just have a guess as to what i just watched

Lips (Drabble)

Summary: You and Bucky are kissing when you find his particular weakness.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 351

Based off of this prompt: “D-Don’t do that with your lips.”

Warnings: Making out, & kinda smutty? (just the buildup though)

A/N: So this drabble wouldn’t have been possible without my babe Gen, @bucky-plums-barnes, who gave me the idea for this drabble since I was stuck on what to do. She’s a smut queen™ (but you guys probably know that) & she came up with this idea in like .2 seconds when I told her the prompt because she’s talented & I LOVE HER OKAY. Anyway, this was fun to write, even if I’m terrible at smut. I just need practice, I guess. Hope you enjoy :)

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

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ok i know we talked about this a little before when some of the behind the scenes stuff came out, but seriously, john and mary’s front door is not in the sitting room before tst.

we can see under the stairs in mhr, and there is absolutely not a door there. so why is there suddenly a door there now?

2

Never have I been so wrong about a character before. Just like so wrong. Actually about two characters.

 I spent 8 episodes thinking Viktor was playing Yuri, and realized he wasn’t during the airport scene. That he cared for Yuri as much as Yuri cared for him.

And then episode 10 was like LOL sucker, guess what?! Viktor cared for Yuri first! The playboy in the eros skate routine??? ITS FREAKIN YURI. YURI SEDUCED VIKTOR AND THEN JUST UP AND LEFT 

AND VIKTOR IS JUST SITTING AROUND IN HIS IKEA APARTMENT WATCHING YURI SKATE THINKING ITS ON LIKE DONKEY KONG MACCACHIN GO BOOK US SOME PLANE TICKETS MY LIFE IS OFFICIALLY STARTING

2

Even before and after telling Isak that he told Sonja about him and they’re on a break - 3x05

He takes a long breath while not watching Isak in the eyes and you can almost see him thinking what and how to say it; then after he tells him, he’s carefully gazing right at Isak checking for his reaction. 

He is also looking at Isak with hope in his eyes as to say I know what I feel, I know what we have is real.

My guess is that when he told Sonja about Isak, she just told him that he wasn’t really falling for Isak, that it was just acting up cause of his illness and I think she told him that they could break up and wait until this crush would wore off and then see it for himself, but that wasn’t the case cause he really loves Isak.

The first prompt I had is when Victoria tries to invite Max to her own concert. Don’t mind what’s up top, that’s just the fan art I have for the au ;;u;; I love it
(The au belongs to @skiretehfox I love their art so much!!!)

Max was sitting comfortably on her bed, watching t.v. with a coffee mug in hand when the door opened revealing Victoria.

She looked rather giddy. Max decided not to ask and continued watching her shows.

“Guess who just got tickets to see Twenty One Pirates?!” Max looked up from the t.v. to look at Victoria.

“I’m guessing it’s you.” Max said as she took a sip of her coffee. Victoria nodded and triumphantly held the tickets up.

“And I want you to come with me!” Max nearly spits out the coffee in her mouth. Victoria was confused as she watched Max’s face go bright red.

“U-Uh… when is it?”

“October 3rd… is that a problem?”

“I have to uh… visit relatives that week… m-my grandma is sick and I wanted to go see her.” She stuttered out.

“I see…” Victoria had a disappointed look on her face but it soon dissipated into a smile. “Well I hope your grandma gets better.”

“S-Sorry I can’t come with you…”

“No it’s cool, I’ll just ask Rachel…”

There was a sudden awkward silence which was broken by Victoria.

“Maybe another time then?”

“Definitely! I’ll let ya know.” Victoria nodded and offered one more smile before leaving the room.

As soon as the door closed Max let out a sigh of relief. She sat there for a moment or two before chuckling.

She wanted to invite me to my own concert…

Scourge: If you wanna take over, why not just kill Firestar yourself- and just take over?

