#and stevie smith doing their hair of course! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anarcoqueer1994 · 3 years

Text

4th of July, 1932

It was Steve's 14th birthday, not that anyone would remember, not when he shared a birthday with America's number one day to blow up things. Sarah even had to work today, regretfully telling him they would have a little birthday dinner tomorrow. She gives him a plate of deviled eggs to bring down. He doesn't give her trouble, he knows his ma has to work any shift she could get to support them. He'd bring in a little doing free lance drawing in the park, but not nearly enough.

Anyhow, the neighborhood was having a block party for the holiday, so he decided to go down and enjoy, knowing Bucky would be there. In fact, when he opened his door to head out, Bucky was already on his steps waiting for him.

"Happy Birthday, Stevie!" Bucky smiles at him before pulling him into a big hug, carefully maneuvering as to not drop the eggs. Usually this would be fine, he and Bucky hugged all the time. But Bucky turned fifteen a few months back and had had that growth spurt, putting him almost 8 inches taller than his friend. That's when Steve started to realize that he may like Bucky more than a friend, spending countless nights praying to God to fix him, to make that feeling go away.

But when Bucky hugged him, all those feelings flooded back in as usual, prayer not working. He wanted to pull away, remind Bucky that guys their age aren't supposed to be that affectionate with each other(at least that's what Mr. Barnes had said), but he didn't. He just leaned into it for as long as Bucky wanted.

When the hug finally did break, Bucky was beaming at his friend. "So ready to get down there? Mrs. Horvat made hot dogs, and I don't trust there to be too many for long."

The golden haired boy couldn't help but smile back drawn in by warmth radiating from his best friend. "Sure thing, Buck. I'm ready." Bucky throws his arm around his shoulder as they walk down together.

When they get to the festivities, Steve drops his plate off at a big table(actually crates with some old boards laid across them) on the side walk. They walk around, enjoying the day, gorging themselves on food. Steve notices that Bucky's arm barely leaves his shoulder the entire day. The increased height difference though, made him more conscious of it. It felt like Bucky was pulling him, closer than usual. But he couldn't find it in him to complain.

Unfortunately, Steve isn't the only one who noticed how close the boys are. Walking past a group of women, some being mom's of a lot of the guys they had gone to school with(both having dropped out to help their parents back home, who needed more than an 8th grade education anyways?) Steve heard one whisper to another "Do you think their mothers know?" The other replies "Seriously, boys that age shouldn't be so cozy..."

Steve could feel his cheeks going pink, self conscious as they keep walking. He pulls away from Bucky. Bucky for his part looks...sad, like Steve had hurt him by suddenly pulling away. He has been wrapped up in telling Steve about some pulp novel he had swiped the other day and was reading, he hadn't heard the comments.

"What is it, Stevie? Are you okay?" Worry coats Bucky's features.

"Uh...yeah Buck, just um...guys out age can't act like that, don't, um want anyone to think we are pansy's." Steve tries not to look hurt by his own words but is impossible when Bucky looks like he just got kicked in the stomach.

But he recovers, flashing a fake smile to his friend. "Yea...I guess you're right, Steve."

Steve decides to leave it at that even though he's known Bucky long enough to know his friend's feelings are hurt. They continue to walk the streets, conscious not to touch each other. Unfortunately this isn't enough for some of their ex-classmates.

A group of them sat on some front porch steps of a brownstone. There were a couple of guys and few dames, all who had been in school with the two boys. As they walked by, a boy, Danny Vesely, whispered something into a pretty little redhead's, Mary Anne Smith, ear, pointing at Steve and then to Bucky. Steve knows he should keep his mouth shut, but when he pointed at Bucky, it became personal. But before he can say something, Bucky is already in action. He had seen them point at Steve.

"What's so funny, Danny?" He snaps at the boy making the comment.

"Nothing Barnes, just commenting how cute you and your best girl look."

Steve turns red, looking at the ground. Steve knew he didn't look as strong or manly as other boys his age, his ma assuring him he was just a late bloomer. That didn't make it feel any better when he would be called a girl.

He can feel heat radiating of his friend, anger surging through him. Steve may be embarrassed but he looks up again, ready to back his friend up if their is a fight, putting on a tough face.

Bucky shoots back "You better shut your ugly mug!" Bucky looks ready to kill, hating that Danny is trying to humiliate him.... humiliate Steve.

"Calm down, Barnes. It's nice that you are defending you girlfriend's honor and all but you are being a little dramatic." Danny smirks. "I guess my big brother was right, all you guys who are light in the loafers are so dramatic."

Mary Anne and few of the other kids sitting there chime in in a sing-songy voice. "Bucky and Steve sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Now Bucky is red as the girls start to giggle. Bucky knows he can't hit girls, but Danny and the three other boys laughing are fair game. He steps closer and before Danny can react, his fist makes contact with Danny's nose, causing it to bleed. One of his friends steps up to retaliate, but Steve steps between him and Bucky and by some grace of god actually lands a pretty hard punch in the face. But Bucky sees this and knows that the two other guys will soon be coming to back up their friends. He understands they will be out numbered and refuses to let Steve get hurt.

Without out thinking, he grabs Steve's hand, pulling him away from the group. They run until the others stop chasing them, hiding in an alley, and then...Steve laughs. The adrenaline of the fight and running away from guys together, felt good. Honestly doing anything with Bucky felt good. He feels silly for pulling away from Bucky earlier. Bucky smiles, because of course he does. Those mean words didn't mean anything, really, as long as his Steve was happy and smiling.

Darkness is starting to fall, and the fireworks show over the water was supposed to start soon. As they stood in the alley, still holding hands, Bucky spots a fire escape ladder. "Hey Stevie?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks plainly.

"Don't be stupid, Buck. Of course I trust you, punk." Steve replies like it is the most obvious thing in the world. Steve can't think of a single person he has ever trusted more than his best friend from preactically the day he was born. Their mother's had been friends and Bucky, who was a who was a whole 16 months older, wanted to hold "the baby" all the time. It was "his baby," Of course not realizing he was a baby himself, but as he got older, he never stopped wanting to hold "his baby," even if Steve was too dense to realize that.

Bucky drags him to the fire escape. "Follow me,Jerk." He smiles and of course Steve does follow him, They make it the top, until they are on tha roof. "What are we doing up here?" Steve questions.

"Watching the fireworks." Bucky replies simply with a smile that Steve can't help but mirror back. Bucky hesitantly takes Steve's hand again, and when Steve doesn't pull away, he laces his fingers with his friends, taking him to a spot on the roof that seemed clean enough to sit.

They wait for the fireworks, and when they finally start, Steve can only focus on Bucky and the way his face lights ups as the colors explode in the sky. He isn't sure what compels him to do this, but he rests his head on Bucky's shoulder. He feels the brunette tense for a moment, before he wraps his arm around Steve's shoulder.

He whispers softly "Hey Stevie?"

"Yea?" Steve's voice equally as quiet.

"Did you know that these fireworks aren't for the Fourth of July? Who cares about a dusty old country anyways? They are for you to celebrate the birthday of the best fella in the world." Bucky says in a matter-of-fact manner, you would be forgiven for thinking he actually believes this.

But he has been saying this to Steve every year since he learned to talk, so Steve was expecting this. It still didn't change the way Steve ended up blushing, this year feeling like there was more weight behind his words. "Thanks, Buck..."

"Don't thank me, it's true." Bucky insists before continuing. "One more question, Stevie."

"Shoot." Steve responds, head still firmly planted on Bucky's shoulder.

"What do you want for your birthday?" Bucky asks plainly, but Steve could feel Bucky's hand lazily stroking his shoulder.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He know what he wants...and he figured after the events of today, he could ask. If Bucky is repulsed, he can play it off like a joke. In a voice almost too small to be audible, Steve answers "A kiss..."

Bucky's hand stills on Steve's shoulder before pulling away. Steve begins to panic, lifting his head off of Bucky's shoulder. He starts to make up a lie in his head, to brush this off, and never talk about it again. But when he looks up at Bucky, he had adjusted so he was sitting in front of Steve now, smiling. He softly replies "Okay." And Steve feels like his heart will beat right out of his chest and fly away. He wonders if Bucky would catch it for him.

His hands go clammy as he is watching Bucky lean in, slowly, almost too slowly. Steve closes his eyes, nervously leaning to meet Bucky, and their lips connect and it's better than the fireworks going off around them. It's chaste, and awkward, the awkwardness of a first kiss for both of them but unbelievably sweet.

When they pull away, both are smiling contently. Bucky takes his place back next to Steve, wrapping both arms around him now, threatening to never let him go. As they watch the rest of the show, he says "Happy Birthday, Stevie."

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #steve x bucky #pre serum steve #captain america #fanfic #Stucky fanfic #4rh of July

21 notes · View notes

rawiswhore · 3 years

Text

Various WCW, WWF, and ECW Wrestlers x Fem Reader- “I Touch Myself”

I actually originally planned on typing and posting this fanfic on Sunday, but Wrestlemania was on that day, and I wondered if I should type a fanfic set at Wrestlemania or what I originally planned on typing, so I typed and posted a fanfic set at Wrestlemania instead.

Also, I typed this fanfic yesterday and wanted to post it yesterday, but didn't have time to finish it, so I'm posting it today.

________________________________________________________________

In 1996 and 1997, a wrestling company known as WCW had higher ratings than the WWF, and the WWF was once the most popular wrestling company in the world, and even still is today now known as the WWE.

You had signed with the WWF in 1996, and one of the rules you had under their contract is that you weren't allowed to work for other wrestling companies, which was so lame.

You've seen some of WCW, and some of the wrestlers over in WCW are hot and sexy.

You wish you could hook up with some of the hotties over in WCW, but sadly, you can't.

Lousy contract.

So what can you do?

Simple, and I'll explain it later.

When the summer of 1997 was almost over, you were lying in bed one night in a hotel room, with all of the lights in the room turned off.

You thought about how hot some of those men in WCW were and what you wish you could do with them if you were with them.

You had shut your eyes, though you're trying to not fall asleep, and one of your hands had slipped down your thong panties and the pads of your fingers had touched your vulva.

You started picturing and fantasizing about a wrestler in WCW that many people probably have never even heard of, and the reason why is because he was never pushed that much and was booked as a "jobber": someone who makes another wrestler look good, and that wrestler is Jim Powers.

What a cookie cutter sounding wrestling name.

Despite that corny wrestling moniker, Jim Powers is really hot and sexy, so hot, there was even a WCW moment involving him, an Ultimate Warrior knockoff named the Renegade who had ditched his face paint and fried, crunchy hair, a wrestler named Joe Gomez and a skinny twinkish wrestler called Alex Wright walking on the beach together and taking their shirts off.

This moment was obvious fan service for some of the women watching WCW.

When you fantasized about Jim Powers that night, you fantasized of him wrapping his huge, muscular arms embracing you and pulling you close to his chest, and you had lifted your hands and wrapped your fingers atop of his biceps and gently squeezed them.

His biceps were rock hard, and that wasn't the only thing that was rock hard on him (winkwinknudgenudge).

Jim isn't the only hot one in WCW.

One of the more popular wrestlers that was in the biggest, most notorious wrestling faction in WCW; the wrestling faction that would increase WCW's ratings, was Scott Hall, who used to play Razor Ramon in the WWF.

Scott was even hotter in WCW than in the WWF as Razor Ramon, and he'd get even sexier as the 90's were coming to a close.

Scott Hall/Razor Ramon is known for having a very hairy chest, and your brain switched to now thinking about yourself in front of Scott Hall with your face buried in his chest hair, while Jim Powers was standing behind you and had his massive, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

As you were fantasizing about this, the tips and pads of your fingers started gently caressing and stroking vertically up and down your clitoris.

The tip of your finger scratched your clit underneath your clitoral hood, trying to make sure you feel something, and you felt a slight little tickle under that hood.

Rubbing your clitoris isn't the only thing you can rub on your body to make you feel good.

Your other hand slipped underneath your oversized T-shirt you slept in tonight and let the pads and tips of your fingers touch your stomach, where you began to vertically slide and elevate those fingers up your torso.

As you slid your fingers up your flesh, you fantasized about that scenario with your face buried in Scott Hall's chest while Jim Powers was behind you with his arms wrapped around you.

Blood is already rushing to your clitoris fantasizing about this, swelling your clit up and making you even hornier.

Room for one more, honey.

There's another wrestler in WCW who had gotten even sexier when he ditched the face paint, messy hair and even the Ultimate Warrior knockoff gimmick, and that wrestler is the aforementioned Renegade.

The hottest the Renegade ever looked was probably in 1996, before he grew facial hair, so you imagined the way the Renegade looked that year, where, while you have Scott Hall in front of you and Jim Powers behind you, the Renegade is on one of your sides, wrapping his massive, huge muscles around your waist, but not squeezing and hugging onto you too tight.

It's like you're trapped and can't be released from these hot men all over you, but you want this.

It's also almost like these men are shielding and protecting you.

It feels good when you take your clothes off and the air is all over your skin, maybe you can undress tonight and masturbate naked.

These little fantasies are tame and mild, so you decided to make your fantasies get a little bit naughtier.

Lex Luger has crossed over to WCW during the late 90's, and for those who don't know, Lex Luger was promoted by the WWF in 1993/1994 to be the next Hulk Hogan and the next face of the company since Hogan left, and they turned Lex's character into a patriotic, all American hero, except Lex didn't have any of Hogan's charisma and audiences didn't really click with Lex.

Lex eventually joined WCW by the end of 1995, and he actually was kind of sexy.

Lex's body, even during his days in the WWF, was always glazed and slathered in baby oil, and your mind had abandoned the thought of Scott, Jim and the Renegade all around you and switched over to just Lex.

You imagined being with Lex the way he looked in 1996/1997 with his hair hanging down and not wearing a shirt, and you imagined one of your hands caressing baby oil vertically up and down his torso, your palm and fingers feeling the ripples of his muscles on his torso.

You didn't just imagine caressing baby oil on his torso, but also sliding it up and down across his arms as well.

He, meanwhile, is just staring at your hand caressing that baby oil on his body, the baby oil making his body shinier.

Baby oil isn't the only thing that can make someone's skin shinier, and so your mind thought of something else.

This time, your mind began to think of him the way he looked in 1996 and 1997, his hair hanging down and not tied back in a ponytail, his body is stark naked with not a single stitch of clothes on him.

You pictured that Lex in a locker room's shower, where the floor is white little tiles, and you were fantasizing that you were naked in that shower with him, where your hand was caressing and stroking his body with body wash while he stood under a showerhead, the water pouring and washing away the foamy wash off of his washboard abdomen.

When the body wash had evaporated and disappeared off of his abs and trickled down his legs, his abdomen looked shinier, like you had smeared baby oil on his abs.

You didn't just rub his abs with that body wash, but his pecs as well, where, of course, the water had rinsed the foam off of them, his pectoral muscles looking shiny under the buzzing lights on the ceiling.

Lex doesn't really look all that hot with wet hair though, and to be honest, Lex isn't really that sexy or hot of a wrestler.

As you fantasized about Lex, your fingers, especially the pads and tips of them, were crawling up your skin to your breasts, you felt these cold little tingles while your fingers brushed up your skin.

If you had any body hair on your legs and even arms, you're pretty sure the hair on your body would stand up over the sharp feel of your fingers caressing your skin.

Rushes are transmitting to your areolas whilst your fingers elevate up your flesh.

Honestly, these fantasies involving Lex Luger are a bit too tame for your taste, now to go all out wild, what you really want.

Your brain switched to thinking about something else.

This time, you fantasized about a sauna or steam room, and inside that steam room was WCW alumni Scott Hall, the Renegade circa 1996 with his hair hanging down, Jim Powers, Lex Luger circa 1996/1997, Scotty Riggs without facial hair (looking how he did during the last months of '97), Eric Bischoff in January of '97, Joe Gomez, Raven (who just joined the roster and left ECW), Stevie Richards without facial hair, the blond one in this WCW duo called High Voltage, Chris Benoit (yes, THAT Chris Benoit, before he, well y'know...), and maybe even Chris Jericho.

They're not the only ones in this steam room, so is some of the WWF roster: Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley with his hair hanging down, Billy Gunn/RockaBilly with blond hair, Jeff Hardy, Leif Cassidy without facial hair, Marty Jannetty, Brian Pillman in late 1996, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith, Scott Putski without facial hair, Scott Taylor, Brian Christopher, and these Hispanic wrestlers named Heavy Metal, Hector Garza, Latin Lover and Pierroth without his mask and hair tied back in a ponytail.

You could probably even invite Thurman "Sparky" Plugg in late 1996 and Jeff Jarrett in early 1996 in this fantasy too, though you feel embarrassed to put them in there.

Finally, one wrestling icon you're putting in this fantasy is Rowdy Roddy Piper in during the late 80's and early 90's, when he had long hair and didn't have bangs.

He is kinda cute with long hair.

All of these aforementioned men were sitting in this sauna stark naked with nothing but a towel wrapped around their waists, hiding their genitals, and you entered the sauna, where you were the only girl in that sauna.

You had shed your towel off of your body, revealing you weren't wearing anything under that towel, showing your nude body off in front of them.

After they made some silly wolf whistles at you and had ear-to-ear smiles spreading across their faces, you walked up to these wrestlers and approached them, where they all disrobed themselves and it lead to you getting gangbanged, and you don't mean gangbanged as in being shot with guns, at least not the literal definition of a gun.

Though, how is that even possible?

What can you do if you're gangbanged by 30 men?

Well, you could ride these men's dicks one by one, but that's not really a gangbang, more like running a train.

