only fair to celebrate that you’re no longer single, because that’s a miracle in itself.”

“You little bastard,” you groaned, but there was a smile on your face, knowing that Taehyung’s coping mechanism was keeping busy and insulting you at the same time. “The sad thing is, I’m technically still single, just not available.”

Taehyung grinned, his eyes glinting. “It’s a miracle that you even managed that,” he said cheekily.

“You’d better run, Taehyung, while you still can,” you threatened.

However, Taehyung just laughed, throwing his head back as he did so. The sound filled your heart with happiness, the nagging thoughts of Jungkook and the guilt about Yeji disappearing. “Come on,” he repeated, “let’s go have some fun.”

Taehyung took your hand gently and pulled you into room after room, and you soon relaxed and let the weight of your worries be lost in the back of your mind. Taehyung found most of the paintings hilarious, laughing at their expressions and managing to mimic the same face in each one, causing your camera roll to be filled with Taehyung posing next to paintings. It was just like old times, as you pointed out the ugliest statues and said ‘that’s you’ while Taehyung said he couldn’t tell the difference between you and the litter bins. It was as if time had been rewound back to your high school days when you went on similar trips, with your classmates asking Taehyung to hang out with them, but he always refused and stayed with you. You constantly objected, telling him to be with his other friends, but his response was always ‘who needs other friends when I have an idiot best friend?’ or ‘they don’t laugh at my jokes like you do’.

There were small booths playing videos explaining the history behind the knowledge in the museum, which you and Taehyung were more than happy to sit in to rest your legs. Taehyung watched each video eagerly, leaning forward on his seat as his eyes followed whatever was on the screen. You found yourself getting fidgety during an extremely long video about science, and you couldn’t keep still. Taehyung was intently focused, so you thought you would slip away to grab a snack in the café room before you fell asleep.

“I’ll be back,” you whispered in his ear.

However, Taehyung flung his arm across your lap to prevent you from standing. “It won’t be long now,” he muttered, knowing that you were getting bored.

His hand gripped onto your leg, and although he wasn’t holding on very tightly, you didn’t try and fight him. Instead, you let him absentmindedly play with the fraying rip in your jeans, his thumb stroking your exposed skin and sending tingles through your veins. Not good, your mind was shouting at you. Think of Jungkook, think of Jungkook. But you couldn’t. You knew that there had to be boundaries, but you couldn’t bring yourself to build them, especially when you’d been having such a good time. It was funny how the simplest act of affection from Taehyung left you immobile, whereas if someone else had done the same, you wouldn’t have noticed the roughness of the hands or the coldness of a bracelet trailing against your skin. But you removed Taehyung’s hand and went to the café anyway, telling yourself it meant nothing to you.

After leaving the museum and arriving back on campus, you turned on your phone as immediately it bleeped and buzzed with the missed calls and text messages flooding the screen, with one name on each one: Jungkook.

Not bothering to read his frantic words, you called him back straightaway. The phone only rang twice before he picked up. “Why didn’t you text me?” he asked, not bothering with hellos.

“We weren’t allowed phones inside,” you explained, watching your classmates say goodbye to each other before making their way home. “I would’ve got it confiscated if I’d tried.”

You heard him sigh at the other end. “I was so worried,” he muttered, but despite how quietly he spoke, you picked up on the upset tone.

“I’m fine.”

There was a silence, in which you imagined Jungkook biting his lip in thought. “I think we should practice tonight.”

“Ah, Jungkook,” you moaned, “I’m so tired! Let’s do it another night.”

“Well… if you’re sure… it might do you good, you know. I don’t want you being sad by yourself.”

“And why would I be sad?”

“You saw Taehyung today. Usually that doesn’t put you in the best of moods.”

You thought about it for a few moments, thinking back on the times where you yearned for Taehyung so much that it reduced you to tears whenever you realised that you didn’t stand a chance. “No, I feel better. Much better, actually. We had a good time.” Telling Jungkook this probably wasn’t your best plan of action, but you didn’t want to lie about feeling happy.