Tigerstar: What, no I didn’t- I don’t-

Scourge: You know what I’m thinking? ‘Cause I have a guess. It’s because you got no…guts


I was watching The Walking Dead and when Spencer died, it reminded me of this scene. The characters don’t really fit but at least the dialogue somewhat did

okay to tag as kin/me I don’t really care
SU spoiler warning!!

I haven’t really seen anyone talk about this yet, but I guess I’ll just get this out there. I’m sure that some of you have already seen the latest Steven bomb that was released early by CN. Every single one of the episodes was just so full of emotion and is probably the best steven bomb so far. It was so good it I overlooked at something in particular when I first watched the last episode they released, which was “ That Will Be All“.

And what would that be you ask? Well this…

Yes, yes, we were all probably shocked to see that all Rose Quartz gems were in bubbles. But what I want to talk about actually is who exactly put them there? Well, we were already given a hint as to who actually did it. If you took the time to check the color of the bubbles you’ll notice that they are all pink. And from past encounters we already know that the color of the bubble varies, and that the color depends on who made it.

Pearl has a clear bubble, Garnet has pink, Peridot has green and Amethyst has a somewhat lavender colored bubble.

At first I actually thought that Blue Diamond was the one that bubbled them, because she was the one looking after the zoo and the Rose Quartz gems after all, but I was wrong. If it really was her then the color should have been blue not pink, (that also means Holly Blue couldn’t have bubbled them either, just in case you were thinking it was her) 

Now that only leaves two people that might have done it…

Yup, White Diamond or Pink Diamond herself. 

First, lets start with White Diamond. There’s a possibility that it might be her because I assume that her bubble is white or clear like Pearl (that also adds to the “Pearl might actually belong to White Diamond theory”) . And since the room is all pink I thought that it might just be tinting the color of that bubble making it seem like it’s pink. But if under normal light it’s actually white or clear. ( Pretty short explanation, but that’s all I got.  (-。-;)   ) 

Now, Pink Diamond could have done this as well, and not only because the bubble is pink. Since we’re not exactly sure when she was shattered, it’s safe to assume that the rebellion may have happened first. So the rebellion is happening and everyone knows that the leader is a Rose Quartz, and that includes the Diamonds. What would a leader do if they found out that their own soldier went against them? Well hunt them down, of course! It could very well be possible that Pink diamond had every Rose Quartz hunted down, but she did not have the heart to destroy her own creation and instead of shattering them she placed them in all in bubbles instead.

Kid!Goner

I’ve been meaning to draw what he might look like in Momma CQ for a while now. I’m so happy with the results! I want to hug him. ;w;

He’d actually have to change quite a bit to work in MCQ. I think, rather than not physically existing, his kid self would just…have an extremely faint presence. He’s quiet and never really played with other kids growing up, so he doesn’t have much experience with social interaction. At school, he kind of just stays back and watches people, or does his own thing (mostly quiet activities like reading and drawing).

Most people don’t notice him, or they forget he’s in the room. If someone were to approach and talk to him, he’d have no idea what to do. He’d probably tense up, pull his hood down over his face, and wait for them to leave. If they looked away, he’d seize that chance to escape; he’s good at slipping away unnoticed. And hiding.

When he’s alone, he’s more comfortable being himself. And maybe “himself” is someone no one would expect. ;)

More random thoughts:

He has some sort of condition that causes his eye sockets to look this way? (I swear no one in MCQ is a normal, healthy kid. XD Eh, it’d be boring if everyone was “normal.”)

He tends to wear gray, maybe because it matches his eyes. Maybe he just likes gray?

He loves hoodies and is rarely seen not wearing one. Also, he prefers wearing clothes that are a little too big for him, or at least loose-fitting.

He is a smol bean.

Oh my gosh I love him.

Momma CQ belongs to @alainaprana

Bitty’s words echo in Jack’s ear. He might be a bit of a clueless idiot when it comes to relationships, as past evidence would show, but he knows that “can we talk” is almost never a good thing.