You could ride one of their dicks while you're sucking on another dick and masturbating 2 other cocks in front of your face while 2 other wrestlers are rubbing the tips and heads of their penises in circles on your areolas and jerking their cocks off, while several other wrestlers are jerking off in front of your face and your hands sometimes take turns to crank up and down their shafts, masturbating them, as well as taking turns to suck on their cocks as well, and each wrestler in that sauna all gets a turn to do that or have that happen to them.

You've had a gangbang like that in the summer of '97, where wrestlers from the WWF and WCW had exercised at the same gym, and you invited the sexiest wrestlers in the WWF to the locker room of a gym, where you had this gangbang with them, and after they had all jizzed, you let who you thought were the sexiest men in WCW to do the same gangbang these WWF men did, and after they jizzed, the last ones you let do the same aforementioned gangbang to you were some other hot men from the WWF.

In fact, those hot men from WCW you had a gangbang with are some of the same men you're fantasizing about tonight.

That was one of the happiest and best days of your life, and probably their lives as well.

That was probably the only time, for now, anyway, where these men from WCW had sex with you.

Either way, you were trying to fantasize about getting gangbanged by the hottest men from the WWF, WCW and even a few hotties from ECW as well in a sauna.

While you tried to fantasize about this, your fingers had reached one of your nipples, which had become erect, and you love the feel of your nipples being rubbed and tweaked, you love that feeling even more than having your clit rubbed.

Thank God you're fantasizing about this at the right time, and the pads of your fingers at your nipple began to rub horizontally left and right, back and forth on your areola.

You actually have pressed your fingers on your clitoris before, and it feels really good, you can feel a little something under your vagina, so as you rubbed your areola, the pads of your fingers this time pressed down on your clitoral hood, pressing until you feel a hard surface under your vagina where you can feel something.

You bit your bottom lip and slightly arched your head back, your toes curled and bunched up, your lips trying to block a moan from being released.

Thank God that you didn't have anyone in bed with you to hear you moan.

Your moans sound more like a gasp than an orgasmic moan, and chills were running down your spine while you masturbated yourself.

You tried to make your fingers vertically rub up and down your clitoris while they were also pressing down on it as well, did it work?

Somewhat, yeah.

Rubbing faster might do the trick in making you cum as well, so you increased the pace when you rubbed your clit, rubbing faster than usual.

You didn't just rub your clit vertically, but also rubbed your clitoris around in circles with the pads of your fingers.

Getting gangbanged by several WWF, WCW and a few ECW wrestlers isn't the only thing that's sexy.

You've been gangbanged in locker rooms several times, and so your mind began to imagine being in a locker room instead, where you're getting gangbanged by these sexy aforementioned WWF, WCW and a few ECW wrestlers that you imagined being gangbanged in a sauna with.

You imagined being stark naked with these aforementioned wrestlers swarming all around you, masturbating several of these wrestlers' cocks in front of your face and tits and taking turns to suck their dicks and lick their shafts, getting their precum and jizz all over your face and breasts and in your mouth, where you swallow their cum.

Plus, you could maybe even ride one or 2 of these wrestler's cocks; one is in your pussy and the other in your asshole.

As you fantasized of this, your fingers on your areola began to switch this time; putting your nipple in between the pad of your thumb and index finger, where you began to tweak and pinch that nipple, turning it a bit.

You tried rubbing your clit even faster than usual fantasizing about this, and you really want something like this.

High pitched little moans are coming out of your mouth, and you hope that the neighbors next door won't hear them.

It's gonna probably take some time until you really do cum.

Your pussy feels like it's getting wetter and wetter and releasing something through the pores of your vagina while you're masturbating, and you're breathing short little gasps as you masturbate yourself.

You haven't been faking your orgasm tonight, you really do feel this way when you're touching yourself, and you keep elevating yourself up more and more.

You've also been trying to stay awake and not fall asleep despite your eyes being closed and eyelids feeling heavy.

Like your nipple, your fingers then began to place your clitoris in between the pads of your index finger and thumb, where you squeezed and pressed your clit together.

You've tried this before, and it feels really good too.

You can feel a little something down there when you're squeezing your clit together.

Goddamn it, you really want some of these hot men from WCW and the WWF right now, but at least when you can have these hot men from the WWF and you've had them many times.

You removed your thumb off of your nipple, and this time, you began to run the tip of your index finger on your areola in circles over and over again.

While these sexual fantasies are pretty hot, are these the perfect gangbangs?

Now some of these men are undeniably hot, like Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Jeff Hardy, Rob Van Dam, Scott Hall, and Jim Powers, but then there's Brian Pillman, who's the least sexiest out of all of these men.

You're also unsure if you should have Jeff Jarrett and Sparky Plugg in these fantasies, hell, even the name Sparky Plugg is corny (so is his gimmick).

Speaking of fantasies, you've heard of something known as a glory hole, which can sometimes be when someone is in a stall and there's one or more holes drilled in the stalls, and men poke and stick their penises in those holes where someone sucks and jerks those cocks off.

You even tried to recreate a glory hole not once, but twice in the summer of '97.

You imagined yourself in a narrow little stall, like the stall to a changing room, with several holes drilled in the sides, and those holes were filled with the penises of these sexy wrestlers you've been fantasizing about tonight.

In your fantasy, your fingers are wrapped around their shafts and masturbating their dicks, one cock is aiming at your face while another is pointing at one of your breasts, and while you're jerking them off you're sucking and licking on one wrestler's penis and swallowing his precum.

Each of these penises get a chance to get sucked, licked and masturbated in this fantasy, all of their precum gets in your face, in your mouth, down your throat and on your tits, and your hands are scrambling to another penis to pump their cocks quickly.

One thing that you've noticed that feels really good is when you rub your fingers over your clothed clitoris and areola, so your hand vertically elevated up your vagina and exited out of your panties, and lifted your hand out of under your shirt.

The tips of your fingers were a little gooey and wet from rubbing your moist pussy, despite your fingers rubbing your clit, not being up your twat, though you can always clean your fingers off with your mouth.

You placed the tips of your fingers over your clothed breast as well as your fingers over your clitoris shielded by your panties, where you began to vertically rub your fingers up and down your clit whereas your other fingers rubbed horizontally back and forth across your areola covered by your t-shirt this time.

This feels really, really good. If you've never done anything like this, I reccomend it.

The fabric of your panties nudged and attached to your areola and vagina, and you can feel your nipple poking and pointing through your T-shirt.

As you rubbed and masturbated yourself, you continued imagining that glory hole fantasy, imagining you're sucking and licking the hottest wrestler's cock like Shawn Michaels or Jeff Hardy, swallowing his precum, while you're masturbating Scott Hall's dick pointing at your face and jacking off Jim Powers' dick pointing at your tits.

Eventually, your mind drifts to fantasizing of sucking Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Rob Van Dam, Scott Hall or Jim Powers while jerking off Shawn Michaels, Jeff Hardy, the Renegade or even Scott Putski, and then the aforementioned ones getting their dicks jacked off get their cocks sucked as well.

Don't worry, even the likes of Brian Pillman, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith, and others get their dicks sucked and jerked off as well.

You're definitely not fantasizing of sucking and jacking off the really ugly wrestlers like most of the Dudley brothers from ECW, eeeech.

You actually wish you were a man, a gay man even, so that way, you can masturbate and jack off to these sexual fantasies you're having tonight.

One thing you haven't done tonight is try to put your fingers up your twat, maybe you can do that.

You wanna save the best for last; fantasizing about sucking and jacking off the hottest male wrestlers ever.

Maybe they'll make you cum, that's why you're saving the hottest and sexiest ones for last.

You're trying to rub your fingers over your clothed clitoris not just vertically, but horizontally, as well as rubbing your clit around in circles.

You're also rubbing the tips of your fingers over your fabric covered areola around in circles, you can feel your nipple sticking out in the middle.

You rubbed your clit fast and quick, running the pads of your fingers in circles over your clit.

You moaned and gasped while you rubbed your clit, your head arching back and your face and head looking like it's in an orgasmic state.

As you masturbated yourself, you fantasizing of sucking Shawn Michaels' cock, licking up his shaft and swallowing his precum, while you jerked off Rob Van Dam and Scott Hall, your fingers quickly moving to another shaft to masturbate Jeff Hardy, Jim Powers and Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

And in your fantasy, you grabbed another cock and moved it to your mouth, leaving Shawn's dick out of your mouth and sucking on Jeff Hardy or Rob Van Dam or Scott Hall while you jack off Shawn Michaels.

You mumbled and bit your lip, holding your moans back, and then, suddenly, your pussy had creamed, your twat becoming wetter than ever before, gushing your salty, slippery cum.

Your clitoris pounded and throbbed after you had came, and y'know how when you cum and you're a female, sometimes it feels like you've only came a little bit?

That wasn't the case with you.

While you didn't burst like a fire hydrant when you came, you were definitely wet in the panties, and you didn't pee your panties.

Despite that you've finally came, since you didn't get the chance to insert your fingers inside your twat, you lifted one of your hands off of your underwear and slid them down your panties, until your fingers touched your wet, slippery vulva.

Even though you're wearing panties, with your index and middle fingers attached to each other, to tried to insert those 2 fingers up your pussy hole, not your urethra where pee comes out, but the hole many cocks have entered; the hole babies are born from and menstrual blood flows out.

The tips of your fingers slowly were entering and penetrating into your wet twat hole, stretching your walls apart, and when your fingers were inside enough your cunt hole, you began to make those fingers fuck you like it's a penis, your fingers moving back and forth inside your pussy hole.

You didn't just fingerbang yourself, but you also pressed your thumb on your clit, moving your clit around in circles with your thumb, as well as still continued rubbing your fingers on your areola covered by fabric.

As you finger fucked yourself, you fantasized of these WWF, WCW and some ECW wrestlers you thought were sexy "running a train" on you, where they're all waiting in line to fuck you and each of them get a turn one by one.

You eventually got tired of finger fucking yourself, so you slid your fingers out of your twat, your fingers now gooey and sticky, but you moved your thumb off of your clit and started rubbing your clitoris with your fingers.

You rubbed your clit vertically, horizontally, and in circles with the tips and pads of your fingers.

You may as well call it a night right now, and you waited to drift off to sleep while still masturbating yourself.

When you were waiting and trying to fall asleep, you thought of these wrestlers you've fantasized about tonight all rubbing and caressing your naked body with body wash in a locker room shower, lathering your body up with foam, and they all get chances and have their hands traveling all over your body, while your hands are trying to touch on each of their chests and arms as well, rub the foamy body wash on their skin, trying to put your hands on their body parts and vertically caress them.

You have so many hot sexual fantasies with wrestlers that could be porn, and you even acted out some of your sexual fantasies with these professional wrestlers you've fantasized about.

When you woke up in the morning, your hand was still down your panties, though you still didn't continue masturbating when you fell asleep.

Y'know, Cyndi Lauper was one of the reasons the WWF blew up in popularity in the 1980's, she even guest starred in the WWF and had professional wrestlers and wrestling managers in her music videos.

And one of her most notorious songs is a song called "She Bop", about her masturbating.

________________________________________________________________

I actually tried fantasizing of getting gangbanged by so many hot men from the WWF, WCW and some from ECW (maybe even a few from modern WWE, NXT and AEW too) while I masturbated last night.

#wcw #wwf #ecw #1997 #90s #fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Do You Even Think About It?

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~8.8K Notes: Sam Smith is an absolute angel and I’ve been obsessively listening to their new album Love Goes. One of my favorites on the record is Kids Again, so I gave myself the opportunity to listen to it over and over again by writing a fic based on it. This is the product. Warnings: There be angst ahead. Summary:

Peter needs a job to help pay for graduate school, so MJ hooks him up at the breakfast for dinner restaurant she works at, Stevie's. It's not his dream job, but he likes the atmosphere and the cute sous chef who's chalk full of advice.

6 years later, Peter's mind is stuck on the young love he let go and the man who changed his world.

Or: A Starker love story told in flashback and set to a Sam Smith song.

Read on AO3 here.

November 2nd, 2020

Peter should’ve known the day would be an odd one when he heard Beyoncé’s Mine to start the day. Though his mind took many detours to the thought of Tony Stark, tangible things like their song made his heart ache just a little bit more than usual. It’d been years since he heard from him, and even after all that time, he still missed him – more than he usually cared to admit. Like it was six years prior, Peter sung along to the lyrics, the ghost of youth and Tony’s touch wrapping him up and surrounding him, dragging him under the weight of precious memories.

With Tony now on the forefront of his mind, Peter mindlessly went through his getting ready routine. His school had a pretty lenient dress code, so he slipped into straight-legged black trousers and a white button down, maroon cardigan combo. Topping off the outfit with all black Chuck Taylor’s, Peter made his way out to his kitchen to heat up the water for the French press that sat in a place of honor on the counter. Another Tony Stark influence, Peter realized as he portioned off his coffee serving and pressed down the pump, the delectable smell of freshly brewing caffeine bringing a soft smile to his face.

He didn’t do anything adventurous until he met Tony all those years ago – let alone make his coffee in a fancy French press. Tony’s love of food and fancy utensils to create and serve it rubbed off on him in a lot of ways, his brown eye’s catching the well-maintained cast-iron skillet sitting on the back burner of his stove. Sucking in a deep breath, Peter forced himself to see the remnants of Tony littered around his place. They lived so much life together in those short years together. It wasn’t surprising, now that he let himself think about it, how much Tony stilled ruled so many things about his life.

They changed the world together – Peter’s world specifically. It itched, how much he yearned to be that kid again; youth brought him happiness – the understanding of that now several years too late.

Forcing himself to get his shit together, Peter gathered his messenger bag and the lunch he packed the previous night before heading out of the house. He caught up on grading over the weekend, so a later than usual arrival wouldn’t be too debilitating. His mind was so caught up on other things, he marveled at the fact that he managed to get out the door at all. Sometimes, the feeling was so consuming – sometimes, he pushed through it and coped with their song on repeat his entire drive into work.

The day went by pretty easily, for the most part. Teaching advanced physics to high school aged students wasn’t too colossal of a task – he’d been working in the same classroom for the last six years; he could probably do half of his lesson plans with his hands tied behind his back. A majority of his students were those most would deem brainy, so there wasn’t much ruckus to deal with or discipline to dish out. Instead, he let his mind stray to Tony’s dark hair and the tan of his skin after a day spent down by the ocean. He stayed in the game just long enough to get through the day – then, Peter let his thoughts run away from him.

Before he knew it, he was behind the wheel of his car heading towards the east side of the city. Tony hadn’t lived there in years, but Peter did his best to avoid it, anyway. The corners of his mind that Tony occupied seemed like enough space to give him – visiting their old haunts felt like a step too far. Until now of course, his car idled by the all too familiar sidewalk, the blue door of Tony’s home still as bright as it looked back then. Whoever took over the lease there kept it up – they would’ve been insane not to after all of the work Tony put into it.

A weird yearning sat in the pit of his stomach. As a good looking soon to be 30-year-old, it should’ve been insane to be this wrapped up in the past and all the delectable memories it held. He wasn’t social awkward and had a good head on his shoulders – there’d been many men that tried to steal his attention, even. Yet, Peter invited the presence of those memories, instead. For every not so good thing that happened, there were 20 great adventures that took its place. Despite years of distance, Peter missed Tony – missed him and the person he let himself become under the radiant affection and liveliness that Tony brought to his life.

Peter tried not to think about the prospect of turning back time, but as he sat in front of Tony’s old place, he wished for just a few minutes of those old times – some of the best days of his life. What he wouldn’t give to be a kid again, sitting in the shining sun with the most radiant man he’d ever met, even now – even years later, Tony held that title so tightly, there wasn’t room for anyone else.

Shaking his head, Peter gave the blue door a longing look – if he didn’t force himself to leave in that moment, the strength would never come. His fingers gripped the wheel tightly, the tires grinding against the curb ever so slightly. He laughed at himself, the consistency of his driving habits making his chest feel warm. Even after all those years, he still misjudged the width of the curb. The thought gripped his heart tightly – there were so many things that hadn’t changed and so many things he wished didn’t all that time ago.

In his melancholy, Peter didn’t notice the front curtain twitch, or see the door open – a slightly older Tony Stark stepping out of it with confusion written all over his face.

The ride home consisted of a few tears and the stereo of his car scratching ever so slightly with the loud volume of the song he’d been listening to non-stop all day long. Peter stopped to grab a sub from his favorite pagoda in hopes of making himself feel better, then finished the trek back to his lonely apartment – the folding of his laundry the only thing for him to look forward to when he got there.

He got one of his feet out of the car before the vibration of his phone in the cupholder stopped him. Not recognizing the number off the bat, Peter let it ring, the buzz of it against his thigh as he slipped it into his pocket. Not thinking much about it, Peter got up into his apartment, dropping his sub and keys on the counter without much thought. Then, his phone vibrated again, this time, the three-pulse rhythm told him that whoever just called left him a voicemail.

Intrigued, Peter fished the phone from his pocket, his eyes bulging when he saw Siri’s suggestion of who it was (MAYBE: Tony Stark). Taking in a deep breath, Peter set the phone down, then immediately picked it back up – his brain was running haywire and standard operating procedures were not functioning at their usual capacity.

It was almost like the universe heard his call, or understood the pain he’d been in. Why, after 6 years of no talking, texting, or communication at all, did Tony reach out now? And if he listened to the message, what would come of it? Did he really have the strength to do the right thing here? Or the wrong thing for that matter?

Almost like he was working on autopilot, Peter let his thumb navigate the phone until he was a second away from listening to Tony’s voice for the first time in what felt like forever. Anticipation raced through him, his skin tingling with nerves and excitement that he couldn’t quite tamper down. Tony Stark, after so much time. Grinning, Peter let the rest of his resolve crumble, his finger pressing the play button before he could think too hard about the whole thing.