That’s what hit you the hardest. You should’ve been feeling worse, you should’ve been aching for him and wishing that it could be different, that there could be more between you. All the anguish and sorrow from the past few months was no longer there, and you knew it was because Yeji was out of the picture. You wished there was some part of you that was sad, as talking to Jungkook and hearing the longing in his voice would’ve been easier to accept if you had been. Because when you were sad, Jungkook could pick you up and take you under his wing, but because you were happy, you didn’t need his comfort. You didn’t need that longing. Sometimes, loving Taehyung got you out of bed in the morning, but sometimes, it left you crying into the sheets and wishing someone could help you up.

“I’d better go home,” you uttered, before hanging up the phone on the silent Jungkook.

He wasn’t happy, and you knew it was because he didn’t like the idea of you having a good time with Taehyung. Jungkook was aware that you hadn’t moved on from him, so his protective side was in overdrive because of it.

Were you just giving Jungkook false hope? Could he really help you move on? He was willing to love you, but it felt like a fairy tale; it was a pleasant idea, but when put into the real world, it felt flat and unthrilling. Instead, you yearned for something you couldn’t have, along with the intense fear that it would be all you’d ever feel.

More of You

Characters: Crowley x Reader 

Warnings: Explicit, Drinking, Smut, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Language, Angst, Fluff 

Word Count 4,150 ish                                                     

Summary: Crowley has been thinking of the woman he met and spent the night with after the Vince Vincente Concert. He decides to see her again. This is a follow up to my story “Whiskey and You”.  

Crowley was sitting on his throne, looking both regal and terribly bored. His thoughts wandered back in time, just a few months ago, to his little nursemaid. The night had started out alright but went bad quickly but was then was redeemed by a lovely human creature. She had no idea that he was a demon or the King of Hell, and wanted nothing from him except to tend his wounds and enjoy his company. She liked him for his own charms and Crowley liked that, a lot.  He tried to separate his like for her and his like for her attention, but realized he couldn’t. He missed her. 

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Friends Like These (4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1651

Summary: You and Bucky are more than friends and less than lovers, due to both of you not having the courage to take things further. But thanks to your friends and conveniently coincidental experiences, some things might just meant to be.

Author’s Note: Hey there! Wow, this took me like 5 months!! I’m truly sorry, I’ve been occupied with things (also procrastination) and the next thing I know, it’s been months…geez. Regardless, thank you for still sticking with me and rest assured, there will be a final part after this so I’ll try to finish it as soon as possible! 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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DAY 3309

Jalsa, Mumbai                  Apr 19/20,  2017                  Wed/ Thu 1:04 am

Dubbing .. a process to correct the sound in film if there is disturbance and external sounds during the time of the shoot .. sync sound is quite common on shoots these days ; a process where extreme caution is taken to create a sound system on the premises of the shoot when all is quiet ! Difficult at times but many a production has been able to achieve this through a most rigorous exercise, using personnel of the production stationed at various portions of the perimeter of the shooting making sure that there is absolute silence, during the timing of the shot  ..

It is by far a most tedious process ! Recereating the same atmosphere, mental and physical conditioning as at the time of the shot, in a sterile individual recording studio, is tough .. 

Many an artist prefer not to dub because it is almost impossible to get the right tone of the performance in a solitary changed atmosphere. But such are the requirements of cinema, that is has become a necessity .. 

Many an artist actually prefer to dub .. it is that one moment for them to improve upon the performance they may have given during the shot .. any correction of word pronunciations, inaudible sound of dialogue, and many other aspects .. 

For me personally I would prefer a system of sync sound ; an atmosphere when the artist can actually hear within what they are expressing and not be disturbed by either the sound of the camera whirring, or any traffic or external sound …

The Arriflex camera when it came out was lighter and more portable than the Mitchell camera , which was extremely large, and a physical burden to operate .. but the Arriflex made a lot of sound as the film ran on the reel inside the loaded reel .. a ‘blimp’ was then devised which ws worn by the Arriflex as a cap and which reduced the sound to a negligible amount ..