“A-about what?” Jack asks. He wishes now he’d listened to Bitty’s message before he called him, but there were so many missed calls he couldn’t just ignore it. And besides, Bitty sounds a little like he’s, well, crying.

“I’m just – I guess I had a bad day,” Bitty admits. “All the boys are over, Shitty even came down from Boston so we could all watch your game together. And they started talking about the rumours people used to have, y’know the ones, about how whether you and Parse were just friends, and…and it just – it hurts.”

Jack feels a little numb. He wants to drive up to Samwell right that second, but he knows he can’t. He’s got practice in the morning and then a game in the evening and so he can’t just drive the forty minutes to see his boyfriend, who is obviously hurting. Jack wants to, so badly, though. But he can’t jeopardize his career like that.

“We aren’t even friends now, you know that, right?” Jack says. He doesn’t like that Bitty’s jealous of Parse, even though he said he wasn’t back in August, but…

“No, honey, it’s not that,” Bitty says, and he sniffs again. “It’s – it’s the sneaking, and the lying, and the not being able to tell anyone about the fact the most amazing guy I’ve ever had the pleasure to know is in love with me and I love him right back and we’re together and happy when we are, and I can’t tell anyone.”

To Jack, who has never been big on confiding in anyone, this is a foreign concept. But Bitty sounds like he’s in so much pain, and Jack just wants to…well practice isn’t until ten. If he leaves right now, he can get to Samwell and back in the morning with a reasonable amount of sleep. Right?

“Bits, I’m gonna come up, okay?” Jack says, grabbing his keys and jogging down the stairs to the garage. “Just – I’ll be there in half an hour. We can stay on the phone, okay?”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to–”

“You’re hurt,” Jack says. He doesn’t mean to put a captain’s bark into it, but it happens anyway. “I’d do the same thing if you’d taken a bad check.”

“Oh sugar,” Bitty says. For a moment Jack thinks he’s going to tell him not to, but he doesn’t. Instead he sighs. “I dropped a pie.”

Jack feels the pain like a physical vice. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, being with Bitty the way he wanted – needed – to be with Bitty, but he never meant for it to actually hurt. It was love, right? It wasn’t supposed to be painful.

“Oh Bits,” he hears himself breathe. Bitty just sniffs in response.

“Why don’t – how about while you drive you just tell me about your game,” Bitty suggests. “And we can talk more when you get here.”

Jack agrees, although he doesn’t really want to talk about his game, and sets the phone on speaker on the passenger seat. The traffic’s good and he gets to Samwell earlier than he thinks he was going to. He parks in front of the Haus and sees Shitty’s car.

“Are you still in your room?” Jack asks.

He hears Bitty shift, like he’s getting off his bed.

“Yeah, are you outside?” he asks. Jack agrees and hears Bitty come down the stairs. This is possibly the second most impulsive thing Jack has ever done, but he thinks he’ll regret it about as much as he did the first most impulsive thing – that is to say, not at all.

“Who’s in the living room?” Jack asks.

“Uh, Lardo, Shitty, Ransom, Holster, and Nursey,” Bitty says.

All people Jack trusts. Which is good. It’s very good.

“Okay,” Jack says. “I’ll see you in a few seconds.”

He hangs up and opens the front door of the Haus. Bitty is just inside, in plain view of the people in the den. Jack ignores all of their excited clamouring at his presence, their joy over his game, and pulls Bitty into a bone crushing hug. Bitty returns it a little too tentatively for Jack’s liking. Especially since Bitty’s got red eyes and keeps sniffing. Jack is well aware of the others streaming out of the living room when he cups Bitty’s face.

“Hi honey,” he says, and he kisses Bitty, right there in front of them. Because it’s the Samwell Men’s Hockey team, and he might have graduated, but they’ve still got his back.