Hey Pete,

At least, I hope this is still Peter Parker’s number. I remember you saying you hadn’t changed your number since you were a teenager and am banking on that fact. I could’ve sworn I saw your old Honda out in front of the old apartment today. I’m back in New York, for good this time, and wanted to see you. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough to stop you, but I thought I’d reach out. I’ve missed you.

Anyway – call me back. This is my new number, so you know where to reach me.

Peter spent the next five minutes listening to the message over and over again – the cadence of his voice hadn’t changed a single bit and the slightest hint of affection that sat there was unmistakable. Tony made it seem like no time at all had passed, like it was normal to call an ex up out of the blue, like it wouldn’t change Peter’s world to hear that he missed him – that after 6 years, Peter was still on Tony’s mind.

Clutching the phone to his chest, Peter took a few long deep breaths before making a decision. His mind would never leave him alone if he didn’t take the steps laid out in front of him – if he didn’t hit the call button and see where a conversation with the love of his life could take him.

There was a slight pause before the phone rang, then a click of the call being answered on the other side of the phone. Peter waited with bated breath as Tony settled onto the other side of the line, his inhale before saying anything more than enough for Peter to spring forward into the abyss.

“Hey, Tony – “

August 2012

Walking into Stevie’s, Peter didn’t know what to expect. Being a small-town kid, the big city still seemed impenetrable, despite living there for the entirety of his college education. Though, thinking about it, he supposed that he stayed in a pretty narrow bubble during his time in school. Getting into the master’s program, Peter knew he not only needed to branch out a bit more, but also needed to make some spare change to help pay for the next two years of classes.

Which is how he found himself standing outside the small restaurant, his first shift set to start in 10 minutes. With his apron in hand, Peter took a deep breath and pulled open the door. The smell of cinnamon and something on the savory side hit his nose as he stepped inside, his chest already loosening. Comforting scents always brought down his defenses – the 20 candles that riddled his little apartment spoke to that very fact. He liked to be wrapped up in familiar things, smells included.

Taking a few more steps into the restaurant, Peter brightened up even further when he saw MJ approaching him. They met during freshman philosophy, the two of them making fun of the professor before even exchanging names. With that sort of chemistry, their struck-up friendship didn’t surprise anyone. Her decision to stay in the city and continue her education played a huge part in Peter’s plans – Nebraska wasn’t calling him home, or anything, but he didn’t want to be lonely in the city – he got his fill of that feeling during the first few months of adjustment when he first arrived.

MJ getting the waitress job couldn’t have happened at a better time, either. Though he was smart (smart enough to graduate with a double major), scholarships were few and far between, so only half of his education was getting paid for by the school. Unlike his undergraduate experience, Peter knew he needed to work, both to make money and gain experience. Stevie’s wasn’t the classroom that he belonged in, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Peter Parker – am I glad to see you,” MJ said in the way of greeting, her cheeks pulling up in a slight smile. She was a tough, sort of grungy girl, but her affection for Peter shaded her actions towards him, giving her a softer edge where Peter was concerned. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him towards what could only be the employee break room. “It’s kind of slow tonight, so you’ll have lots of time and space to learn everything you need to know.”

The slightest feeling of relief washed over him when they busted through the doors and only a couple of people were scattered around the room. On any part of the weekend, Stevie’s had a line out the door. There weren’t many breakfast for dinner joints in the city and the unique combination of sweet and savory of their menu brought people from all over the city to their little corner. Before applying, Peter battled with the anxiety of being around that many people – but the good money and ability to work with MJ overran the negative feelings he almost allowed himself to manifest.

After being introduced to the few people sitting around the break room, Peter clocked in and donned the traditional black apron that all of the servers were sporting. MJ took him around, showed him how the computer system worked, and let him shadow her during a couple of orders. When things started to pick up, she sent him off on his own – she had the utmost confidence in him and told him so many times throughout his brief training. He could handle thermodynamics like it was elementary math – serving people had to be a breeze.

Quickly, Peter realized that being a waiter took a lot more skills than he initially thought. Though the computer system was easy enough to navigate, remembering what went where and who ordered what took a few tables to get used to. He played musical plates a few times before getting the hang of labeling the people at the table and putting their order by said label. By the time Peter got within an hour of his shift being over, he finally felt like he could handle himself.

While in-between tables, MJ flagged him down – her hair was a mess and there were more than a few spills on her apron. “I’m swamped with this huge party that just sat down.” She looked over at the large table, her eyes focusing in on the unruly children climbing all over the chairs. “Could you take my other table? Their food should be up soon – it shouldn’t be too much work.” Without waiting for an answer, MJ turned back to the big party, her shoulders set in what Peter knew to be her determined stance.

Using the table planogram, Peter got the table number before heading to the kitchen to grab their food – their ticket number had just popped up on the screen outside of the window. Looking over the order one more time, Peter was surprised to see a tan hand reach out to tap his fingers that were just about to wrap around the edge of the first plate. “That’s a hot plate. You’ll want to cover your hand before you pick it up.”

Somewhat shocked at the timbre of the voice talking to him, Peter took a step back from the window, his hands flying up in surrender, like he’d actually touched fire, or something. Looking up, Peter forced himself to catch his breath. The older sous chef that stood in that spot for most of his shift was gone, only to be replaced with the most gorgeous human Peter could remember seeing. His lips were framed with a gorgeous, and well kept, goatee. Honey-golden eyes watched him with intrigue, and when their eyes met, Peter got to see the most glorious smile.

A soft blush overtook his face – Peter did his best to hide the rush of it and the smile that accompanied it. Ducking his head, Peter bit into his lip, his brain desperately trying to cling to whatever words he could remember in the heart racing moment. “Uh – thanks! I’m new, so I probably would’ve burnt off my skin if you didn’t step in.”

He ached to hold his hand out between them, to see if his skin was as warm as his eyes were. Yet, he understood how much he already made a fool of himself – Peter kept his hands down by his side with a sort of resolve that shouldn’t be necessary in a situation like this.

That rich voice sounded again, this time directed solely at Peter – the man’s attention on him explicitly. “I figured as much. I’m Tony – one of the sous chefs around here. You’ll learn pretty quickly what you can and can’t pick up. Just don’t drop shit and you’ll be okay.” His words were brief and somewhat cut off, but his eyes never left Peter’s – they seemed to burn into him with every second that passed.

“Good to know. Thanks again, Tony.”

Peter used the cloth napkin he tied to his apron earlier to grab the plate – the heat barely there through the fabric. He grabbed the other plate with his free hand and was about to turn away from the kitchen when Tony spoke again.

“What’s your name, new kid?” His eyebrows were raised when Peter turned to look at him, a smirk on his face.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

Beaming, Peter turned away, his cheeks burning from excitement and a rush of heat that his short conversation with Tony brought about. He sucked in a couple of long breaths before approaching his new table, his smile now back to its normal range.

The rest of the night flew by, Peter getting lost in the last couple of tables that came in before closing time. Though, none of them ordered any food, so he didn’t have an excuse to head back to the kitchen. Despite that, Peter found himself turning towards the window he knew Tony would be standing behind, their eyes meeting every now and again. He counted himself lucky in those moments – for a few seconds, those golden eyes were stuck on him, looking at him.

After getting closed out for the night, Peter pocketed his tips, shed his apron, and stood outside the employee entrance for a few minutes, just soaking it all in. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to be doing, but his time spent at Stevie’s would bring him one step closer to his ultimate goal, so it wouldn’t be too terrible. He made it out of the first day alive and even managed to impress both MJ and his boss. Sighing, Peter let his back rest against the wall, his tired eyes closing.

A heavy creek and the door opening brought him out of his silent reverie – he couldn’t recall how long he’d been standing there by the time he looked up. Much to his surprise, Mr. Brown Eyes himself stepped out, his long legs encased with a dark denim, his upper body still covered by the chef whites he’d been sporting earlier.

“Looks like you made it through the first night,” Tony said as nimble fingers worked at the buttons first at his collar, then down the length of his jacket. When the sides were pulled apart, Peter caught sight of a navy-blue V-neck shirt, the gap of it showing off just the right amount of dark chest hair to keep Peter’s eyes transfixed there. His breathing picked up, the same rush of heat from earlier trying to overtake him again.

“It wasn’t so bad. It seems like people are actually interested in the food we serve here, so they don’t really give much of a shit about me. As long as I don’t drop shit, I’m good.” Peter shot Tony a smile, the man’s own words sitting in the air between them. The tension in the air made his heart slam against his chest, Peter feeling slightly lightheaded in those seconds between speaking and Tony answering.

Instead of words, Peter was met with a solid laugh, the sound coming from Tony’s stomach and out of his mouth likely before he could stop it from happening. Peter watched a subtle blush bloom on Tony’s cheeks, his stubble not doing much in the way of hiding the red hue. If he wasn’t fucked before, he sure as hell was now.

“You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? I like that about you, Peter Parker.” Tony snuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground before looking up again, his eyes shining. “Want to grab a drink?”

November 3rd, 2020

Instead of the dreamy haze from the day before, Peter spent most of his day riddled with stomach-churning nerves. It seemed like a good idea, when Tony’s voice was in his ear and his presence could be felt, to meet up for coffee at their old haunt. After a day of thinking about Tony non-stop, Peter could do nothing but accept the invitation. It’d been years since he stepped foot in Stevie’s – if nothing else, the nostalgia of the trip would be worth it. Yet, Peter couldn’t stop himself from hoping – what he was hoping for, he wasn’t sure, but hope sat in the pit of his stomach, nonetheless. It made the time drag on, his lessons for once not up to his usual standards.

It must’ve been that type of day for everyone, because no one questioned or even batted an eye at his abnormal behavior. His students were a couple of weeks from Thanksgiving vacation and the will to pay attention was lacking in pretty much everyone. Grateful for that fact, Peter snuck out a few minutes before the end of the day bell. His planning for the next day was completed and there wasn’t anything else to hold his attention – he hoped no one noticed his early departure.

Though, the second he walked out of school, he was instantly at a loss. They weren’t meeting until after Tony’s shift (which just so happened to be at his very own restaurant, Peter Googled it earlier that morning). That meant he had more than an hour to kill and not a lot to distract him from what felt like a momentous meeting. There were so many things left unsaid between the two of them, so many memories that were so prominent – it was hard to separate the good from the bad – the forgettable, and those he didn’t ever want to forget.

For his own sanity, Peter put what happened between them before Tony left at the back of his mind. In the years since that day, Peter realized how childish his decision was – between not showing up and not thinking things through, there wasn’t much room for any other conclusion. The conscious thought of that didn’t take away the heartache he felt, however – Peter figured they both would be feeling a lot of that throughout the conversation they were about to have.

Left with the decision between fretting and heading back to his place for a quick spruce up, Peter drove the few miles between the school and the apartment he called home. He spent a lot of time in front of the mirror earlier that morning but knew a glance or two in his closet wouldn’t hurt the situation. He stripped out of his button up shirt and ran a washcloth across the skin of his upper arms, down across his chest, and along the length of his neck – it’d been unseasonably hot in his classroom.

Satisfied with his cleanliness, Peter walked into his meager closet, most of the clothes hanging in it ones that he purchased many years ago – there were lots of things in his life that felt like they were on pause, his wardrobe included. Sifting through them, Peter found himself smiling when he flipped by the hunter green Henley he squared away more than six years ago. The vivid way the color made Tony’s eyes stand out made his heart race – Peter still thought about those bourbon beauties on a pretty frequent basis.

Trying not to think too much of it, Peter pulled the shirt down from its hanger. Though some time past, Peter could swear the smell of Tony’s cologne still clung to the fabric. No matter how many times he ran it through the wash, the ghost of his former lover stuck around – the shirt like a tangible personification of Peter’s feelings over the years. Slipping it on felt like coming home in a way none of the other items in his closet could ever make him feel. That singular thought spoke volumes – though, Peter went out of his way to ignore the obvious. It was easier like that.

Finally satisfied with both his outfit and the time in which he had left to get to Stevie’s, Peter took a couple of deep breaths and one more quick glance in the mirror before heading back out to his car. The nerves from earlier seemed to be leveling out now that he took the time to pump himself up (being wrapped up in Tony’s shirt didn’t hurt, either). He made it through six years by himself, without the company of Tony – he could make it six more and then six more after that if things didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to after this little meeting.

With that in mind, Peter tried to decide what he actually wanted from his time with Tony – after all of these years, it seemed silly to walk into anything without at least thinking it through. More than anything, he wanted to step back into Tony’s arms like no time at all past; if they could pretend that the six years didn’t exist between then and now, he’d be perfectly alright with that. No matter how good of an idea Peter thought his decision was all that time ago, he knew that Tony, after being without him, brought something to his life that no one else could – he desperately tried to find it, but couldn’t, no matter how much effort he put in. It seemed a little outlandish, to think that their first interaction would be that magical, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping – Peter always tried to be optimistic when the situation called for it (and this one totally did).

Despite not having visited his old stomping grounds in years, Peter’s mind remembered the way like he still travelled there on a daily basis – like the route was engrained in his brain so deeply, he couldn’t ever forget. Which made sense, after a bit of thought – some of the best memories of his youth were based around his time at Stevie’s and the people he met there. If he let himself think about it too hard, a wave of sadness would hit him; that was the opposite effect he wanted from this interaction – he wanted this blast from the past to be a happy one.

The buffer of time he originally had dwindled down to nothing as he found a meter to park in front of and fed it a few quarters. His steps were impatient as he made his way back towards the white bricked building, the flashing sign still bright and alluring.

Each second he crept a little closer to the door, his hard beat harder and harder. With just a couple more strides left until he reached the entrance, Peter looked up and his breath caught – through the window he saw Tony Stark sitting in “their” booth, his hair a little longer and his goatee just a little bit more refined, big framed glasses sitting on his nose the only noticeably new addition.

It felt like getting knocked off his feet, seeing him again. Peter stopped, just for a second – he took a long gulp of oxygen before even thinking about opening the door. Like most memories, they all came flashing back – the place, the man, even the recognizable step he almost tripped on time and time again – each one a trigger for every precious second spent in this very place.

Before he could get swept away, Peter tightened his resolve and gripped the door handle.

September 2013 – October 2014

Though Peter was determined to make the most of the situation when he first started at Stevie’s, he quickly came to realize that everything he needed in that moment existed within the orbit of that café. The year he worked there so far, Peter made more friends, learned more about people, and met (who he hoped to be) the love of his life. Each piece of the tiny little puzzle of the Stevie’s community fit so well within his life that Peter couldn’t remember ever being happier than he was.

On top of the amazing job and the people surrounding it, Peter was quickly making his way through his master’s degree – he wanted to teach people the same way his professors were relaying information to him and was only a couple steps from doing exactly that. All of the fretting and worry from the start of his program dissipated after a booming fall semester that led straight into a scholarship to cover the remaining tuition problems. Now, he felt no pressure when he walked into Stevie’s – the job wasn’t a burden, but something he thoroughly enjoyed every time he walked through the door.

Of course, one of the main reasons his time within the walls of the all-day breakfast spot remained some of his favorites was the lovely man that so quickly swept him off his feet. After that first night where they talked about anything and everything tucked away in the corner of some no-name pub, he and Tony were pretty inseparable. For a while, he thought that he might exist in the friend-zone – and some of the pieces of him would’ve been okay with that. Yet, when his back hit the wall of the alleyway where everything started and Tony’s lips descended upon his own, Peter didn’t stop himself from feeling elated and relieved; there were so many wants and needs that included Tony not being “just” his friend.

Like most relationships do, the two of them settled into a comfortable sort of adventure that was both consistent and completely random at any given time. They worked the same shift, so it was easy for them to pick one of their apartments after work and head that way together. No matter where they were, Peter ended most of his days tangled up with the sheet stealer that Tony was. They didn’t need any awkward conversations to know that whatever time they could spend together, they were going to. In the most natural way, things fell into place and made Peter deliriously happy.

It seemed like nothing could touch them, either. Being so young and in love, Peter thought he finally found a place where he belonged. After so much time being the weird nerdy kid, or the new boy, Peter got to claim a spot in a pack – one that was handpicked and made so much sense – the group of them were almost too similar and too close to one another. Or so the people on the outside said, anyway.

When the changes did start to happen, Peter tried not to let them blindside him. It started out simply – Fred, their menacing head chef, quit after a particularly hard shift; two of the newer waiters were fired on the spot after dropping countless orders. He stormed out in a huff; his only words being thrown Tony’s way as he handed over the coveted black chef jacket Peter knew his boyfriend wanted more than pretty much anything else in the world. The adjustment seemed pretty flawless – Tony picked up a couple more hours here and there, but still managed to make the trek home with Peter every time they shared a shift.

Then, things started to pick up in the restaurant because of the exciting changes Tony made to the menu. Stevie’s went from being a place only packed on the weekends, to being packed at every major service time. They were so popular in their little corner of NYC that local news crews came around to do spots on the newest menu additions and the chef behind them. Those few extra hours Tony picked up turned into many more than a few. Being the loving and proud boyfriend that he was, Peter did his best to be supportive and not balk at their time together that seemed to dwindle more and more as the days past.

Luckily, Peter found some reprieve from the nagging worry of his personal life during the last semester of his graduate program – his student teaching sent him into the wilderness of Midtown High, a school known for its advanced programs and science specification. At the beginning, it felt like a good coping mechanism – if he wasn’t at home waiting around, he didn’t have to feel the small slices of resentment starting to creep into the tiniest cracks in his heart. As things progressed, Peter caught the bug and decided that the childish things he wanted just months before were things of the past.