With the Arri camera sound artists had to speak louder than normal, in order for their sound to be recorded, and in turn help in dubbing later .. if the sound track during the shoot is bad, then lip syncing the dialogue was another pain ..

Of course now with advanced sound technology, the absence of film, the doing away with those large camera machines, resorting now to the chip loaded inside digital cameras, where the duration could run for hours .. life has become a lot easier .. otherwise in the early parts of the film industry most shoots were kept in Studios after midnight, when most of the city slept and the noise pollution was very limited .. a normal day in the life of an artist therefore invariably began by the late afternoon or evening .. because they would finish by sunrise and then got back home to rest and get their night sleep, in the day ..

For long, artists were blamed for not being available in the morning hours, for normal meetings or social domestic events .. why .. because they only got to rest and sleep after the sun had risen - they being at work the entire night .. due to the recording of the sound factor ..

Till the early years of my time, if the shoots were to be conducted outdoors, and the recordist wished for sync sound without any disturbance, production would actually programme the shots after ascertaining what time flights took off near by, or train passings were monitored, for their sound would drown the dialogue delivered .. even now at time we have to wait for a flight to go by or a train to pass, before we can register a take ..

BUT .. to get back to dubbing .. it is an art by itself ..

Different procedures are followed. Many artists prefer to stand and dub, many wish to sit and dub .. many insist that in whatever physical condition the shot was taken, sitting or standing they would want the same condition inside the dubbing studio .. place ments of the mike, closeness of the face to the microphone or away from it is all dictated by the recordist .. you may wish to be at a distance that is comfortable for you, but if the recording is not right context to the mike, the dub shall be negated ..

So how does one dub emotional scenes ?? they are a measure of the capability of an artist .. you may have lived the scene at the time of its shooting .. there were other artists present, a scenario conducive to the scene was present to put you in the correct emotional mood .. but in the studio .. nada .. nothing .. one has to imagine the entire process all over again and give the best dis connected emotional take .. and the tragedy is that this is the take that shall be judged as your performance, not what you gave originally .. nah ..

The portion to be dubbed is run on a screen in front of you, in silent mode .. the audio track of the sound of that scene is provided for you in earphone which you wear to get an idea of the words and the sound, and then as you start taking the spoken words need to fall in sync with the lip movements and the emotion of the scene running silently in front of you on screen .. 

There are some very accomplished artists ! They just put on the ar phone, never look at the screen to see if their lips are matching or not, and simply are able to give a audio take absolutely in connect with the lips and the emotion .. them I admire most  .. there are others even more accomplished .. they ask for the shot to be dubbed to be run with audio sound on the screen in front of them, ask the recordist to cut the sound and just go ahead merely looking at the silent screen and have the ability to synchronise the sound to the picture … !!!

I have none of these abilities .. so I seek forgiveness with my director and beg him not to dub a particular scene that requires dubbing, because I shall be unable to recreate the same effect ..

Case in point : the mirror scene in Amar Akbar Anthony, the drunk scene in Satte pe Satta .. and many more .. 

Technology has made our lives a lot easier .. sync sound is quite prevalent even in noisy streets now .. efficient miniature microphones are stuck inside your being, your shirt your jacket discreetly, unknown or unseen by naked eyes, or the eyes of the camera, batteries that run them are placed even more discreetly inside trouser pockets or clipped onto the back of your garment .. and we are on .. these mike marvels have the ability to pick up sound from distances as also your most intimate breathing ..  becomes a bit embarrassing when we forget that the mike is on 24 hrs , so after the shot is over whatever you may be uttering is getting recorded as well .. hmmm .. even more embarrassing when you forget to switch it off for a toilet break .. !!!

Ahhh .. the vagaries of film making ..