You know what? I love the cast of Eyewitness… I loved them before but after seeing what they did for last night’s episode I’m even more in love with them. Basically Philip came out officially on yesterday’s episode. And you know what the entire cast did? They did a fucking coming out party for Philip and watched the episode together! This is just commitment and love towards their show and the characters. When have we seen something like this happen recently? Also if you follow them on social media, especially James and Tyler, they’re so supportive towards the LGBTQ+ community and just give us a whole new look into Lukas and Philip. So please people watch this show! Don’t let them kill it… 

sometimes adhd feels like those dreams where you’re aware it’s a dream but you still don’t have any control over it. you just kinda sit there watching things play out, knowing what should be happening and knowing what you should be doing to put that into effect but you can’t and that’s the worst part.

and all the dreams become nightmares. and people say, “but if you’re lucid in your dreams then why don’t you just change your dreams to make them happy?” and it seems so simple and you wonder if maybe you’re just not trying hard enough. but every night the same thing happens and you wonder if it’s just going to be like this forever.

Pony: Why did Johnny and you go to the movies without me?

Dally:  How about you go fuck yourself I didn’t ask for your opinion or impute so go do whatever the fuck you do somewhere the fuck else we didn’t go see this movie for the fact we are ddlg or kink related we went because I wanted to see the fucking movie I’m the daddy btw a 22 year old guy who fucking likes movies if they are good so go fuck your self because I’m planning on watching it again and guess what you can’t fucking stop me so you need to grow the fuck up this isn’t even inappropriate your just looking to start shit so move the fuck along you piece of fucking shit and guess what I carry a fucking pistol on me to guess you have a problem about that to so just go to your safe zone where you can play big and bad like you have any fucking clue how this world works and quit trying to tell someone how to live their life if you got a problem you can come find me my name is loveless bitch

I really wanna make another cp oc

The first of a series of four pictures about Croix’s instinctual desire to gain weight every winter.

You see, jackalopes like many species, gained weight for the winter to prepare for mating season.
Jackalopes are a headbutting species, and contest for dominance. The more weight, the stronger the headbutt.
And while they are a civilized race now, the blood of their ancestors still runs in their veins.


“I can’t help but notice you’ve been staring at my icecream Croix.”
“I’m just lost in thought.”
“And it’s funny, because you’re sitting there with your own.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re basically eye humping my icecream.”
“I’m eye… looking it. Your icecream.”

“You want to eat my icecream.”
“I just… regret not getting more, that’s all.”
“So I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“Roland, let’s not tarnish what icecream means to us.”
“I’ll let you have my icecream, if…”
“If what.”

“I’ll let you have my icecream if you can go five minutes without licking your own.”
“And if I lose?”
“You have to watch Zootopia with me.”
“Out of the question.”
“I guess I’ll just start licking my icecream then. Ohh… it feels so good…”
“Stop that.”

How about you go fuck yourself I didn’t ask for your opinion or impute so go do whatever the fuck you do somewhere the fuck else we didn’t go see this movie for the fact we are ddlg or kink related we went because I wanted to see the fucking movie I’m the daddy btw a 22 year old guy who fucking likes movies if they are good so go fuck your self because I’m planning on watching it again and guess what you can’t fucking stop me so you need to grow the fuck up this isn’t even inappropriate your just looking to start shit so move the fuck along you piece of fucking shit and guess what I carry a fucking pistol on me to guess you have a problem about that to so just go to your safe zone where you can play big and bad like you have any fucking clue how this world works and quit trying to tell someone how to live their life if you got a problem you can come find me my name is loveless bitch

Watching Detective Shows with Tim Drake Headcanons

AN: I got inspired by my own headcanon, what the heck? Ah well, just a little fun I guess.

>>>>——————–>

Watching detective shows with Tim Drake would include:

> It’s next to impossible for you to not know who the murderer is before the show has finished. Tim, try’s to keep it to himself but ends up muttering it half way through or simply telling you once he’s figured it out and you’re just silently crying because you wanted to have that moment at the end of the show.