Despite this, Tony seemed to be just as committed to the them they created throughout their time together. In a lot of ways, both of their careers booming at the same time felt like a good thing. Both got to work where their hearts drew them, but at the end of the day, they came home to each other. From his actions, Peter knew that was enough for Tony. They weren’t staying up all night drinking and talking about whatever struck their fancy – but they were together, soaking up the joys of life with the one person that seemed to understand the drive and need for those successes and happiness.

Which is why, a couple of weeks after celebrating their two-year anniversary, Tony looked at him with the biggest smile on his face. In their time together, Peter learned the many facial expressions of his gorgeous other half. For someone so reserved with their emotions, Tony said a lot with the slightest twitch of the muscles in his face. It took Peter a second to steady himself – even after two years of being together, the genuine nature of the look still tried to knock him on his ass. Young love was sweet and soothing, but there was something to be said for the transition into something more concrete, more stable.

“That’s your excited smile. What’s up, Tones?” Peter questioned; his eyes wide with the residual excitement that seemed to be floating around the room. His chest felt a little tight with it, apprehension and secondhand adrenaline tapping against all of his major organs like shoes on hardwood.

“I got a call from Chef Barton – the world-renowned culinary instructor in Paris. He had a spot open up in his breakfast kitchen and wants me to take it.” Tony stopped then, taking an excited breath before continuing. “I want me to take it, too. And most importantly – I want you to come with me.”

His arms wrapped around Peter’s shoulders then, the grip tight, Tony’s affection only increasing with the amount of excitement running through his veins. Being tucked into Tony’s chest gave Peter the opportunity to say nothing, which is exactly what he did. Instead, he forced his arms to wrap around Tony’s hips in hopes of returning the hug with at least half of the fervor Tony used to hold him. Peter tried to melt into the embrace – but his mind was racing. Paris? Now – when he finally felt like he was making the right steps towards actually being an adult? It seemed childish to just pick everything up and run across the country, no matter how much he loved Tony and the direction they were heading.

Keeping all of those thoughts to himself, Peter kept living his life with Tony – only ever getting quiet when they started to talk about their future plans – ones that, if Tony had his way, included the two of them skipping across the country, hand-in-hand, towards the unknown. Not wanting to deal with it head on, Peter avoided the topic, and everything that went with it, like the plague. He knew Tony could feel the hesitancy, but he never brought it up, so Peter didn’t either. Why disturb the peace when he could just ignore everything that would totally obliterate it?

Peter kept that attitude until the day before they were set to leave. Still on the fence about his decision, he half-heartedly packed a bag. In the weeks leading up to their departure, Tony sent most of his own stuff ahead to the small apartment waiting for them to arrive. In his infernal need to give Peter his space and independence, Tony figured Peter would get what he needed there some way or another. It didn’t even cross his mind, Peter figured, the thought that he wouldn’t be coming with him. The lack of communication and unwillingness to step on the fine sheen of ice between them hindering any sort of progress, or reassurance that they both needed.

Like most of his life, Peter listened to his brain instead of his heart – instead of meeting Tony at the airport, he holed himself away in MJ’s apartment, despite her own qualms against it, which she voiced loudly for most of the night as his phone rang with calls, and then chimed with text after text.

It was several hours after Peter knew Tony would be in the air that he finally let himself look at all the text messages sent his way. They ranged from distraught to upset to infuriated, and then resolved. There were so many of them to sort through, but the last one was the one to really catch his eye.

Tony Stark [8/13/2014 9:53PM]: It’s okay, Pete. I get it. Just let me know that you’re alright.

According to the timestamp, Tony sent that last one a couple minutes after their flight was supposed to take off. While in the air, putting distance between them after being ruthlessly stood up, Tony was still genuinely worried about his well-being. Piles of regret deposited themselves on the expanse of his chest – the repercussions of his decision hitting him with a fervor Peter didn’t know existed. He claimed to love Tony with all of his heart but let something like fear and a lack of communication strip that all away from him. Whatever happened, he needed to own it and deal with the fall out.

Peter Parker [8/14/2014 2:00AM]: I’m sorry – I’m okay, but I just couldn’t.

Surprisingly, Peter wasn’t bombarded with calls or texts the next day, or even the next. He figured that Tony would be calling like crazy the second he touched down in Paris – yet, Peter didn’t hear a thing. After looking at his quiet phone with distaste for two full weeks, Peter pulled up Tony’s contact information with the intention of calling him, instead. His thumb hovered over the call button more than a few times over the following few days, but no matter how much he wanted to, Peter couldn’t bring himself to do it. Like ripping a band aid, maybe the breaking would be quickest with one tough yank. From the lack of calls his way, Tony must’ve figured the same thing.

Tinged with unexplainable pain, Peter made his way through the next few days, and then the next few weeks – before he knew it, it was October. He finished up his degree during the summer and once he managed to pick himself up off the floor, applied to several of the local high schools. In a strike of luck, Midtown was so stoked about his performance during his internship, they offered him a job outright – without an interview or anything of the sort. In the matter of what felt like a second, Peter went from a loved individual with a spice for life to a high school teacher, who’s only joys came in the form of a new flavored coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

It worked. It gave him stability and adulthood. Happiness would come back – he hoped, anyway.

November 3rd, 2020

It was dizzying, having Tony’s attention focused on him again. The glasses were a welcome addition to Tony’s stupidly attractive face. They magnified the color of his eyes and gave off an air of maturity – though, the AC/DC shirt that clung to his chest counteracted that a little bit. Shrugging that thought off, Peter forced himself to forget about that debilitating mindset. It already cost him Tony once – the least he could do for himself was stop it from happening a second time.

When he first walked in, Peter was surprised to see that not a lot changed over the years – there were a few new art pieces on the wall, but the bare bones were the same. Even the menus Peter spent countless hours passing out and cleaning looked exactly the same. It felt like both a blessing and a curse, being in a place that seemed so familiar and yet entirely too foreign all at the same time. As he got further into the restaurant, Peter waited for the second that Tony caught sight of him – and was not disappointed a single bit. A reserved smile slipped across the other man’s face, the slightest bit of wrinkle by his eyes the only physical mark of their time spent apart.

Peter didn’t expect the hug that was placed upon him, but before he could even think about it, Tony’s arms were around him – his grip the same tightness he held Peter’s body with during their time together. It made his heart ache; how much he missed such a simple touch – and how easily he let go of it. Ignoring how pathetic he should’ve felt, Peter returned the embrace, his own arms tightening around Tony’s as if this were his only opportunity.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Peter heard Tony say, the whiskered lips mere millimeters from the shell of his ear as he did. “It’s good to see you, Pete.”

Unable to do anything else, Peter tucked his face a little further into Tony’s neck, his nostrils expanding with the long breath he pulled into his chest. Though the underlying smell of Dove for Men wasn’t there anymore, Peter could recognize that cologne anywhere. The olfactory association of the scent brought him to so many places all at once, each one reminding him of all the good memories and wasted time in between then and now.

“I missed you, too. I can’t believe you’re here. That you wanted to see me. Hell, that you look so damn good,” Peter said in reply as he finally tore himself away. His hands shifted to take hold of Tony’s biceps, his grip still firm, still clinging in a way that spoke of hope – hope that, when all was said and done, Tony wouldn’t walk away.

After getting his shit together, Peter took the seat next to Tony at the table – his chair a little closer than normal proximity usually called for. If Tony minded, he didn’t mention it; the man was so cool, he sipped at his warm coffee without a second of hesitation, despite the billowing steam rushing from the top.

Using the ruse of settling in, Peter took a minute to really take Tony in. His hands were still insanely sexy, fingers long and tan like the rest of him – his skin riddled with a few more nicks and cuts than before, but that was to be expected. His t-shirt fit him tightly, the sleeves highlighting the benefits of manual labor that running a kitchen called for. His coveted chef whites were hanging over the back of his chair, the crisp Stark’s on the right lapel bringing a smile to his face.

“You look amazing, Tony. Like time didn’t touch you at all.”

Tony turned towards him then, his fingers abandoning their hold on the coffee cup in front of him. “Nice of you to say. It feels like it has. Sometimes, it feels like 20 years past, instead of just 6.”

Reaching out, Peter let the tips of his fingers rest against the back of Tony’s hand, his pinky finger finding the same scar he obsessively touched whenever they held hands all that time ago. The caress pulled a shiver from them both, hazel met brown for a long second before Tony blinked and looked away.

“I thought it was just me that felt like that.”

Their conversations hit a pause after that, both of them soaking in the situation while the waitress came to take Peter’s order – his customary order of French toast and espresso rolling off his tongue before he even needed to think about it.

“It’s nice to know some things don’t ever change.” Tony looked at him, a hesitant smile on his face. “Do you still slather it in peanut butter?”

“Is it even French toast without it?”

The comment made Tony light up, his eyes twinkling with amusement, a laugh leaving his lips. “No, I guess it’s not.”

Laughter sat between them for a few minutes – their waitress came with food and coffee for Peter, her eyes lingering on them longer than necessary until her glance moved across the wall to where the old crew photos were hanging. “I knew I recognized you two. Stevie still talks about your crew like it hasn’t been years since you were last working here.” She gave them both a smile, left behind utensils, and turned away – a new sort of pep in her step.

“Do you even think about it?” Peter asked, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of the photos, like he didn’t just ask the most complex question to ever exist. “Those times, I mean.”

Tony took another long pull of his coffee before answering, the seconds between his lips wrapping around the cup and his eyes meeting Peter’s feeling like days. He caught himself holding his breath, his subconscious tensing up for whatever blow that might come his way.

“Every day.” Tony finally answered, his tone of voice serious, the look he gave Peter whimsical. “I can’t remember a time in the last 6 years when I wasn’t thinking about this place, this city – you.”

Like magnets, their hands were drawn together – Tony let the back of his rest against the table, Peter slipping his own against it so they were palm to palm, fingers interlaced.

“Tell me how you lived without it. Did somebody change your world?”

Tony looked at him then, his eyes wide with questions, with the need to have answers to them without having to voice them, or even put them into the universe to be heard. His fingers tightened around Peter’s; their palms now pressed fully together. The contact was almost too much for the moment, their closeness on the border of being suffocating when that sort of demand sat on the table.

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter squared his shoulders, his own fingers gripping Tony’s in a small attempt at reassurance. “It was never anything like that. Someone or something else. When you told me about Paris, all I could hear was my aunt’s voice telling me that I wasn’t going to be a kid forever. That one day I’d need to grow up and, in that moment, it was too loud – too loud to ignore or fight against. I didn’t see past anything after that.”

“But didn’t that make you sad? Thinking that we’ll never be kids again? Letting something like that make all of your decisions?” Tony tilted his head to the side, eyes not leaving Peter’s for a second.

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed, the words shooting from his mouth. “I came to realize, not long after I let you go, that growing up didn’t change who I was, or what I wanted. Being with you, the feeling of child-like wonder would never go away. We were moving towards what I wanted without me even realizing it. That’s the thing that made me sad the most – knowing how silly I’d been, thinking I’d want anything other than that feeling of never coming down.”

By the time he finished talking, there were tears in his eyes – the big drops there threatening to fall with every blink. He felt warm everywhere, like if he let go of anything – Tony’s hand, the way he felt, the pent-up guilt residing within him – he just might explode.

Knowing him as well as he did, even after years of distance between them, Tony pushed his chair away from the table and closed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter in a bone crushing hug. The time between their past and their present narrowing down to nothing with their embrace.

“It’s okay, Pete. I got it then and I get it now. I thought about you every day, not because I was mad or hurt, but because I knew – even with so much time and space between us – that you were worth every moment, every thought, every second of pining I couldn’t stop myself from doing. Paris was great – but it wasn’t where I needed to be. No matter how hard I tried to make it home.”

Each word drove him a little closer to the edge and when Tony’s warmth finally seeped deep into his core, Peter was unable to hold himself together. Tears streamed down his face, each one trekking to his chin, only to fall down the length of his neck to stain the collar of his shirt. He clung to Tony with all that he was worth – his perception of the restaurant around him narrowing down to nothing but their booth, their connection, their skin brushing in the most intimate of ways.

When there weren’t any more tears left to cry, Peter shifted slightly, his nose brushing against Tony’s cheek with the movement. Instead of shying away like he had every right to do, Tony leaned into the caress – his cheek warm to the touch. “It’s okay, Pete. It’s okay. I missed you, too.”

There wasn’t much productivity after that. Peter pulled away completely, only to remember that he was in a public place and just had a very real, very vulnerable melt down in front of a lot of random people. His cheeks colored for a moment, but Tony was there to sooth him, his work roughened hand grasping Peter’s without hesitation. They shared a tentative smile – the light in Tony’s eyes something Peter wasn’t sure he remembered being so goddamn vivid.

They finished up pretty quickly, Peter’s embarrassment still sitting in the forefront of his mind, despite the quiet support from Tony’s presence. He laid a couple of twenties on the table, waving Tony away when he tried to add his own money.

“I cried on your shoulder – let me buy you some breakfast.”

With a laugh, Tony nodded and walked towards the door, his eyes tracking Peter’s movement as he got himself together once more – it was almost like Tony was afraid he’d disappear if he looked away, even for a second.

Out on the sidewalk, Peter started walking towards his car when Tony’s arm shot out, his fingers gripping firm biceps. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you. I can’t go another six years.” As he spoke, Tony loosened his fingers, letting his hand rest on Peter’s hip, instead. “Please tell me I can see you again.”

Despite his hopes and the smallest bit of expectation Peter couldn’t help himself from feeling, he wasn’t expecting anything like this – an invitation for something further. Turning until he could wrap his arms around Tony’s shoulders, Peter leaned in until their foreheads were resting against each other’s, breaths shared between them. He felt Tony’s nose brush against his before their lips met in the smallest hint of a kiss -

“Any time you want, Tony. I’m not going anywhere. Never, ever, ever again.”

#starker #bobbie writes #do you even think about it #kids again #peter parker/tony stark #sometimes i write shit #nobetterlove

28 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Part 2

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Please read Part 1 first.

“I’m not trying that on, you seen the price tag?” Bucky glared at Katie who narrowed he eyes as she held up the Midnight Blue Soho Double Breasted wool suit.

“You are so trying it on Barnes, you’ll look amazing in it.” She insisted. “Trust me, Sam will love it”

“Sam can wear it if he loves it.” Bucky shook his head. “Doll face, it’s almost five hundred bucks!”

“It’s a Paul Smith” she shrugged “You want quality, you gotta pay. Trust me, a good suit is an investment Bucky.”

Bucky considered this for a moment before he cocked his head and a teasing grin spread across his face “Yeah, I suppose. And I can always use it for the next wedding.”

“You’re not getting married in that.” Katie shook her head. “You need a tux.”

“I’m not getting married, you are.” He looked at her and she rolled her eyes, well used to his constant teasing about he and Steve’s future by now.

“Just try on the goddamned suit.”

“Cranky much?” he mumbled.

“May I remind you that I am hungover and you dragged me out here to help you but you keep bitching about everything I suggest. I should be dying on my sofa indulging in indecent amounts of sugar.” Kate narrowed he eyes at him.

“Technically it’s not your sofa. You might have moved in, but…”

“Err, it belongs to Steve and he belongs to me, ergo it’s mine.”

“You know I could argue against that but if I ask him he will probably say of course I’m hers with that stupid goofy smile on his dumb face.”

Katie smirked “Exactly.” She thrust the suit at him “Go. Try. NOW!”

Bucky took the suit “Vicious.”

Leaving Katie glaring at his back he headed into the changing room and quickly stripped before pulling on the suit. And, in all fairness, he had to hand it to Katie, it was smart, probably the nicest one he has ever worn to be fair. It felt good, decent quality and was tailored exceptionally well. Dare he admit it, he looked pretty damned good. He opened the cubicle door and walked out of the changing room to get Stark’s opinion, finding her stood not far away looking at something on her phone, frowning.

“You ok?” he asked, and she nodded, not raising her head, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“Yeah was just looking at some photos that Tony put of the bachelor party on facebook…” she took a breath and looked at Bucky “How did Steve really get that black eye? I can tell he is lying to me.”

Ah, crap… should have seen that one coming Barnes.

He let out a sigh “Ask him”

“I did, and now I’m asking you.”

He groaned, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get out of this. Fuck you, Steve, fuck you.

“Fine, I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out.” He looked at Katie who nodded.

“Promise”

“Why don’t I believe you? And if you say anything to Steve I’ll bug your bedroom and post the recordings on my Instastories”

“I said I wouldn’t flip out at you.” She looked at him “That’s all I’m promising, but seeing as we’re making threats, James, if you don’t tell me I’ll also post a video. The one I got of you singing into a wooden spoon the other morning to The Sound Of Music”

Bucky felt his mouth drop open in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me bitch.” She shook her head “It will go under the caption of Bucky Von Crapp, seeing as you sounded like a strangled cat.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, as he began to recall the events of the previous night.

“Be your bachelor party next.” Bucky grinned at Steve as they stood at the bar in the compound.

Steve rolled his eyes “Just don’t.”

“Come on punk, you know it ain’t that far-fetched.” Bucky grinned and turned to order their drinks. Just as he was paying he heard Steve muttering to the side of him.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

Frowning he turned to look at Steve, whose jaw was twitching. His nostrils flared as he’s glared at something, or someone. Bucky followed his eyeline and saw a tall, slim, dark haired man dressed in a white button down and black slacks, stood with a group of other guys.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” he turned back to Steve, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I wish I didn’t know who it is. It’s Ward.” Steve replied simply.

Bucky’s frown deepened as he looked back at the man, then turned once more to Steve “As in Stark’s douchebag ex Ward?”

“In the flesh.”

Bucky took the beer from the bartender with a thanks and looked Ward over again “He looks like a dick.”