However even after you have given, in your estimate, the perfect sound for a scene in the dub .. it is the sound designer that has the last word .. he will finally mix the film with sound and background music and effects, and your own dubbed sound, which eventually could turn out to be a thousand times better or worse .. according to your standards .. which invariably are never acceptable to the sound designer .. for he has to keep in mind its reproduction in the theatres which have different sound systems .. and a universal sound track has to be made for them .. different theatres produce different sounds, depending on what sound system they use and the acoustics of the theatre .. 

Welcome to a mere small section of film making .. next lesson another day ..

GN .. love

Amitabh Bachchan

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if there's a fic where steve and bucky never met. Still, steve is cap america and bucky is the winter soldier, and they fall in love anyway

there must have been a moment where we could have said no   by magdaliny 

The Soldier remembers this: he wakes up in the snow.

Thawed Out  by auburnnothenna (auburn),eretria        

He’s not the Asset. He’s not the Winter Soldier. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. With the help of Steve, Sam and the Avengers, James takes the long, slow road to recovery. Nothing is as easy as either of them thought it would be.

Reflex Memories  by sariane       

Bucky Barnes never remembers who he is.

That doesn’t stop him from falling in love with Steve Rogers.

we carry our lives around in our memories  by biblionerd07  

James doesn’t remember why he has a metal arm.  The doctors say he had an accident and has brain damage.  Sometimes he wishes he could remember.  But every morning he gets to eat breakfast with his friend Steve, so it’s not so bad.  James thinks he and Steve might be dating, kind of.  It’s alright if he doesn’t remember everything.  Steve doesn’t mind.

A Flaw in My Code  by charmingcontender         

“Stay with me.”

The plea is a demand, has just enough force to be an order.

“Command: accepted.“

OR,  The fallout of the Winter Soldier’s acts of terror have far reaching consequences.

Memory  by emilyenrose  

He remembered nothing. After the first few weeks, he asked to be called James.

lacuna by alcibiades

The Winter Soldier doesn’t remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers’ help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn’t remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Heat Stroke by cleo4u2, xantissa

Captain America and the Winter Soldier meet for the first time in 2015. Now Bucky, after years of torture at Hydra’s and more as a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D., is being given the chance to gain his freedom. All he has to do, is complete a mission with a team he can’t stand while following the orders of yet another pompous, controlling Alpha. Steve thinks he can get his team through their most difficult mission to date, so long as he can get the smell of the Winter Soldier’s heat out of his nose.

From Smoke and Embers by fate_incomplete

The Winter Soldier forgot what it was to feel…anything really, until he fell for his crime fighting partner Captain America. So Clint sets Bucky up with Steve on a blind date, cause he’s helpful like that, and also sick of their stubborn obliviousness. Things don’t exactly go to plan…or they do, eventually, but stuff happens in between.

Or, Clint is Bucky’s best friend, possibly because he is the only person scarier than Natasha, Jarvis helps Bucky steal shit from Tony, and Captain America…well Steve may just be the best thing to ever happen to Bucky.

A modern AU…

to hide the wolves of sleep by beardsley

SHIELD are the ones to create the Winter Soldier and, in 2013, deploy him to aid the Avengers. Some meetings are inevitable.

Situation: Normal by redcigar               

AU wherein Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers never met, Steve somehow manages to rescue the Winter Soldier anyway, and Avengers Tower ends up with the world’s angriest duckling and a whole new brand of entertainment.


(“He was dragging him out of the river,” Natasha argues later.

“Nat, be honest, he was going for the Full Monty.” Says Clint.

“I’m pretty sure we interrupted him in the middle of giving ‘emergency CPR’,” Tony agrees, “Or the stage after emergency CPR. Emergency Dick? Is that a thing?”

“That’s not a thing,” Natasha and Clint reply.)

Let me love you by thatgreenleaf

The Winter Soldier keeps trying to shower Steve with affection in the middle of fights.

Steve keeps mistaking them for fight moves.

Dick Move  by anenglishwolf

Steve is a master tactician.  Seriously, would he not use up every last option to bring in the Winter Soldier?  Including being the hottest superhero on the planet?  (Maybe.)