> Taking prevention methods to make him shut up, for example throwing a pillow at him whenever he goes to spoil the ending or interrupting him so he can never finish.
“I know -”
“Tim. Don’t say it.”
“But it’s the -”
“Don’t do it Timmy, just keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut.”
Make me.”
“…What the heck Tim?”

> You’ve probably had play fights over trying to get Tim to be quiet and once ended up hovering over him on the floor when you were originally seated on the sofa. Dick walked in and just kinda observed the position you were in with a smirk before directing his attention to the TV briefly.
“Yeah, it was that John guy who did it.”
You just collapse on your boyfriend with a whimper as he wraps his arms around you.
“Hey, at least it wasn’t me this time (y/n).”
“Why did Batman train all of you with superior detective skills and why do you all use them to spoil endings?”

> You have resorted to straddling Tim on multiple occasions with your hand/finger over his mouth so he doesn’t mutter the ending. In your distracted state, your hand just slips onto his chest as you’re enthralled in the show and Tim will take that opportunity to get close enough to whisper huskily into your ear.
“It was the maid.”
“Oh my gosh Tim! Why?!”

> Tim does not like being wrong about these things, not that he is at any point but you make him think so as a revenge tactic. They’re especially effective if he leaves half way through once he’s spoils the ending for you and gotten back to work.
“Hey Tim, it wasn’t the maid.”
No matter what he’s doing, he’ll be by your side in seconds with a shocked look on his face and basically interrogating you.
“What? Who else could it have been? That makes no logical sense, the butler and Lord had an alibi whilst the Lady of the House couldn’t have reached the scene of the murder in time to commit it so how?”
“Yeah well turns out the butler had accomplices that he paid and then made himself an alibi.”
“On a butlers salary (y/n)? Really?”
“Yes. Just look at Alfred, he could murder anyone of us and no one would suspect a thing.”
Tim will go and check on the internet soon after and find out that he was right all along then get irritated for getting distracted so easily whilst whining about how you could do that to him.

> Once watched Scooby Doo the Movie which Tim had surprisingly never seen before, using that to your advantage you quickly came up with this theory as to why Scrappy Doo was behind the island curse that actually made perfect sense.
“…and Scrappy isn’t apart of their mystery group anymore.”
“Yeah that seems logical.” Tim was genuinely impressed that you beat him to it and that you figured it all out so fast, however maybe he wanted to see the end of the movie without spoilers. Now he knows what it feels like.
You did not tell Tim you had seen the movie beforehand.

> Despite all that though, it’s nice to just see Tim kind of take a break from vigilantism to sit and watch films/series with you.

steggyisimmortal  asked:

I'm watching Love Actually and it's making me think of your fic Special Relationship. The part where the Prime Minister is going around to the houses looking for Natalie but especially the part where the little girls are asking him to sing a Christmas carol.

Quick note: I was just going to jot down a brief drabble…and then this grabbed hold of me and it will now be a full-length chapter…I just have to finish my Secret Santa gifts first lol


Peggy dropped onto the most comfortable couch in 10 Downing Street–hideously yellow, over two hundred years old, and the softest thing imaginable–and kicked her feet up, her high heels flying toward the portrait of some stuffy, forgettable prime minister from three hundred years ago. Her briefcase, bright red and embossed with the seal of the PM in gold, sat on the table in front of her, right next to a generous three fingers of scotch.

She took a swig from the glass and popped the briefcase open. Right on top sat a stack of Christmas cards, wrapped in a rubber band. A sticky note written in Angie’s neat script was placed on the top card.

READ THESE - A RANDOM SAMPLE!