Besides him Steve picked up his beer, “If it looks like a dick…” at that point Ward let out a huge laugh, “And sounds like a dick…”

Bucky snorted and watched as a slim, bottle blonde woman in a tight skirt and very revealing top approached Ward. Ward smiled and looped an arm round her, giving her a kiss.

“Wait…is that who he did the dirty on Stark with?” Bucky looked at Steve.

The Captain nodded.

“Talk about a down grade.” Bucky shook his head “She ain’t a patch on your girl Stevie.”

“I know, thanks pal.” Steve gave a small smile then sighed “If Tony sees him….” He glanced around for the man in question to see him stood with a few other members of the Batchelor Party, looking the other way.

“Why is he even in here? I thought Pepper vetoed him after the incident on the karaoke night?” Bucky asked.

“She did. But Happy isn’t working is he? He’s over there drinking with Tony, and Pepper aint here either so… “ Steve took a breath and frowned “I don’t get it, why would he want to come here anyway? And how would he know he’d get in…unless…he found out about the party somehow…”

“Probably just a coincidence.” Bucky offered.

“I don’t believe in coincidences Buck.” Steve looked at him. Bucky held his gaze for a moment before he turned back in Ward’s direction and took a deep breath as he saw the man in question’s eyes flick towards them. A sly grin spread across Ward’s face and he said something to the woman who nodded as he began to head towards them.

“Well, looks like we’re about to find out.” Bucky muttered. Steve turned to him, followed his gaze and the rolled his eyes, turning back to the bar.

Ward stopped at the other side of the bar, placing his order before he remarked. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t even look at him when he replied “What are you doing here Ward?”

“Same as you, having a good time with some friends.” He gestured back to the group he had been with “ I see it’s Tony’s bachelor party. Pepper, I presume?”

Steve continued to ignore him.

“Give him my regards.”

At that, Steve turned his head in Ward’s direction just long enough to shoot him a filthy look before he picked up his drink.

“Come on Rogers, you still bitter at me?”

Steve swallowed a mouthful of his beer “Bitter isn’t exactly the word I would use” his voice was flat, unemotional, and Bucky knew that was far more dangerous than when he displayed out and out anger.

Time to step in.

“Look, jack ass…” Bucky pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Ward. “Why don’t you go and talk to Tony yourself. Sure he’d be thrilled to see you after what you did to his sister.”

Ward looked down at Bucky, there was a few inches height difference but it didn’t bother the Sergeant in the slightest. He knew if it came to it he could handle his own.

“And you are?” Ward raised his eyebrows.

“Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes.”

“That’s quite a mouthful Sergeant.” Ward mused. “And, speaking of mouthfuls. How’s Katie doing Rogers?”

Steve gripped his beer bottle tighter, an action Bucky saw in the corner of his eye. “Don’t you even mention her name asshole.”

“Are you ever gonna man up and ask her out?” Ward shook his head and at that Steve turned to face him.

“I’m warning you. Stop talking about her.”

At his words a smirk spread across Ward’s face. “Oh my god, you finally did…you two are…you’re together.”

Steve simply stared at him as Bucky grinned, unable to stop himself from speaking the childish insult that had cropped into his head.

“Well I know which one of you got the short straw, I mean you didn’t exactly trade Stark in for a better model did you? Certainly not from the looks of your poor man’s Dolly Parton over there anyway.”

To his delight the smug grin on Ward’s face slipped and a flash of anger was noticeable in his eyes.

Steve lay his a hand on Bucky’s shoulder “Leave it pal, he’s not worth it.” But it was too late, Ward has bitten back, rising to Bucky’s jibe.

“Don’t you dare talk about my fiancé that way.”

And at that Steve snorted “Fiancé? Seriously?”

Ward glared at him “You got something to say Rogers?”

“Nothing at all.” Steve chuckled. “I wish her luck, she’s gonna need it.” With that he picked up his bottle “Come on Buck.”

Steve turned to go and Bucky looked Ward up and down one more time, smirking, before he to made to follow Steve.

Crisis averted.

“Hey, Rogers? She’s a good fuck isn’t she?”

Crisis re-emerging.

Steve stopped, his shoulders tense and he took a deep breath, but didn’t turn round.

“Does she still do that thing with her nose? You know, just as she’s about to come? That little twich?” Ward continued, letting out a little groan “Man even thinking about that now does things to me…I kinda miss it.”

At that Steve spun around, blazing with anger ready to go for Ward but he was too late. Bucky had already shoved the asshole hard in the chest.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.” He growled as Ward stumbled back a few steps. Bucky clocked that some of his friends were now walking towards them, and was distracted slightly when Ward shoved him back. Bucky then spotted the swing that was coming his way and ducked. Unfortunately Steve, who was stood behind him, took the punch straight to the left side of his face. The Captain staggered a few steps backwards before he righted himself and then drew his right fist back and smacked it straight into Ward’s nose. Ward dropped to the floor, blood billowing down his shirt as Steve shook his fist out, flexing his fingers.

Bucky blinked as Ward lay on the floor, the force of Steve’s punch knocking him out cold and he turned to his friend, raising an eyebrow a little “I had him on the ropes.”

“I know you did.” Steve looked at his friend before he sighed “Suppose we better call 911 so they can get him on a gurney…”

Katie blinked as Bucky finished his tale. “So it was Ward?”

Bucky nodded “You understand why he didn’t want to tell you now, yeah?”

“I guess so” she bit her lip.

“I gotta ask, what the fuck did you ever see in him?” Bucky shook his head “Tony’s right, the guy is a shitweasel.”

She snorted “Trust me, I have no idea.”

Silence fell between the two of them and Bucky took a deep breath “You’re not mad are you?”

“Mad? No, I just think you’re a pussy for dodging the punch and letting Stevie take it Barnes.” She teased, smiling at him.

He shrugged “First time for everything.”

“Suppose I’ll have to thank you both for defending my honour.” She smiled, before her smile turned into a dirty smirk “But your thanks will be a little less physical than Steve’s.”

Bucky groaned “Gross.” He then looked at her, narrowing his eyes “You promised not to tell him I told you.”

“No I promised not to go mad.” She stated.

Bucky looked at her, contemplating her words before he realised that was in fact what she had said. He let out a growl of frustration and shook his head “Whatever.”

At that point they both heard a low whistle and turned to see Sam striding through the men’s boutique towards them.

“Well look at you sergeant Barnes, you’re gonna kill all the ladies” Sam grinned, raising his hand and extending his finger and thumb in a gun motion “Pew pew!”

Katie turned to Bucky, smiling “Told you he was gonna love it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before he smirked and turned to Sam “Not the ladies I’m after.” And with that he gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Aww you two are so cute.” Katie clapped her hands together.

“Piss off Stark” Bucky shot back.

“Now who’s cranky?” she laughed “I tell you you’re cute and you get all pissy!”

Bucky shook his head “I’m gonna get out of this suit.”

“Need any help.” Sam quipped and Katie arched an eyebrow.

“Guess I’ll be right there at the opposite side of the store, pretending I don’t know you two.”

“Now you know how I feel around you and Stevie.” Bucky looked at her.

Katie laughed “You know, the 4 of us should go out again soon.”

“Yeah, but without the element of surprise this time.” Sam shot her and Bucky an accusatory look

“Well it’s all out in the open now. But I kinda miss the sneaking around…it was a little exciting.” Katie shrugged.

“Seriously?” Sam looked at her and she snorted.

“No, it was hell.” And then she grinned “Although the secret sex was good.”

“Tell me more girl.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky shook his head.

“Trust me you don’t want to know”

“Oh, trust me I do.”

“And on that note, now I’m really gonna go get changed.” Bucky nodded towards the changing rooms “Then we can drop you home so you can die on the sofa.”

“Actually I need you to drop me off at Momma Rogers’” she said.

“Oooh you having lunch at Sarah’s?” Bucky smiled, knowing full well that he’d end up with an invite when he dropped her off.

“Yup, and I can’t wait.” She said, “I need food. My stomach feels like its eating itself.”

***** Steve walked into his Ma’s, stamping his feet on the mat, ridding his boots of the light dusting of snow he’d picked up since getting out of the car.

“Ma?” he gave a shout as he unwrapped the scarf from round his neck and began to undo his thick, blue quilted Canada Goose jacket. She emerged out of the kitchen into the hall and beamed at him, but her smile slipped and she nodded to his face.

“I thought the days of you coming home with a black eye were well behind you.” She stared at him “What the hell did you do?”

“Things got a bit messy at Tony’s stag party” he shrugged as his mom gently reached up to cup his cheek, tilting his face round so she can see it better. “Don’t fuss ma.”

“Shut up Steven.” Sarah’s voice was as stern as her face “I’m your mother and I’ll fuss if I want to.”

Steve rolled his eyes as her hand dropped back to her side. “Has Star seen this?”

“We live together. Of course she has.”

“Hmm, bet she didn’t like it either.” Sarah shot back “Good job you’re a fast healer. That would look a right mess in the wedding photos next week.”

“He came off worse, trust me.” Steve shrugged off her comment.

“You’re a Captain in the NYPD Steven, fancy brawling in a bar like some school kid.” His mother shook her head.

“I know ma, but…well it had to be done, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He urged, hoping she would take the hint and drop it but of course she didn’t.

“What do you mean it had to be done?” she pressed and Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to fob her off so decided to tell her the truth.

“Ward showed up last night at the compound. He was saying vile things about Katie. Really vile”

“So you punched him?” Sarah deadpanned.

“No, I mean yes, after he took a swing at Bucky…look, it’s really not a big deal.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes “I really don’t like that boy. Tony isn’t particularly fond of him either.”

“That’s because he’s a prick.” Steve shrugged.

“Language Steven. But yes, he is a prick. Now, let me get you some tea.”

Steve followed her into the kitchen and she filled the kettle and Steve started rummaging in the fridge for a snack.

“You know it’s funny his name is Grant.”

Steve emerged with a piece of pie that he had found and looked at her “What do you mean?” He took a bite of the pie which turned out to be cherry. It was good.

“I mean you both share the name and couldn’t be more different from one another.” His mother mused.

Steve swallowed his food. “Well, not all the ladies called Sarah are as pretty as you…or make as good a pie as you.”

Sarah smiled at her son, shaking her head. “Shut up Stevie.”

He chuckled “What you making for lunch?” he asked as he checked his watch to see it was almost 1. Kate had text him about 15 minutes ago to say they were leaving the store in Brooklyn City centre so she shouldn’t be far off.

“I take it that means you’re staying then?” Sarah turned to look at him and he grinned, as she shook her head, smiling to herself “Oh, and where is Star by the way?”

“She’s gone shopping with Bucky for a suit. Told her to meet me here if that’s ok? She shouldn’t be long.”

“Of course it’s ok. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Steve smiled, swallowed the last of his pie and took a deep breath. He knew that he didn’t have long to do what he needed to do before Katie arrived so he had to do it now. “Er, Ma, before she gets here, I err, I wanted to talk to you.” He said, his hand gently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” she asked, not looking at him as she reached for 2 mugs in the cupboard.

“Yeah…” god his palms were sweaty, this shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it was, it’s his mom…

Sarah turned to face him, a mug still in her right hand and she frowned at the expression on his face. “What is it son? What’s wrong?

“Nothing’s wrong. Quite the opposite actually.” He took another deep, shaky breath and smiled at his mom. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last few days especially, and, well, with Katie living with me for the past few months it’s kinda hit home just how good it feels, ya know? And I want it all the time…so before I came here, I went to ask Tony for his blessing to ask Katie to marry me.” At his words he watched the mug slip from his mother’s fingers and it hit the tiled floor and smashed. He had expected her to react in some way but not quite like that. “Ma you ok?” He watched as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok Stevie…it’s just…” she blinked “I’ve been waiting for this day to arrive for so long.”

Steve couldn’t resist teasing her “I didn’t say he had given his blessing.”

His mom looked at him, arching an eyebrow “Would it make a difference to you if he hadn’t?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, smiling softly.

“But he has right?” Sarah looked at him “Because I know Howard and Maria would be as happy as I am right now.”

Steve smiled softly. “Yeah. He did. Long Story, but…let’s just say I know Howard would be happy too. But don’t get too excited, she hasn’t said yes yet.”

Sarah scoffed “Oh hush, like she’s gonna say no!”

He smiled softly before he looked at his feet before he glanced back at his mother “So, Ma, I was…I was wondering if I could have you ring?”

Sarah smiled, her eyes shining as she gave a nod “Of course you can son.” She walked towards him and cupped his face “It’s been waiting for you for years.”

Steve smiled, the lump that he had earlier felt in his throat in Tony’s study was back again as he looked at his mom. “You know, there was a time I thought I’d ask you for it for Peggy.”

Sarah shook her head and with a simply shrug stated “I always knew it would be Star’s”

The sentiment hit Steve like a tonne of bricks. First Howard, now his mom. The man he had long since come to regard as a father and his mother had both spotted what he had failed to see for almost a decade.

“Ma…” he managed to choke out, his eyes filling and Sarah smiled.

“I know son. And it makes me so happy to know you’re happy too. Finally.” She leaned up to give him a huge and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the kitchen leaving Steve to his own thoughts. He’d had a few doubts, not about marrying Katie, but whether or not it was too soon, but that fact that neither Tony nor his mother had commented on the fact that they’d only technically been together for 3 months. In reality they’d been with one another for much longer, having been best friends and dare he say it, completely and utterly blind to what was in front of them. There wasn’t a woman in the world that would ever come close. He smiled to himself, suddenly his eye didn’t hurt anymore. After speaking to Tony and his ma, and most importantly Howard’s message he felt like he was living his life how he should be. He had everything he has ever wanted, and more.

Sarah walked back into the room and handed him a black velvet ring box. He opened it, smiling as he took in the ring which sat nestled in the ruby red silk inside of the box. It was a large oval shaped diamond, with a pave set slim band. It was delicate enough to suit his girl but also big enough to be flashy, which he knew she wouldn’t care about but he did. There was something in his ego that wanted Katie to have a decent rock on her finger. But the main thing about it was the sentiment. This had belonged to his great-grandmother, then his grandmother, and now his mother, passed down the Roger’s side of the family for generations until it reached his Pa. He looked at his mom, his eyes straying to her ring finger where she still wore her simple wedding band having stopped wearing her engagement ring some 5 years or so after his father had died. When he had asked her why, she’d sighed and simply said that on what would have been their 10th wedding anniversary seeing it had made her sad as it reminded her of the day his father proposed. He hadn’t pushed her to explain, he understood.

“You know it was pretty unheard of to have a diamond that big back when your great-grandfather bought but, well, you know the Rogers side had some connections so to speak.” She said and Steve snorted. He had a feeling if he dug far enough back into his father’s side of the family he would uncover all sorts of Irish-Italian mob members, which was the reason he had never bothered.

“I forgot how pretty it is” Steve smiled “It’s been years since I last saw it. But I remember how I used to play with it when I was little and you held me in your arms when I was sick.” Sarah smiled fondly “Yes you used to like to roll it around my finger.”

“It was soothing.” Steve said, his eyes on the ring as it sparkled in the light of the kitchen. “I liked how it shone under the light.”

“Maybe one day your kids will do the same to Star.” Sarah said, a little suggestion in her tone and Steve looked at her.

“I’d like that Ma.” He confirmed and she took a deep breath.

“Well, I hope it happens soon.” The looked at him pointedly “I’m getting old Steve and I want to be able to run around after my grandkids.”

“Behave!” Steve laughed, shutting the box as he looked at her, smirking “There’s plenty of life in the old dog yet.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him “Cheeky.”

At that point they were interrupted by the bell ringing followed by the opening of the door and Katie’s voice drifted up the hallway. “You’re such an ass Barnes, I ain’t rung the bell at this house for 9 and a half years!”

His best friend’s laugh hit his ears “ I like the sound it makes.”

Steve glanced at his mom, panic flooding his system as he curled his hand around the box.

“I’ll go see them in…buy you some time.” She nodded. As she walked out of the kitchen he heard her greeting Katie as he hastily stashed the ring box in his coat pocket where it was hanging on the chair back

“Oh, err…” he heard his mom stop and Bucky spoke.

“Sorry, Mrs R, this is…”

“I know who he is James, Sam worked with Steve long before you came back from Russia. I just didn’t know he was your Sam.”

“Sure am, Mrs Rogers. Nice to see you again.

At that point Katie walked into the Kitchen, pulling off her hat and her scarf, her cheeks pink from the cold. Steve smiled and opened his arms. “Hey sweetheart, you feeling better?”

She stepped into his embrace, taking the soft kiss he offered “Much, be even better still when I’ve eaten.”

He smiled and looked up at Bucky as Katie stepped back to take off her coat. “Get a suit, jerk?”

Bucky dropped his jacket onto a chair “Yeah and a pair of shiny shoes your girl insists are in fashion.”

Katie rolled her eyes “He looks good in it right Sam?”

“He sure does but…”

“Don’t say it Sam!” Bucky warned, and Steve had a feeling he knew what was coming next. And sure enough…

“He looks better out of it.”

Katie looked at Steve “See what I’ve had to put up with? Had to pretend I didn’t know em.”

“Welcome to the grossed out by another couple club, doll face.” Bucky looked at her and she rolled her eyes as Sarah laughed.

“They can’t still be that bad James.”

“The tales I could tell you about these two from the last week or so alone are NOT suitable for a Mom’s ears Mrs R.”

“Shut up Bucky.” Katie and Steve shot back in synergy.

“And they do that. Talk at the same time, say the same thing…” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s kinda freaky.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“You can shut up too Sam.” Steve looked at him.

“Hey don’t look at me. I do what he does…” he pointed to Bucky “only slower.”