In which Steve seduces the Winter Soldier into giving himself up, the Soldier courts him with stolen jewels and Me To You bears, and the whole thing’s a little sadder than you might expect.

Apples and Donuts (Rogers/Barton x reader)

Steve was by no means perfect; sure, he carried that wholesome and honest persona, and physically he was the picture of goals, but despite the outward perception, he was just as flawed as anyone else.  On the battlefield he was assured and confident, beyond capable and unbelievably strong, but at home in his personal life, he had insecurities and doubts that made being in a relationship with him very difficult.  He had fears about putting you in danger that left him unwilling to bend, and they all but crippled him in committing himself to anything that could last with you.  He always carried the fear that either you would be hurt someday, or that he would be lost and cause you pain after he was gone.  Most of his fears felt irrational to you, but to Steve, they were as real as the feelings for you that he couldn’t deny.   You knew that if Steve loved you, it would be with everything that he had, and he would value you above anything else.  Steve was the choice to make for a life of safety, but it would also be a guarded one that he could one day run from under the excuse of keeping you out of harm’s way.

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The Boyfriend Test

Title: The Boyfriend Test

Imagine: Bringing your boyfriend over to meet Sam and Dean.

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could request an oneshot where the reader brings her boyfriend over to the bunker to meet her brothers, Sam and Dean?

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader. Sam x sister!reader.

Warnings: None.

Note: I’m doing my best, guys. Hoping to get another fic out this week. The request didn’t specify on a good or bad ending, so I went with what I thought was best!

Tagging: @caroldanversinatardis @tom-is-in-my-tardis @jessicarossouw @brooklynnewsie1899@evyiione @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @saveprettydays

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Hope you enjoy it!

Originally posted by samwinchesterappreciation

Originally posted by gameraboy

“Who’s Gavin?”

“What?” You turned around, books resting in your hand. You were in the library with Sam and Dean. Currently in the process of putting up books, until Dean asked that question.

“Who’s Gavin?” Dean asked more strictly. He held up your phone.

It showed a message reading: Sure, babe. - Gavin

You squeezed your books tight, getting nervous. Your brothers stared you down and you had no other excuse.

“My boyfriend.” You said it as bravely as you could, but it was kind of difficult when being stared down.

“Boyfriend. I don’t think so. You know the rule, (Y/N), no relationships.” Dean put your phone back down and crossed him arms.

“Come on, he’s really sweet. You can meet him!” You set the bold on the table and grabbed your phone. “I can tell him to come over!”

Dean didn’t say anything, just looked at you, before looking back at Sam. Sam gave a shrug and Dean sighed.

“Fine. We meet the guy and if he’s okay, then you can keep dating, I guess.” Dean huffed. He wasn’t fond of you dating, neither was Sam, but Sam wasn’t near as bad about it as your oldest brother.

“He’s late!” Dean pointed at his watch. Gavin was suppose to be here at 6 PM.

“Dean, it’s been two minutes.” Sam rolled his eyes. You sighed and just as you opened your mouth, a knock on the door echoed through the bunker.

“He’s here!” You jumped up and headed for the door, only for Dean to grab your arm and pull you back.

“I’ll get it.” Dean growled, heading for the door. You turned towards Sam. He walked over to you.

“As long as he treats you right, he’ll be okay.” Sam wrapped an arm around you. You nodded and the both of you began walking towards Dean.

It was going good so far, Gavin was the gentleman. Other than the occasional daggers Dean sent his way, Sam seemed to like him.

“So, Gavin, how’d you and (Y/N) meet?” Dean asked, with an aggravated tone. You glanced at your oldest brother, you couldn’t really be mad, he was just really looking out for you.

“Some dude was trying to hit on her, when she clearly wasn’t interested, and I was going to step in and tell him off myself, but she beat me to it!” Gavin looked over to you, a smile on his face. You smiled back, still remembering the incident.

You picked up the items your brothers had requested, pie for Dean, fruit for Sam, and candy for yourself. You set down the small basket you had and leaned down to get something off of the bottom shelf.