Peggy snorted. It was typical of Angie to “encourage” her to do the parts of the job she hated, like Prime Minister’s Questions or reading a bunch of cards from pretentious blowhards, with an exclamation point. It rarely worked, but she always gave Angie points for trying. She set the cards aside and rifled through the briefcase, which was full of files and briefings. She scowled at the idea of doing work on Christmas Eve. Intelligence and economics briefings were not conducive to Christmas cheer. Ever.

She sighed and pulled the rubber band from around the stack of cards, shooting it toward the far wall. She winced and whispered an apology as it struck Winston Churchill right in the nose. 

She flipped through the stack quickly, each card containing a perfunctory greeting from MPs and members of the House of Lords. Midway through, a beautiful card caught her eye. It was a hand-drawn rendition of the White House Christmas Tree, and Peggy smiled. There was only one person who would have sent it to her.

Dear Peggy, it read, Merry Christmas. (Or is it Happy Christmas? You Brits say both and it is very confusing). My Christmas will not be as merry because you are not with me, and every day is a little less bright when I don’t get to see your face. 

Angie promised she would sneak this card in for me, but I don’t know if you will see it in time for my Christmas wish to come true. The Howlers are having a reunion in London this year, and I want nothing more than to sneak away from the craziness and whisk you away. Waking up beside you on Christmas morning sounds like the greatest possible Christmas gift. It was a small miracle that I was able to come for this trip, but my security and protocol officers believe it would be improper to visit you, as it would be perceived as an official visit. I think it’s stupid, but presidents have less power than you may think.

I’ll be staying on High Street through Christmas day, in the area that Falsworth describes as the “dodgy end.” I don’t know if that means anything to you, or if you’ll get this card in time. If you do, I would love to see you. If you are reading this after the fact, know that each one of my thoughts are with you.

Merry Christmas, Peggy. I love you.

-Your Steve

Peggy stared at the card, a wide grin spreading over her face. Steve was here, in London. It was the best Christmas gift she could have ever received. She pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket and pressed his speed dial. It rang four times and went to voicemail. She groaned and tried twice more, with no success. 

She sighed–of course Steve would choose today not to answer his phone–and rang the motor pool for a car. She rushed to the door, clumsily sliding her shoes on as she went. 

“I’m going out,” she told the cop at the door cheerfully. “Don’t wait up!”

She slid into the car and instructed the driver to head for High Street. “The dodgy end, if you please.”

The motorcade arrived in short order, and her driver said, “Here we are, ma’am. What’s the number?”

She peered out the window to see what was quite possibly the longest residential street in London. “Oh God. I have no idea.” And Steve still wasn’t picking up his bloody phone. She heaved a sigh and got out of the car. They would have to do this the old fashioned way.

She knocked on the first door on the street, a one hanging prominently against the wood. The door swung open to reveal an elderly woman.

“Hello, is there a Steve staying here?”

The woman shook her head. “No, sorry.”

“Right,” Peggy replied, turning away. “Thank you, sorry to disturb your evening.”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you the Prime Minister?”

Peggy spun back around with a wince. She had been hoping to avoid this exact scenario. “Um. Yes? Merry Christmas?”

The woman let out a happy sigh, and Peggy soldiered on. “Yes, it’s part of the service now. Trying to get around to everyone by New Years. Have a lovely evening.”

She all but sprinted to the next house, not wishing to get stuck talking to constituents this evening. The next twenty or so houses passed by easily. Most people were either out or eager to get back to their families, so they didn’t linger beyond a polite “No, sorry,” when Peggy asked after Steve. 

The door to Number 56 opened to an empty foyer. Peggy stared into the house, unsure what to do. She heard a loud cough below her line of sight, and she looked down to see three young girls, all adorned in tutus, watching her expectantly.

“Well, hello. Is there a Steve staying here?”

“No, there isn’t,” one of the girls replied, the other two nodding sagely.

“Oh dear,” Peggy sighed, turning away.

“Are you singing carols?” the same girl asked, hands on her hips.

“Oh, no. No, I’m not.”