Bucky glanced around, spotted the smashed mug on the tiles and pointed to it “What happened there?”

Steve looked at the mug, recalling the reason why it had smashed and was desperately trying to think of an excuse when his mom came to the rescue.

“Oh, I was making a tea and along came Stevie with his black eye and my mug slipped.” She looked at Bucky “By the way, James, Steve says you were involved too. Seems like the pair of you are back to being troublesome teenagers again.” She looked at Sam “I’d keep an eye on your boyfriend Sam. He needs to be put in check some times.”

Steve and Katie share a glance at Sarah’s use of the word boyfriend. It was a term Bucky hadn’t actually used when referring to Sam.

“He’s not my, we’re not…” Bucky trailed off as Sam glared at him.

“Well this is awkward.” He mumbled as Sarah narrowed her eyes

“You can’t lie to me James Barnes. You love this young man.”

And just like that Steve found himself smirking at the fact that someone was ripping into Bucky’s and not his relationship for a change

**** Of course Sarah wouldn’t dream of allowing Bucky and Sam to leave without being fed so the 5 of them ate lunch and then before the two men headed off to spend the rest of the afternoon together. As usual, Sarah insisted that Katie and Steve leave her to clear up so they retired to the living room and curled up on the sofa. The fire was on, giving the room a cosy, warm feel and Katie was sitting snuggled up to Steve, curled under a blanket.

After about 10 minutes her attention turned from the TV to his face. Steve could feel her eyes on him and he turned to face her as she sat up and her fingers gently caressed his eye and cheekbone.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him quietly.

“It did, not anymore.” He replied honestly.

“Good, close your eyes.” She instructed. Steve arched an eyebrow at her but did as he was told. She kisses his eyelid and around his bruise tenderly, her breath warm on his skin “Really Stevie” she took his face in both her hands and tiled it left, then right “ I’m so jealous of your eyelashes”

He laughed and opened his eyes, his hand running up the outside of her arm where it rest over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She looked at him

“For what, doll?”

“For punching Ward.”

Steve looked at her, shaking his head “Fucking Bucky.”

“That’s Sam’s job” Katie said making him chuckle a little “Don’t be mad at him, I pushed him into telling me.”

“Should have figured you would.” He shrugged.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you can be persistent when you want to be sweetheart.” He smiled gently. “And you’re welcome. I’d do it again in a shot, you have no idea how good it felt.”

“My hero.” She smiled, “Guess not all superheroes wear capes, huh? Mind you, I’m not sure Superman would go around punching Lois Lane’s ex…”

“For the record, Superman does wear a cape, but that aside, even Superheroes have bad days doll.” Steve shrugged.

“You know, that’s a kid’s bedtime story.” She looked at him and he shot her a cheeky grin.

“I can read it to you tonight if you like?”

“How about you read it to me now Captain?” she arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Grinning he sat back against the cushions and pat his leg, gesturing with his head.

“Come here Doll.”

Katie moved so she was straddling him, her hands smoothed up his chest to his shoulder and his fell to her hips. Both of them threw a glance to the door of the room, conscious Sarah was in the kitchen, but there was no sign of her, Steve could hear her humming to a song vaguely in the kitchen and knew she would be in there for a while. He leaned up, pressing his lips to Katie’s, his hands moving and splaying on her back, pulling her closer.

Somehow it felt different to him. It was the first kiss they’d shard since he asked Tony and his ma those two important questions and it was almost like there was more to it, even though he never thought that would be possible. It struck him that the decision he had come to about asking her to share the rest of his life with her meant he would never kiss anyone else but her again but he didn’t care he didn’t want to.

He pushed up against her and she let out a soft sigh at the contact and rocked her hips slightly. An involuntary grunt slipped from his lips and the kiss grew frantic, for the moment the pair of them forgetting where they were until they heard a plate clatter in the kitchen. Both paused, their eyes opening as they looked at one another before they let out a soft laugh each, the ridiculousness of the situation not passing them by. Both in their 30s, acting like a pair of teenagers.

“How long has it been since you made out with a girl in here?” Katie teased.

Steve hesitated, in all honesty he had no idea. It had been a long time. “Erm, maybe 20 years, a little less?” he shrugged and Katie frowned.

“What, you mean you and Peggy didn’t…”

Steve shook his head “It wasn’t really something she would have done. She was too…proper I suppose is the word.”

Katie cocked her head to one side as if she was considering something before she shrugged “Her loss.”

“Can we not talk about her doll?” Steve said gently. He really didn’t want to think about anything like that. His hands moves and slid up and down the outside of her thighs and he smiled “It’s you and me now. No Peggy, no Ward…and I intend on keeping it that way till the end of the line.”

Katie smiled and her hands moved up to cup his cheeks, fingers scratching in his beard. “I love you Captain.”

Steve leaned up pressing his lips to hers gently before he pulled back, sliding his nose along hers as he whispered to her softly “Love you too doll.”

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

44 notes · View notes

andysbubba · 4 years

Text

𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚 - 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

ɪɴ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀɪᴀɴᴀ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜ ɪꜱ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ꜰᴏᴜʀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴏʟᴅ.

one | two

Steve was wearing his navy blue polo tucked into a pair of grey plaid pants. He was outside the restaurant at 12.57 and he didn’t see Ari’s car from yesterday anywhere.

He considered calling, but figured she’s be there soon.

He went in and smiled widely, “Hi, I’m waiting for Ariana Smith?”

The waitress smiled at him and looked through the stack of papers on the clipboard she was holding. “She isn’t here yet but you can wait at the table.”

Steve took out his phone as he followed behind the waitress. It was already 1. He took a glance outside the restaurant. There was no sign of the lady with wavy light brown hair from yesterday. He looked down at the cracked screen. There wasn’t a notification from her either.

“Shit.”

It was already 1.07 and Ari was still at her office. She got too distracted with reading some proposals that she didn’t even notice the time.

Her office was about 15 minutes away from the restaurant. She could probably rush the drive to about 8 minutes. Probably. But for fucks sake, this was New York, the traffic is practically hell on earth.

Her phone battery was borderline at 8%. Shit. She could probably make a call to Steve. Probably.

She pressed his contact as she got into her car, her phone immediately connecting to the car’s sound system.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“Steve!”

“Hey! Are you alright?”

Ari breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry, Stevie. I just got out of the office. I’ll try to get there in 10.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just drive safely.”

His voice was soft but raspy. Ari could listen to his voice all day long.

“I’ll see you soon, Steve!” She hangs up the call before she got a reply from him.

Ari was wearing a black pair of ankle pants and a long sleeved maroon sweater tucked into her pants. And she was glad she chose to wear sneakers.

She was also thankful that there was an empty lot right outside the restaurant.

The waitress led her to where Steve was already seated. And she felt extremely bad for coming half an hour late.

“Steve. Hey, I’m so sorry,”

The said man stood up as he sees her and she pulled him into a hug as soon as she was close enough. “Hey, no problem. Don’t worry about it,”

Ari settles in the chair opposite him after they pulled away. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready to order, though?”

Steve nods, “Yeah. Are you?”

“I’ll get my regular order.” Ari raises her hand and waved the waiter over.

“Good afternoon. What can I get you?”

“Hi, I’ll get the three cheese ravioli, please.” Ari smiles kindly at the man taking their order.

He turns to Steve.

“I’ll have the beef lasagna.” Steve closed the menu and passed it over to the man.

As they were waiting for the food, Steve went ahead and tried to start off the main topic. “So, what are you,” He paused and cleared his throat, “What are you actually looking for in this... agreement?”

Ari sits up straighter and slightly leaned forward, “Honestly? I want companionship and to take care of someone. I don’t really care about the sexual part of it.” She stops for a moment, “Finding the right person to have that kind of relationship with is... hard.” She looks intently at the man opposite her, “But of course, in return, I’ll give you whatever you want. Well, that is, if we share the same interests.” She smiles at the end, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of her.

Steve picks up some confidence to speak. “Well, obviously I’m a little on the financially unstable side of life.” He chuckles shortly. “And I’m also single, and I like receiving and giving attention. I do enjoy the traditional relationship thing as well, so I have no objections to everything you proposed.”

Ari looks at him, slightly surprised. “That’s it?”

Steve confidently nods.

They were interrupted by the waiter serving their meal and they both waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Then, what kind of boundaries do you have?” Ari noticed the confused look on his face. “I mean, kisses and holding hands, things like that.”

A look of realisation crossed Steve’s face. “I don’t mind any of those, honestly. So I don’t exactly have a boundary?”

“So you’re pretty alright with being and acting like a couple and all that?” Ari confirms and carefully eyed him.

Steve shrugs and nods.

“Words, Steve.” Ari frowns at him.

Steve felt... intimidated.

“I don’t mind doing that.”

Ariana nods her head and smiled softly, “Good.” Her hands picked up the fork and knife to cut into her ravioli. “We’ll see how this goes, alright? If there’s anything you’re uncomfortable with, just talk to me, Steve.”

Steve nods and cuts into his meal, “Yeah, I got it.” He trails off, “So this is like a real relationship right? Like we aren’t supposed to see other people and all that?”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s perfectly fine.” She tentatively eyed the man before continuing. “And Steve, we’ll take it slow, okay? I’ll let you control our pace and we can do this however you want it, alright?”

Steve nods with a tiny smile growing on his lips. “Okay. Will you let me take care of you?”

Hell Steve had so many questions on his mind. But seriously, who the fuck can blame him? It’s like his first time going through this kind of thing.

Ari looked back at him, a little surprised and that expression turned soft. Like she was so goddamn swooned for him. “Of course, Stevie. I’m in this as much as you are.”

“Uhhh, I noticed you’re kind of a workaholic. I don’t wanna be intrusive but I do wanna take care of you and things like that, yanno. So...” He hesitates slightly as he tries to find the right words to say.

Ari smiled softly. “I’ll try to not work overtime too often and I won’t protest if you want to pull me away from work.”

Ari knew too well that she works alot. Hell, if she had to spend all her weekends in the office, she would. She also knew that if she had someone to think about outside of work, it was going to slightly stop her from staying in the office too long.

Steve was startled that she understood what he was getting at immediately. “I didn’t expect you to agree so quickly.”

Ari laughs, “I may be a little stubborn, but I do understand where you’re coming from.”

Steve laughs along and but cleared his throat, “But how is this... thing actually gonna work?”

Ari chuckles, “I guess, I mainly want to spend my free time with you. I wouldn’t mind having you over or going on dates.” Her fingers tapped against the table, “Or cuddles and movie nights. But for the most of it, I don’t have any demands besides letting me take care if you.”

Steve sighed in relief. “And that’s pretty much it?”

Ari had that wide grin on her lips as she laughed, “Just calm down and be comfortable, love. It’s my first time doing this as well.”

Steve looked at her with shock written all over his face. “But you’re so calm.”

“You can’t see how fast my heart is beating through my chest.” She retorts jokingly.

Steve laughs, “At least we got the tough part over and done with.”

“You’re right.” She smiles. Putting her utensils down, she crossed her legs under the table and leaned back against the chair. “So, I recall you taking architecture. What are you currently working on?”

“The lecturer’s having us come up with two plans for modern homes. I already submitted one and the other is due next Tuesday.”

“What are you working with?” Ari was intrigued.

“My first plan was based on open spaces. I’m playing around with flat roofs and glass walls for the second one.” He explains before placing the piece of steak in his mouth.

“Glass the whole house or just the exterior?”

Steve lifts his shoulders and shrugs, “I dunno, I was gonna draw both out and compare which one looks better.”

“Just a tip,” She gives Steve a piece of advice, “the uglier the better.”

Steve laughs, “That’s what my lecturer said too.”

Ari mentally prepared herself and internally sighed.

“Steve.”

He looks up at her and raised his brow, “Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell me Stark’s your lecturer.”

“Professor Stark’s been my lecturer since last year. You know him?” Steve answered and questioned with confusion laced in his tone.

Ari groans. “He’s gonna have my head for going out with one of his students.”

Steve laughs. “I don’t think he’s that bad.”

“I’ve known him for almost 15 years, Stevie.” She sighs, “That man may be married but he’s still as annoying as he was in college.”

“I’ll save you if it ever comes to it.” Steve grinned.

“My knight in shining armor.” Ari pretends to awe and fan herself before winking at Steve.

They both burst out in laughter.

Steve was hunched over the table as he laughs before collecting himself and asking, “Where do you wanna go after this?”

“What do you think about ice-skating?”

“You sure I won’t end up tearing my pants?”

Ari chuckles, “We’ll get you a new pair if that happens.”

“Well then, let’s do it,” Steve grinned.

Ari was holding on to the wheel, Steve sitting in the seat beside her, when the car speaker started ringing with some ringtone.

Ari sighs, seeing it was Sam fucking Wilson. She threw Steve a guilty look and mouthed sorry. Steve nods with a smile, not really caring about it.

She pressed the green button to accept the call. “Make it quick, Wilson. I’m on a date.” Ari calls out.

“Oh, the date that caused you to cancel on the very important meeting with Banner Industries?”

“Shut up, Sam.” Ari’s cheeks were getting a little red. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got some minutes from the meeting with the R&D team for you. What should I do with them?”

“Leave them in my office. I’ll come by and take them tonight or something.”

“Alright boss. Have fun swooning over a-”

Sam’s voice was cut off as Ari clicked the red button.

“So, you cancelled a very important meeting for me?” Steve teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

She looked at him with faux disappointment, “That’s the only thing you got from that call?”

“That’s the only thing that matters to me. Oh, do you want to take those minutes now?”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna ruin our date.” Ari clarified with him with an unsure look.

“You won’t,” He grins, “Besides, I get to see the office of a world renowned architect.”

“Well, if you say so,” She smiles, turning back to face the streets.

“Holy shit. It’s huge.” Steve was gaping at the building and he turned to Ari in awe. “Did you design this?”

“You can say that. Me, Stark, Nat and Sam came up with the whole plan.” She smiles, looking at the building with pride. She turned back to Steve, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her, “C’mon, I’ll show you around,”

The lobby was huge. And really aesthetically designed. And there was a crap load of people inside too.

Steve wasn’t expecting that many people in the first place. What the fuck was he thinking? Walking hand in hand with a fucking talented architect in the company she owns as if he’s not just a kid in Uni.

Everyone was greeting Ari. Wide smiles, bowed heads and good evenings. And Ari returned all of it with a kind smile of her own.

But Steve was shitty nervous. His hand that was holding Ari’s felt clammy and he was disgusted with himself. And the people watching him like he was some artifact on display wasn’t helping either.

Ari felt something was wrong when they finally went into the elevator. “Stevie, are you alright?” She turned to him, eyes gazing into his so kindly.

“Yeah, yeah. A little nervous.” Steve confessed, brushing one hand through his hair.

“You did good, love.” Her hand was caressing his hair, and her touch was so soft. God.

He looks at her in awe, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Hmm?” Ari looks back at him in question.

“Stevie and love.”

The elevator door opens. Ari walked ahead and looked over her shoulder. “It fits you.”

They walked past three doors down the wide hallway. And Steve questioned the woman beside him. “Why three rooms when you only have two executives?”

Ari amusedly turned to him, “Stark didn’t tell you? He was an architect here before he went to CU.”

Professor Stark had mentioned that he was an architect. But he definitely never talked about being an architect at Skulpt Co. or for fucks sake, a freaking executive! Steve eventually realised that was why he always passionately talked about the works from Skulpt Co.

“Ari!”

Steve watched as a dark-skinned man walked towards him and Ari. He was big and muscular too.

“Sam, hey!” She greeted him with a quick hug and pulled away. “What the hell are you still doing here on a Friday?”

“I’m already leaving!” He denies, “Not all of us are workaholics like you, Ari.”

Ari rolled her eyes and playfully kicked his shin, “You and Steve are gonna have a good time together.”

Steve stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. He flashed a smile as Sam turned to him, “Hi.”

Sam grins, holding his hand out towards the other man, “Sam Wilson. What do you say if we ditched Ari and go grab some drinks at the bar?”

Ari sighs and chuckled, pushing Sam away, “Back off, he’s mine for today.”

Sam walks away with his back turned, laughing loudly and he waved at Ari and Steve before going back in to his office.

“So, I’m yours for today?” Steve nudged her lightly.

“And for a long time if this continues, Rogers.” She continued walking, Steve falling in step beside her as they walked towards the glass door at the end of the hallway.

“Well, here’s my second home.” She opened the door and let Steve go in first. Steve was surprised to say the least. There was a black couch and a rectangle glass table on one side. The windows were full glass and a concrete desk faced the door with a white chair behind it. The floor was concrete as well and there was a giant rectangular table off to the other side of the room. It truly looks like an architect’s office.

“It’s a little dull, isn’t it?” Ari asks as she closes the door and heads to her desk. She picked out two red folders from the mess on her desk.

“I love it, though.” Steve tells her.

“Thank you. Nat designed it, though. Said it fits me cause I’m dull and grey.” She chuckled to herself before turning to look at the digital clock on her table, “Should we go now? I don’t wanna risk meeting Sam again.””

Steve laughs, “He’s as bad as Professor Stark?”

Ari shakes his head as she steps forward and slips her arm around his. “Nope. He’s going to steal you away from me and we can’t have that when I still don’t have enough of you.”

Steve laughs with a red tint on his cheekbones. “Shall we move on with our date?”

Ari grins, “We shall.”

“Ari, why are we here?” He held on to her arm and pulled her back as she started to move towards the store.

The slightly large building loomed over the both of them.

“I saw your phone was cracked.” She shrugs.

“But I don’t need a new phone.” He protests.

“Stevie,” She held his big hand with both of hers.

Steve just knew he was gone for.

“Let me take care of you, please?”