“Hey, baby! Come over to my place and you can bend down like that anytime!” A voice shouted out. You stood back up and saw some boy in saggy pants, an oversized jacket, and cap.

“No thanks.” You said, turning back and returning to your things.

“Aww, come one, babe! We can have a lot of fun! What do ya say?” He walked closer to you and you balled you fists up. A few people began watching now, you didn’t need the whole store watching.

“Look, I said no. Now get away from me before I rip off your most prized possession.” You growled. A few woman cheered in the back, thanking you. A few others showed impressed looks.

“Man, chill, bruh. I was just kidding.” He raised his hands and walked back out of the isle. You smirked in victory and saw someone walking towards you.

You brothers shared a look, before both smirking slightly.

“She’s a good one, you guys have an awesome sister!” Gavin gave a small laugh.

“I guess we do, don’t we?” Sam looked back at you. You gave the best bow you could, while sitting down.

“Why thank you.” You all gave a laugh.

You had talked for so long, and Gavin was doing wonderful, at least, that’s what you thought.

“Well, kid. You’re actually not that bad.” Dean said, and you could believe it. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Well, I’m honored that you’ll let me keep on dating (Y/N),” He smiled and killed at his watch. “It’s getting late, I should get home.”

“I’ll walk you out.” You said and followed him to the door. Once you were out of sight of your brothers, he gave you a small hug.

“I enjoyed this.” He smiled.

“Me too. I’m so sorry about my brothers, though.” You apologized. They could be a handful.

“Don’t be sorry, they’re just looking out for you.” He said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” You laughed. Gavin stared at you. “What?”

“How did I get lucky as to get you?” He smiled. You felt your face flush. Before you knew it, you both were leaning in.

“Hey! I didn’t say anything about kissing!” Dean yelled. You and Gavin let out a laugh.

Steve Rogers and Disability

I’m not putting this behind a read more because I literally can’t trust them to work on tumblr mobile. I’m sorry. Please prepare to scroll now if you need to cause this is wildly long.

This is one part of a multi-part thing I wanna write, called “I never really fit in anywhere,” after Steve’s line from CACW. For me, Steve has relationships to disability, consent, and vocation (as in religious calling) that are important to me and I want to talk about them. This post is about disability.

Okay, so obviously pre-serum Steve has a relationship to disability. He is disabled. He has an entire buffet of respiratory issues and heart issues, along with high blood pressure, easy fatiguability, and the various aftereffects of scarlet and rheumatic fever. The kid’s a mess. We honestly don’t see much of that in the films, it’s only hinted at. But those hints are important.

What’s most important to remember is that he struggled every day with fatigue and with a restrictive physical existence. This shaped him as a person. There is an important relationship Steve has to energy and to personal motivation and morality that grew out of living in his specific body in these early years.

  • Look, living with these health issues involves constant strategizing, and constant reassessment of resources. That’s where Steve built those skills.
  • If you have chronically low energy, you might get in the habit of making quick decisions from the information you have, and you might stick with those decisions as far as you possibly can… figuring THAT’S the best use of your limited resources. That’s where his certainty and stubbornness was born.
  • If you have chronically low energy and resources, you might be keenly aware that your choice of where you put that energy is the only real choice - the only real control - that you have. So choice and consent becomes a critical value to you.
  • If you have chronically low energy and resources, and a lot of empathy, you might get real impatient, real quick with any bully anywhere who steals effort and energy and choice from others.
  • If you have chronically low energy, and a family that encouraged self-sacrifice, you might get ridiculously stoic and value self-reliance in yourself far more than you value it in others.
  • If you have chronically low energy and resources, and parents that gave a lot of themselves to others, you might value anything that provides you with more to give.

Yes, Steve no doubt got help in just existing from his mother and from Bucky. But Bucky couldn’t always help him walk where he needed to go. Bucky couldn’t help him breathe when he struggled. His mother couldn’t always help either - and she probably sacrificed far more of herself to care for him than Steve was ever comfortable with.