“Please, ma’am, please,” a second girl said, and the other two chimed in until their pleading was all Peggy could hear.

She exchanged a glance with the officer accompanying her. “Well, I suppose I could, if you’d like.”

The girls cheered, and Peggy took a fortifying breath. She was good at many things, but singing was not one of them.

“Right. Um,” Peggy dithered, desperately wishing she had just said goodbye and went on her way. “Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen”

She looked to the officer, who chimed in with a spectacular voice, much to her surprise. “When the snow lay roundabout, deep and crisp and even.” 

Peggy and the officer finished the verse with only a little embarrassment as the girls danced around the foyer, laughing and kicking their feet in the air to an unknown rhythm. She extricated herself as graciously as possible, though she was exceedingly grateful that no one in the next dozen homes mistook them for carolers.

At Number 100, Peggy knocked on the door weakly, her excitement at seeing Steve tempered by the many blocks of walking in her impractical heels and without a coat. She was tired and shivering, and when the door opened to reveal a young woman in a pajama set, her shoulders slumped.

“Hello. Is Steve staying here?” she asked wearily, already preparing herself for the inevitable answer.

“No,” the young woman replied, and Peggy turned away, disappointed. “Though there is some sort of reunion next door, and I thought I heard someone say the name Steve. There’s been police cars and limos and everything over the last day or so.”

Peggy slowly spun on her heel, scarcely believing what she had just heard. “Oh. That’s brilliant. Thanks!”

“You’re not who I think you are, are you?” the woman asked.

Peggy chuckled wryly. “Yes, I’m rather afraid I am. I apologize on behalf of my government, we’ll do better next year. Merry Christmas.”

She took the few steps between 100 and 102, heart squeezing in her chest. She missed Steve terribly–phone calls and video chats were a very poor substitution to his presence, and now that she was in front of the door where he was likely staying, she worried that this was a dream, that she would wake up alone in her big house on Christmas morning, this whole night a scotch-flavored figment of her imagination.

She squared her shoulders and rapped on the door. Better to try and fail than never try at all. The door swung open, and she was blasted by warm air and boisterous laughter. The entryway was full of big, burly men dressed in truly horrid Christmas sweaters, and they all went silent at the sight of her on the doorstep. 

Peggy cleared her throat. “Um, right. Hello, is Steve staying here?”

They all looked curiously at her, and she fidgeted in the doorway. She thought she could see Barnes’ face in the back of the group, but it was difficult to be sure. 

As Peggy and the occupants of the house were locked in some strange sort of showdown, heavy footsteps came down the stairs. Steve appeared at the top of the landing, shouting, “Hey, where’d you assholes put my phone? It wasn’t funny when I first ran, and it isn’t funny now–”

He froze in his tracks halfway down the stairs at the sight of Peggy in the doorway, still in her suit, a run in her stockings and her updo on the edge of collapse. “Peggy?”

She sighed in relief. “Hello, Steve.”

The Commandos turned in unison to face Steve, whose cheeks flushed under their scrutiny. “Right. Guys, this is Prime Minister Peggy Carter. Peg, these are the Howling Commandos, my old unit. Dum Dum, Gabe, Jim, Monty, Jacques, and you remember Bucky,” he said, pointing out each of the men as he listed them off. 

“Gentlemen.” Peggy nodded at the group and resisted the urge to give a pathetic half-wave. She had been in plenty of weird, uncertain situations as both spy and politician, and she thought she had tamped down her worst, most awkward instincts, but apparently meeting her boyfriend’s friends brought them all back with a vengeance.

Before she could completely humiliate herself, Steve sprinted down the last few steps and just about bowled her over in a bear hug, wrapping his huge arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. Her stomach swooped as her feet left the pavement, and she let out an embarrassingly girlish giggle.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

“I missed you too,” she replied in the same tone. She patted his shoulder and, at a normal volume, said, “Now put me down. People will talk.”

to be continued…