The way she looked up at him with those brown eyes made him give in. He reluctantly followed behind as she dragged him into the Apple store.

“Stevie,”

“Yeah?”

“The 11 Pro Max is the latest one right?”

“Yeah. Wait, why?” Steve turns to her in alarm and realisation.

“Wait, Ari. No. I don’t need an iPhone 11.”

Ari winks at Steve and waved one of the Apple salesman over. “Hi! I’m getting a new phone for my boyfriend.”

The guy eagerly replies, “No problem! I’ll show you the latest phones.”

Steve reluctantly walked beside Ari and whines. “Ariiiiiiiii,” He drags with a frown.

“Steveeeeeeee,” She mocks him in reply.

“You’re the one with an iPhone 6.”

“And it’s fully functional, Steve.”

“So is mine!”

“Your screen is cracked. What if you cut your hand with the glass or something?”

“I’m already used to it.” Steve whines.

“Then just let me take care of you, Stevie.”

“I’ll only get it if you get it too,”

Ari reluctantly agrees, playfully holding her hand out for a shake, “You’re a tough man to deal with, Mr Rogers.”

The salesman interrupts them. “The 11 Pro Max is larger than 11 Pro. Both has a triple camera system.“

“The iPhone 11 though, is the same size as the 11 Pro. But it has a dual camera system instead of three.”

Ari thoughtfully turns to Steve, “Do you like it big or small, Steve?”

Ari snorts at her own words.

Steve cringed at her words and laughed. “I’m taking whatever you’re taking.”

“Steve Rogers. If I end up picking, you’ll be going home with more than a new phone.” Ari threatens.

Steve flashes a grim smile at the salesman. “We’ll get two of the 11 Pro.”

“Color?”

“Green, please.” Steve answers.

The guy nods and left, leaving Steve with Ari.

Ari smiles and reaches up and pat his head, “See, it was that easy.”

“You just spent 1 grand on a guy you only met today.”

“Technically, I met you yesterday.”

Steve sighs, “Point is, you just met me.”

Ari laughs lightly and took his hand in hers, “You’re gonna have to get used to this, Steve.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #sugar baby steve rogers #soft steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers one shot #chris evans #cevans #chris evans x reader #cevans x reader #cevans fluff

22 notes · View notes

capsized-heart · 4 years

Text

Lady Liberty and The Captain / Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (1940′s Brooklyn AU)

Summary: You are a rising young star and the newest breakout actress in Hollywood’s Golden Age! When war finally descends on the west, your reputation as America’s Sweetheart finds you cast in a promotional picture alongside Captain America himself.

Yet, he looks eerily familiar, like your Stevie from childhood…

Word count: 4.7k+

Warnings: fluff!!

A/N: hello, everyone!!!! I hope you’re staying home, warm, and safe during these crazy times. I’ve been snuggling with my doggie and continuing with my university’s online classes in my final semester..absolutely crazy how things are rn. I hope this new story can help brighten up your day just a little bit.

First of all, I just want to say thank you💖💛for all the love that old and new readers alike have shown this blog recently. I’ve been writing on this platform for a little less than a year and I never thought l’incendie would blow up as much as it has. You guys are amazing. I’m really excited and eager to share new pieces and hope you enjoy the content I have coming! Please don’t hesitate to pop in and say hi, or shoot me a message. I’ve really enjoyed connecting with readers and would love to know your thoughts on my fics, or just to talk about fandom stuff! Timmy included! PAHAHA

So, this chapter is gonna be a part of a mini-series for a 1940′s writing challenge and I’m using the prompt of wartime romance! This will probably be split into two or three parts and I will tag the host as soon as the last chapter goes up, I’ll most likely make a masterlist in the end as well. Reader has a name in this fic, but hopefully the choice of name will make sense later on :D

As always, feel free to drop a ask/message if you’d like a tag in the next update.

ENJOY!

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Film: ‘Apple of Discord’, Lola Swanson’s Dazzling Debut!

By NICHOLAS WATTS September 1, 1943

----------

The film drama from the original screenplay written and directed by Andrew Campbell opened to a roar of applause and acclaim at the Radio City Music Hall yesterday evening. Apple of Discord is a reimagining of the myth and Plato’s allegory, focusing on the tumultuous, profoundly elegant life of a young noblewoman during the Trojan wars.

The film’s frontrunner and leading lady is Hollywood newcomer, young and fresh-faced Lola Swanson. Swanson’s performance is so thoughtful, so unfaltering, so intelligent and controlled that it is hard to believe this is little Lola’s long awaited motion picture debut. And what a debut this is!

Starring opposite Hollywood veterans Sean Schultz, Kash Dennis, and Gracie Smith, this star-studded cast packs punches and sizzling chemistry and yet, Swanson does not fizzle out but confidently holds her own, demanding your attention in every scene, and rightfully so. Watching Swanson in this picture is watching a major actress in the making.

Born and raised in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen before moving to Brooklyn to pursue acting, some may recognize Lola from her daytime television roles in Insanity and Passion, It’s a Date! and as Jessica in Jessica Davis Returns.

Now we know these roles were preparing Swanson for the debut of the decade.

“APPLE OF DISCORD” is now showing at the Radio City Music Hall and Cinema 2. Tickets at 25 cents. Running time: 139 minutes.

★★★★☆

——

APPLE OF DISCORD, written and directed by Andrew Campbell; director of photography, Laszlo Kovacs; edited by John Wright; music by John Barry; released by Universal Pictures.

----------

The newspaper trembles hard between your fingers, threatening to tear its edges. Pulse pounding, ears ringing. You can’t stop smiling. You feel like crying.

You reread the words again and again, the words written by legendary film critic Nicholas Watts, the man you’ve only dreamed of making an impression on, that he’d someday see you in a picture. And here he’s written a glowing review of your major motion picture debut.

You erupt in a fit of giggles and screams, twirling around the small space of your apartment in a swirl of nightgown, pinned curls. A neighbor, Mr. Krisinski, you think, pounds on your wall to shut you up.

It’s still early morning and you had gone downstairs at first light to buy a paper from a newsboy. Outside your window, the streets of New York already yawn and bustle with morning commute. The movement of people, gleaming automobiles against the red brick buildings and muted gray of Manhattan. Warm sun washes over it all, your heart brimming and full, mirroring the glow of golden dawn.

You feel on top of the world. Maybe you’ll finally make it here.

Your phone rings. You rush over to the mint blue rotary telephone on your bedside table, snatch up the receiver before Mr. Krisinski can break down your door with all the racket you’re making.

“Hello?” You say into the mouthpiece, cradling it between your hands. You feel breathless, high strung and buzzing, like you’d just downed a whole case of Coca-Cola, whirring with the taste of sugar and success, bubbling with starpower. Maybe it’s Kash or Gracie calling to congratulate you. Hell, maybe even President Roosevelt.

“Lola! It’s me. Have you read the paper?” The cool voice of Peggy asks you through the receiver. You quietly laugh at your own fantastical expectations. Of course it’s Peggy. Punctual, collected Peggy.

Peggy Carter is your talent agent and manager at MGM. Peggy had snatched you up while you had been working as a background actress on Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca, so hopeful and beholden just to be in the presence of such respected artists, willing to stay the extra hours even after the other girls had gone home when realizing they wouldn’t be seen in the shot. It hadn’t been your first time on a hot set, you were used to the itchy costumes, long hours of endless waiting, and the empty stomachs, but no way you were going to miss a chance to see Ingrid Bergman and Madeleine LeBeau up close.

Back then, only a few years ago yet a lifetime away it seems, Peggy had been a casting assistant, seeing your dedication and marching right up to you between takes to hand you her card. On the back, written in smooth blue ink, a time the next morning for an audition at MGM Studios in downtown New York. Eight o'clock sharp.

You didn’t sleep at all that night after you wrapped.

She’s worked at getting you into audition rooms and meetings for years, pushing you onto writers, production assistants, riggers, directors. She had secured you an audition with Andrew Campbell after “accidentally” leaving your headshot in his mailroom and later calling his assistant with threats of stolen property. MGM’s new fresh face had been penciled in for a side read the following week.

Fierce, ingenious, and your own bright star, you’ve risen through the ranks and fought your way up with Peggy at your side.

“Yeah, Peg. I have it here in front of me. This is...absolutely nuts.”

“Not really, you were brilliant in the picture, darling. But it’s a comfort to know Watts has finally replaced that cotton in his brain with some sense.”

Another laugh from you, twirling the telephone cord around your finger.

“Let me have this one, Peg.”

“If you insist.”

You hear the rustling of newspaper from the other end. You can practically see Peggy sitting at her desk, perusing the paper over a morning cup of coffee, her hair curled, makeup and nails all scarlet red and perfect. The golden placard glittering on the frosted glass of the door.

Margaret Carter, Casting Director.

“I’m calling to tell you about an offer we received this morning from Paramount. I think you should take it.”

That rush of giddiness burns bright again in your veins, pulse skyrocketing.

“Paramount? Geez, what did they say?”

“They want you for a promotional picture that’s being produced by Senator Brandt. Brandt is hoping to boost the homefront’s war bond sales with a little starpower from you and from Captain America. You’ve seen his posters, haven’t you? That costumed bloke?”

You have. Plastered everywhere and looking like an absolute buffoon. Nice physique, though.

The disappointment that settles in your stomach is ugly and cold, like a fruitless pit, hard, rough, a sour taste in your mouth. It’s stupidly childish, yet your own expectations for your first movie, first box office hit, for that very first taste of the promised fame and fortune of success, begin to blink out. Expectations you’ve held on to since you were a little girl, since you realized this is the type of work you want to do for the rest of your life.

You’ve managed to impress Nicholas Watts, the most cynical film critic in all of Hollywood, and this is your big break? A Paramount picture featuring you and a tights-wearing mascot?

Peggy is practically asking you to star alongside Mickey Mouse.

“Is that all they offered?” You respond. You wince at the demanding, ungrateful tone. Afterall, showbiz has hardened you to go after what you want, to take and take because this lifestyle does not guarantee anything. You’re told no more than you are yes, the constant rejection having molded you into a diamond tough girl, glitzy and solid, unbreakable, beautiful.

But how many girls would kill to be in your place?

“The only sensible deal. They also offered you the role of Violet for It’s a Wonderful Life, and Ruthie in The Grapes of Wrath.”

“What?! Peggy, contract me for those instead!”

“Well, I’m not going to. And you listen well as to why.”

You twist your lips together. Peggy’s voice filters clipped and disapproving through the phone line, the way she always gets before she offers you damned good advice.

“Not just Watts is impressed with your work, Lola. You’re finally turning heads and for all good reasons. Anyone can get in front of a camera if they have the right look. But you’ve shown them that you have the look and the raw talent. Critics are saying you’re rivaling Judy Garland, darling. And you’re telling me you want the part of a lousy love interest? A secondary daughter? All because the pictures have big names behind them and people may go see it?

“No,” you mumble.

“No is right. You know better than anyone that people expect young stars to burn out fast so they can take their place. It’s all business. If I put you in for those roles, we’d be playing right into their hand. We’d use up all your potential in one summer. The public would get sick of seeing your face in every big picture. We have to earn their affection, darling. It’s slow and tame and not always glamorous, but this deal is smart.”

You listen, silently.

“Morale is low. War is when people turn to familiar pastimes and simple pleasures. To treat themselves, to take their minds off all the grizzly headlines. Captain America embodies all of that and more. If we take this, I promise you, Lola, that people will remember you as the girl who got them through the darkest times. This will do wonders for your career years down the line. And then, if you still want to play Violet, I’ll phone Frank Capra myself.”

You close your eyes and draw in a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Wonderful. I’ll phone Paramount now. We’ll be in touch.”

Growing up with poor Irish immigrants for parents, the rare moments you could afford to splurge on luxuries, you spent them at local cinemas and theaters with your brother. Any day was a good one when you and Samuel bought tickets for a noon screening, the cheapest showing of the day, scraping together pocket change to split a popcorn if you were feeling extra special.

And reclining in a nearly empty theater with refreshments and goodies between the two of you, you’d watch the silver screen with hope in your mouth and stars in your eyes. In here, it no longer mattered how little money you had, or the discrimination your family faced, or the war in Europe, or the meager apartment you’d go home to, lucky if the electricity and heating had been paid for. In here, nothing else mattered but the visual stories.

And you realized that you wanted to help tell them. You wanted to be in front of the cameras, to embody characters and personas and let audiences worldwide empathize and identify with your performances.

You’ve loved playing make-believe since you were a little girl, having never really grown out of it. You could do it, you think. Dangerous dreams, perhaps, but what child doesn’t hold this wish within them? To see their name in lights and to be admired and commended, but most of all, to provide for their family?

How hard could it be?

At sixteen, you land your first speaking role. It’s pathetic. You’re working on set as background, per usual, only this time, the director picks you out from the crowd and gives you the line of, “Good morning, sir.” You’re to look off camera as the actor playing Kent entered the scene and you would then say your line.

You’re stupidly excited. Three simple words. You’ll be uncredited, of course, but your face would finally be seen! With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the scene resets, Kent takes his mark, the cameras roll, and you deliver.

The scene is cut from the final reel.

You pound the pavement. You scour newspapers and flyers for casting calls, you phone agencies and playhouses, you save up to get your picture taken on glossy photo paper. You keep looking. You keep working in background until you can land a steady role.

Then, you finally get one. A miniscule part of a friendly neighborhood girl on a TV drama for CBS. You only have mere minutes of screen time, but the checks that arrive in the mail from Columbia Broadcasting System after your first few episodes air say otherwise.

You open a savings account. You plant your paychecks and watch them grow into a comfortable sum of money. You land another guest starring role for a daytime soap, the secretary of the title character. Combined with your parents’ salaries from your mother’s sewing and your father’s work on the railroads, you become the main breadwinner.

You move your family out of Hell’s Kitchen, out of your cramped, dark apartment. You sign a new lease under your new stage name and move to Brooklyn together.

Brooklyn is slightly cleaner, but the familiar hustle and bustle, the noise of shopkeepers and dialects and children and cars is comforting, grounds you in your roots. When your CBS drama wraps months later with your last check in the mail and you’re looking for your next gig, your brother works odd jobs to help shoulder the burden. Brick laying, chimney sweeping, milk and mail delivering, Samuel becomes no stranger to any and all work, so long as it pays. You become a typist on the side as you wait for auditions and callbacks.

Samuel tells you his aspirations to be a poet, a writer. He hasn’t said a word to your parents, but he shows you the small bound notebook he carries with him, leafing through pages of prose and verse. You encourage him to submit his work to newspapers, publishers. He gives you a shy smile, says he’ll consider it as soon as you get your motion picture debut. You shake on it. Together, your already close bond of brother and sister grows stronger as you each work to support your art.

You’re waiting for Samuel to finish his shift so you can catch a late showing of His Girl Friday, a warm September day when you first meet Bucky Barnes down at the wharfs. He’s tall, lean, and glistening with sweat when he rounds out of the warehouse with an armful of crates and nearly knocks you off the pier.

“Hey, watch it!” he snaps. His eyes flash like the water around you, blue and cold and dangerous. Brown locks curl with perspiration against his forehead, the sleeves of his workshirt rolled up over his shoulders, the exposed skin of his throat and arms flushed and tan.

Embarrassed, you try to steady him, to which he growls in annoyance and spins out of your reach. He makes a great show of bearing the weight himself, grumbling as he sets down his load. You don’t miss the way the muscles in his back flex and dip. It isn’t until he slowly stands back up, wiping his palms on his khakis, that you get a good look at each other.

The hostility in his eyes softens ever so slightly, simmering into a look that cinches your chest tight when his gaze travels shamelessly up from your kitten heels to the curves of your lips and cheek. His breathing is still labored as he surveys you and you can feel heat and color blooming against your skin. When his eyes finally settle on your face, you can’t decide whether you want to slap or kiss him.

“You lost or something, honey?” He asks with a whisper of a smile. He strolls in a lazy half-circle in front of you and moves to go back up the ramp to the warehouse. Then, he pauses and turns back to you.

“Have we met before? I swear I recognize you from somewhere.”

This delights you deliciously, that a handsome young man you’ve met by chance has seen your work. Not glamorous, acclaimed roles by any means, but recognition nonetheless. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress your smile and give him a coy, bashful flutter of your eyelashes.

“If that were the case, I’m sure I’d remember you.”

He grins wolfishly, pleased, and takes a step closer. “Yeah? Think you’ll let me take you out for dinner tonight?”

“She’s got plans with me, Buck.” Samuel’s voice carries across the water. Your brother emerges with wooden boxes and sets them between you and Bucky in a huff, as if he’s implementing a physical barrier, both childish and endearing. Bucky glances at you and Samuel.

“Are you two..?”

“Steady? No. She’s my sister.”

Bucky snorts and his eyes find you again, glittering in the evening light. “You never told me you had a sister, Sammy. And such a looker too..”

“Makes you wonder why I never brought her up,” retorts Samuel and gives him a playful shove, traps him briefly in a headlock. “At least Steve wouldn’t ogle.”

“Stevie would get a nose bleed and pass out.” You hear Bucky grunt back. Samuel moves as if to dump him into the drink and Bucky pinwheels, scrambling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Satisfied, Samuel releases him and socks him in the shoulder for good measure. Bucky stumbles, looking boyish and smooth despite his shirt and hair all disheveled.

You’ve seen his type in casting offices all across New York; bold, alluring, and charismatic. It’s a look and type you’ve longed to act opposite of someday, as all young starlets dream of, but a look that simultaneously sparks the feminine temptation that shivers between your breasts. You wonder if Bucky would look the same in a dark bedroom, with him on top of you and your fingers running over his back…

Bucky grins toothily when he catches you staring and shoots you a wink. None of those movie star hopefuls hold a candle now to his rugged, spirited charm.