I’m thinking here of those times when my chronic illness symptoms have been the worst, where to keep my life going, I had to park the car and get into the store, not knowing for certain if I’d have it in me to get back out. But I did it because I had no choice. I see that determination in Steve, his entire life. It’s not recklessness. It’s the drive that’s born of knowing these moments intimately… that even the most ordinary life can seem impossible. So we might as well just keep doing the impossible until we can’t.

Steve’s bodily life with a disability shapes him profoundly, and this continues throughout his life in the movies.


Now to talk about adult disabled Steve, I want to talk for a second about the social model of disability. This is the idea that disability is not some innate quality in a person, but is actually a function of how well society is built to accommodate them. Being of average height, for example, isn’t a disability because everything is built to accommodate average height. But being considerably taller or shorter than average can function as a disability, because the world isn’t built to work with folks with bodies that function outside particular parameters.

We all live with accommodations. Most of us can’t walk every single place we need to go, so transportation has been built. (The quality of that system is another topic.) But some of us not only can’t walk to work but can’t use stairs. Flat surfaces are needed for differing walking abilities or for chairs with wheels. That accommodation, for some reason, has been named in our culture as extra. Some of us require forms of communication that aren’t the first choice for others, or devices to improve sight or hearing. Some are considered ordinary and some extra. This goes on and on.

In this model, a disability is a way that society prevents us from functioning at our best, by not fitting to us correctly.

So, consider this model on post-serum Steve.

  1. Despite the serum working with flying colors, Colonel Phillips gives up on Steve immediately and ignores him. He doesn’t know what to do with only one of him. There is nothing for Steve to do for the Army at that point, because nothing about an individual soldier’s structure is built to fit his abilities. This is functionally a disability for him, and it leads to his USO position.
  2. His wartime experience is a kind of disability – Sam digs in CATWS and quickly finds that Steve’s regular mattress doesn’t work for sleeping anymore. Steve probably had to find another way to get any sleep. This is one simple aspect Sam uses to start unpacking what Steve carries with him from his wartime experience. Much of it is at least a difficult fit for civilian life.
  3. Sam also draws attention to the fact that Steve is physically different. It’s Sam who ribs first about Steve passing him so many times. It’s Sam that jokes about how fast Steve is. We don’t see what social price Steve pays for his physique, and we don’t see how he usually handles that lack of fit with other guys. I think of how I personally manage little (or big) awkward moments of disability and lack of fit when I see these moments for Steve. But by contrast, we can see Sam’s trustworthiness as a friend in how Sam normalizes the difference by acknowledging it and being casually okay with it.
  4. Steve’s persona as Captain America sets him apart, and functions both as disability and accommodation. As an accommodation, it gives his extraordinariness a story to live within and be explained by. He can be different, he can not fit, and it’s okay, because he’s Captain America. Once he comes out of the ice he has been revered as Cap for years, as we see in Coulson’s reflection. This keeps him isolated and stuck in stiff caricature in Avengers 1***. Eventually we see him split himself into Steve and the Cap persona, portrayed in his covert trip through the Smithsonian exhibit on himself. Cap is a way for him to serve and help others, and understand his past and his extraordinary abilities. But it’s still a way that his needs as a person are not met by the society around him. His needs are not well met.
  5. It’s a brief silly moment, but I do have to throw in, “If I try to run in these shoes, they’re gonna fall off” from the mall scene in CATWS. Once again, the civilian way of doing things doesn’t work for him. (How much of this poor guy’s life does he have to spend in shoes that don’t fit his needs??)
  6. His body survived well past almost everyone he knew dying. His “time travel” is an embodied disability. The kinesthetic connections he had to his friends, to his cohorts in time, to daily life in the 1940’s are severed. Food’s different, communication’s different. Dating and sexual mores are different. Every sensory experience functions differently than it used to. He has experienced a profound loss, and living in his body is profoundly different. He adapts, and he finds accommodations where he can. But imagine how much rewiring Steve had to do to function in day-to-day life. To go grocery shopping, or clothes shopping, for example.
  7. His worst fears represented in his AOU nightmare may have home vs war as the theme but they are all about bodies and limits – the dancing that he couldn’t do, the woman he couldn’t hold in his arms, the injury that he’s seen inflicted. The inability to keep these embodied memories of home and war from bleeding into one another. The immense loss he’s felt… and loss is deeply physical.
  8. His resonance with Wanda’s motivations in her own life (flaws in her story aside) comes from this common ground – that they both know what it’s like on a visceral level to only have one’s limited body, and to be willing to risk it to have more to give to a cause. They also both know what’s it like to be physically different, to pay a terrible price for that difference, and to still trust the determination that brought them this far.
  9. So, this brings us to Civil War. Make no mistake, the authority being bandied about with the Sokovia Accords is an embodied thing for Steve. The wariness he feels is not just from the fall of SHIELD, it has its roots much further back. The document separates the action from the embodied results of those on the ground, and he won’t have that. He will hold within himself responsibility for what he’s done or he won’t take the action. That ability to choose what to do with himself - that control of self that was the *only thing he had as a child and a young man* - he will not give that up. He will not ask others to give that up.
  10. When it’s clear to him that he must break with the Avengers, he physicalizes this. I know we joke about it being petty or extra that he took the Avengers badge off so quickly. But it comes from how deeply his embodiment and his moral decision-making are intertwined. He literally cannot wear that on himself if it’s not accurate - not out of spite but out of integrity. The decision pulling him away from his friends is body-based. He acts it out bodily.
  11. It’s no accident that at the end of Civil War, in the same scene, Bucky loses his arm and Steve drops his shield. They’re both parting with something… they’re both leaving something physical behind. And in keeping with how life often treats them, Steve chose his and Bucky didn’t. Steve is choosing to leave behind a part of himself in leaving Captain America. As I said before, it is both disability and accommodation. It is a reason why his differentness was okay. Maybe Bucky is a part of how he can do this. But also, maybe he can only imagine doing this after meeting so many differently abled people, and realizing Steve doesn’t need a reason why he’s different, why he doesn’t fit in. 

So it’s true, he’s right, Steve never really fits in anywhere. I think people who have lived with disabilities might understand something of Steve’s specific struggle there in a unique way. I don’t know where his choices will lead him next, but I hope he’s still driven by this moral code informed by his own disability.

***I know many fans are very unhappy with Whedon’s contributions to the MCU, esp around Steve in A1 and around Nat in AOU. I understand, and I’m not a fan of his. But in both cases, I actually think Whedon - possibly (probably?) despite himself - contributed some really useful positive stuff to both characterizations.

Girl’s Night

Summary: Nat and Wanda conspire to get you and Bucky together by getting you a little drunk during a girl’s night in.

Prompt(s): @canumoveyourseatup-no: So I looked at the prompt list and thought 4, 12, and 22 would make a hilarious combination with killer B. Or you can just choose one or a combination of two or whatever your heart desires.
4. “I’m too sober for this.”
12. “She’s hiding behind the sofa.”
22. “Did you just hiss at me?”

Warnings: none! This is all fluff and fun. :D Swearing maybe?

Word Count: 2368

Author’s Note: Ok these prompts are adorable. I’m sorry love I could only manage the first two. Hopefully you like it anyway. This was fun. :D

Originally posted by hothothotgg

You sat on the couch with your feet curled up, tangled with Wanda’s, a bowl of popcorn between you both and an enormous pitcher of margaritas on the coffee table in front of you. It had been far too long since you’d had a girl’s night so the two of you took full advantage while most of the Avengers were off shaking hands at some elegant Stark event.

Sam heard your peals of laughter from his room down the hall and came to join the fun. “Margaritas!” he sang with a slight dance, before pouring himself a glass from the pitcher.

“Hey Sam,” Wanda greeted as you tried to stifle your giggling.

“You ladies sound like you’re having fun, mind if I join?”

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