Samuel guides you back up the pier so he can punch out his time card and the two of you can be on your way. And as you’re about to set foot on solid ground, you hear Bucky call out to you.

“What’s your name, honey?”

Samuel sighs and shakes his head. “Cripes.” He mutters to himself. Before Samuel can stop you, you laugh and turn back to the water with a fresh and girlish aire, warmth and excitement whispering through your veins, young and naive and sixteen.

“Dolores!” You give him your full name, your real name. For once, you don’t want to be Lola Sparks. You want to be your natural, honest self, the girl who deserves young love and joy and an untroubled adolescence. The sound of your voice rings clear and strong, the diva that you are, and Bucky’s mouth curves upwards.

“See you ‘round, Dot.”

Much to Samuel’s displeasure, you tail your big brother around the docks like a lost pup whenever you have time. And being a C-list actress and a part-time typist, you have plenty of it. You loiter with the excuse of bringing sack lunches, waiting on Samuel and Bucky at the edge of the warehouses. It’s lonesome and bores you to no end being all by yourself, until one afternoon when someone is already waiting at your spot by the pier.

Small, skinny as his own shadow with a fringe of blonde hair, he leans hunkered and folded within himself, timid and seemingly conscious of how he occupies space. His jacket droops over his shoulders, eyes downcast even as you approach. He has a sketchbook in his hands, concentrated as the pencil moves across the page in fast, gentle strokes. You see an impressive likeness of the piers and Bucky’s distant figure in charcoaled lines.

“That’s really something.” You say.

He jolts so hard the paper tears and he crumples it into his fist in a single motion. “Huh?” he answers. When he looks to you, you realize his eyes are a pretty shade of teal. He flushes, petrified, the tips of his ears coloring pink. You feel horrible when he goes to pocket the ball of paper.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” you breathe. Gently, you offer your palm to him. “If you’re not keeping it, do you mind if I have it?” You ask softly. A few seconds pass and he shakes his head before placing it in your hand. You unfurl the paper, carefully smooth it out as he watches you from the corner of his eye.

Shyness is a barrier of art you’ve known all too well, from your own experiences in audition rooms to your brother’s reluctance to find a publisher, you understand that sting of insecurity better than anyone. So, you let him watch you as you admire his work, let him know of his talent and let your actions speak for you. You smile and slip the drawing into your purse.

Then, his stomach grumbles audibly, almost comically loud. He folds his arms around his stomach, so tight you’re afraid he’ll snap in half. You quickly reach into one of your paper bags and hand him a sandwich wrapped in cellophane and a can of lemonade.

“Here, let’s trade.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I can’t accept..” he starts. The timbre of his voice is surprisingly gallant and sure, pleasant, sweet. You have a gut feeling that the world has been taking advantage of that kindness his whole life, scaring him away from genuine compassion, that everything must have a catch. It makes you press harder.

“I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do for sneaking up on you.” He eyes you warily and again that feeling of regret washes over you. “Consider it payment.” You smile.

Finally, he takes Samuel’s lunch from you and unwraps the sandwich. He eats quickly and quietly, draining the lemonade only minutes later. Perhaps it’s his bony statue, but you feel happy to see this stranger eat.

When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth and turns to you. His lips, pretty, pink, part as if about to speak, yet no words leave him. Instead, he stands frozen with that transfixing blue-green gaze keeping you still, lingering.

That is until a stream of brilliant scarlet red dribbles down his chin and splatters onto his dress shirt. He pinches his nose, doubling forward and his flustered complexion matching the blood spilling from his nostrils.

“You must be Steve,” You laugh lightly and quickly hand him your handkerchief of cream yellow lace and embroidered flowers. You help steady him as he keeps his head tilted down. “Bucky’s told me all about you.”

Steve groans and presses the handkerchief to his face, blushing all the way down to his neck.

Steve returns your handkerchief days later with an embarrassed hush, carefully cleaned and laundered. It smells of lavender and clean linen and the image of him working the fabric between his thin fingers with soap and suds warms your heart.

You tell him it’s his. He blooms and keeps it neatly folded in his breast pocket.

You and Steve quickly grow close in the hours you spend together waiting on Bucky and Samuel. You pack extra lunches for him and sit by the piers chatting, skipping stones as Steve sketches the Brooklyn skyline day in and day out.

“Draw me!” you tease. “Isn’t that the request that all artists want to hear?”

But surprisingly, he does. He always draws you and Bucky and Samuel with striking, intimate familiarity. His sketchbook gradually fills with portraits and pictures of you, sketches that could put your very headshot to shame.

After their usual shifts, the four of you head to the drugstore for your ritual of sodas and sundaes. Two pairs, brother and sister and brothers by blood enjoying a rare wartime treat. With the rations on sugar, it’s a special and memorable circumstance just to be together and sharing something sweet.

It’s there, at your corner booth in Wolfe’s Pharmacy over ice cream, that Bucky opens up a paper for that night’s television network schedule and sees your name.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Dot,” he says. “What do others call you?”

Defeated, you twist your lips, hesitant to break the short spell of normalcy you’ve had with your new friends. Samuel sips at his Coke with a silent grin.

Time for the truth to come out.

“Well, ‘doll’, by Stevie,” you giggle and toe Steve’s foot under the table. Steve shyly shrinks back into his seat. “But CBS calls me Lola.”

Bucky’s jaw drops.

“Get out of here. You’re pulling my leg..”

“I absolutely am not.”

“Sammy, tell me she’s pulling my leg.”

“She’s not.”

Two pairs of brilliant blue eyes dart between you and your brother. Bucky’s face breaks into an open smile, laughing. Steve lurches forward.

“Have you ever met anyone famous?” Steve prods with a hint of that honest, innocent charm.

You wrinkle your nose sheepishly. “Mason Cook?”

“Who?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of sundae.

“Exactly.” Samuel snorts.

“Well, I’m sure he’s very talented.” Says Steve.

You swipe his maraschino cherry and let the stem dangle between your lips. “At least Stevie believes in me.”

“Dot, honey. I saw your pilot episode. If anyone’s a fan, it’s me.” Bucky feigns hurt, hand to his chest.

You stick out your bottom lip before sucking in the stem, working it into a tight knot in your mouth. “Are you still gonna be when your girl is signing autographs with John Wayne?”

You place the knotted stem on your napkin. Bucky nearly chokes.

“I better be.”

Samuel coughs. Steve giggles.

You thank your stars that your secret doesn’t change anything between Steve and Bucky. They treat you just the same; as Samuel’s baby sister who tags along with the boys. The teasing, the fleeting looks all unchanging.

Girls, you’ve unfortunately realized, are catty and mean. You’re competing for roles, after all. But with Bucky and Steve, your first taste of homecoming since moving to Brooklyn, you don’t have to worry about silly competition, or fame, or being the best in the room. They keep you level-headed, reminding you of your girlhood and life’s simple pleasures.

Bucky drives you and Steve around town in the company truck on weekends. Hopscotch and jacks on brick roads and warm nights, watching sunsets until the sky blushes peach and mango yellow at Coney Island.

A Saturday afternoon on Rockaway Beach, a vacation for you all after a draining week of work and auditions when Bucky promises to win you a stuffed bear when he sees you eyeing the one on careful display.

“Buck..Bucky, give it a rest, we can try the next one.” Steve chides.

Another plastic ring pings off the neck of a glass bottle. Bucky curses, rings his hands together and slaps another dollar onto the counter.

You and Steve trade looks. Bucky’s been at it for ten minutes. At this rate, you know you’ll be walking on the train tracks home tonight.

So, you and Steve huddle close and cheer him on. Do it for our doll! says Steve. Finish it so you’ll stop wasting money, you dolt! you cry. Hell, even the vendor finds it humorous and joins in.

And when Bucky wins that grand prize and you’re handed a teddy bear as big as Stevie, you hoist it on your back, careful to not let it touch gravel or dust as the three of you walk in line with the train tracks later that evening.

Paradise, a sheltered haven from the broken landscapes and realities that the European newsreels broadcast home in grim black and white.

True to Bucky’s word, they become your biggest supporters, helping you run lines and monologues and accompanying you to auditions. Bucky’s not bad for a scene partner, and Steve’s awareness of emotion and character motivation is impressive.

The attention you receive from casting directors and auditionees doesn’t hurt your chances either, lanky Steve and smoldering Bucky wishing you luck before stepping into the green room.

You book a drama. Then, a short film. Then another. You call them your lucky charms.

And when your humble little short film “premiers” at the corner cinema, squeezed in between an empty noon showing of a cartoon rerun, Steve and Bucky whoop and holler when your character is shown on screen. They throw popcorn and gumdrops, jostle you by the shoulders. Bucky even runs down the aisle and mimes kissing the projector screen.

“That’s our girl! That’s our Dot!”

The usher threatens to throw you out. Steve tells him you’ve paid good money for your tickets and you’ll stay and watch as long as you please.

The following week, you’re scouted by Peggy Carter.

Your world, your career will never be the same.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x you #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine

83 notes · View notes

pinnedandneedled · 4 years

Text

I’m Sick of My Face and Yours Most Definitely Isn’t Helping- Part One

This is my first story, and part one of my submission for @sebbbystaaan ‘s 500 follower challenge.

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Warnings change for each part. Except for swearing. Swearing will always be there.

My prompt was, “It’s the first time I’ve seen you look ugly. And that makes me happy.” from Bridesmaids. It will be in bold when I use it.

“Tony,” Steve starts uncomfortably.

“This is a terrible idea.” He says, looking at the stubborn man.

“Yup. But it’s our only option. Good luck telling him.”

He pats Steve on the shoulder and all but runs from the room. Steve groans, rubbing his forehead. This was not going to go over well.

“Bucky, we need to talk.”

“Holy shit, are you pregnant?”

A look of alarm overtakes Bucky’s features. He’s not ready to be-

“S- wait, what?! No! What gave you that crazy idea?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, a newfound calmness and studious look on his face, “in fanfiction that’s what female readers generally start with when telling their love interest that they’re pregnant.”

Steve blanches, his original objective forgotten and replaced with concern for his friend’s interests and mental state.

“Okay, we’ll address how you know that later. But before we continue- I’m a man! There’s no way I could be pregnant!”

“You never know, Stevie. Who knows what your serum did to you.”

As if having an epiphany, Bucky begins looking around wildly.

“This is starting to sound like a Stucky fic- it’s not, I promise you!”

Steve’s concern intensifies.

“What the hell are you talking about, Buck, and to who? Also, what the hell is Stucky and what does it have to do with this situation?”

Bucky turns to look at his blond friend, a gentle smile on his face.

“Oh, Stevie. You innocent child.”

After that... interesting exchange, Steve goes into “Captain Mode,” as it is often called. Bucky takes note of this immediately and straightens up.

“Now, the reason I called you in here is because Tony found someone who he believes is tied to HYDRA.”

After that word leaves Steve’s mouth a grimace forms on Bucky’s face. HYDRA has always elicited this reaction from the brunet, and Steve knew he was about to make things even worse- albeit in a different way.

“The man’s name is Liam Smith. He’s a director and producer for no popular films. Now, upon hearing his name you’d think, ‘wow, that guy has the most common first name for a male and most common last name in America. He must be a boring character.’ And you’d be right. His file is squeaky clean. Too clean.”

“What got him on Tony’s radar in the first place is his obsession with your look-alike, Sebastian Stan. He’s an actor. You two look and sound exactly the same- if you were to cut your hair, or he grew out his, no one would be able to tell the difference- save the metal arm, of course. Now, normally this would be okay, but Smith has notably talked positively about HYDRA to various media outlets. This could be nothing, but we should treat it as something.”

Bucky understood where the captain was coming from. They can’t take chance with HYDRA. Now all that mattered was figuring out what Steve wants him to do. Upon voicing this question, Steve paled noticeably.

“Well, Stan is going to be in a new movie he’s filming.”

No.

“So we figured, seeing as you two look alike..”

NO.

“You can take his place and get information that way.”

N-

“You don't have a choice. I’m sorry, Buck, but you really don’t. We can’t chances, and this is the best way to way to get information, and take him down if he is HYDRA.”

Steve gives Bucky his best sympathetic smile, and this sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. There’s more.

“Alright, what’s this movie about?”

“Looks like we’re partners, Barney.”

(Y/n) wears a smirk as she strolls up to the brooding brunet. Bucky glances down, eyeing her with a glower on his face.

“Don’t call me that. And Steve didn't mention anything about partners.”

(Y/n)’s smirk grows.

“I know, Boinky. I decided it for myself. I can’t let you do this alone. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to see it firsthand and laugh at you.”

Bucky lets out a low growl. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“I fucking hate you, you know that? ‘cause I do.”

(Y/n) rolls her eyes, letting out a sigh at his dramatics.

“If you hate me, then why are we dating?”

“That’s a very good ques- ow! Why the hell did you hit me?!”

Shaking her hand after punching her boyfriend in the gut, (Y/n) plainly states, “Because you swore at me. Well, technically not at me, but in reference to me.”

“It’s not my fault I swear this much,” Bucky frowns, “I get it from being around you and your potty mouth.”

(Y/n)’s face twists up at this.

“Did you really just say potty mouth?”

Shaking her head, she puts her hands on her hips and continues.

“Besides, I haven’t swore once. The readers can confirm this.”

Bucky froze stock-still at her words, shuffling nervously.

“...the what?”

Another smirk forms on (Y/n)’s lips.

“You’re too much of a bucket head to understand the intricacies of the multiverse.”

As the last word rolls off her tongue, Bucky stiffens even more.

“..yeah.. I have so many questions..”

There is a slight tremor in his voice as he says this, making (Y/n)’s (e/c) orbs narrow in suspicion.

“Further proving my point. Anyway, do you remember your role?”

“My role in the mission or my role in the movie? Because I don’t remember shit about “my” character, but I do remember my role in the mission.”

A small sigh leaves (Y/n)’s lips, before curling back into her familiar smirk.

“Well, fun fact- we need to do something about your little look-alike.”

“Wait, why?”

“’Cause we can’t have you both showing up at rehearsals, and we need to get his script. Stark couldn’t get a copy.”

Bucky whips around to look at (Y/n), looking at her like she’d been injected with the G-Virus and grew an eye on her arm.

“Do you know how tightly kept those scripts are?! How do you expect us to get it?”

(Y/n) looks at him with a deadpan stare, her eyes screaming how stupid he is for not figuring it out.

“Were going to find Sebastian, follow him, break into his hotel room, knock him out and then drag his unconscious body into the woods nearby.”

“And leave him there?!”

“No, you dumbass. There should be a safe house there.. should.”

(Y/n) whispered the last part quietly so Bucky wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t.

Bucky nods to himself at her words.

“..so, what are we actually going to do?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“You’re kidding,” Bucky eyes (Y/n), taking note of her stoic expression, “you’re not kidding.”

Turning away from the (h/t), he clenches his fist and looks at the ground in defeat.

“I’m in love with a psychopath.”

Ignoring her boyfriend and his existential crisis, (Y/n) asks FRIDAY for Sebastian’s location.

“Mr. Stan is currently at the Starbucks on [REDACTED] street.”

Nodding to herself, (Y/n) takes on her most common facial expression.

“He has taste. Good. Let’s get moving, babe.”

Resigning to his fate, Bucky nods and begins following behind (Y/n).

“Alright..”

#sebbbystaaan #sebbbystaaan500writingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #not stucky #bucky promises #first story #bamf!reader #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #enhanced!reader #reader smirks a lot #I mean #so much

31 notes · View notes

imagine-avengers · 4 years

Text

Biker Bucky Proposal

This is a drabble/deleted portion of my Biker Bucky series. Which can be found on my masterlist.

Elizabeth and Bucky spent the first three months of Stevie’s life never having a break, both spent the three months sharing responsibilities, changing diapers, making bottles, and late-night feedings. Steve and Peggy both agreed that it was time for the two to step back and relax for a night and Bucky got a reluctant Elizabeth to agree and they both got ready for a night out. Elizabeth pulled on a nice navy-blue dress, one that was tighter than she liked after giving birth, but Bucky told her she wasn’t allowed to change once she put a dress on. So, Elizabeth pulled on a pair of heels after finishing her hair and makeup before meeting her boyfriend in the living room where he was standing by Peggy whom was holding Stevie in her arms. Steve was watching their two kids playing on the floor together.

“Thank you again Peg, Steve.” Elizabeth smiled at both Steve and Peggy, as Bucky rested his arm around her waist. “We’ll be home by eleven, promise,”

“Darling, take your time. You’d do the same for us.” Peggy told him as Elizabeth ran a hand over Stevie’s head. “Go, go, have fun, hell rent a hotel room for a couple hours,”

“Peggy!” Elizabeth scolded with an eye roll before pressing a kiss to her baby’s head.

“Come on Sweets, we’re gonna miss our reservation.” Bucky pulled Elizabeth reluctantly from the house. Bucky and Elizabeth arrived at their reservation and both ate their dinner before Bucky and she took a walk to the small ice cream shop down the street and there, Bucky and Elizabeth found a small bench to sit on. They both sat there talking about how the club was going seeing as Bucky was still involved and going to the bar almost every day while Elizabeth spent time at home with the baby. After the two finished their ice cream, they began walking around Brooklyn.

“This is nice.” Elizabeth said after a while, holding onto Bucky’s hand and his arm

“It is, we should do it more,”

“Maybe when Stevie is a little older, I miss him.” Elizabeth glanced over at James as he was staring down at her.

“I do too sweets.” Bucky spoke smiling at her as she pulled herself closer to him. The two walked around for another hour and before they knew it, it was almost eleven, so they began heading back to the new car that they had bought when they found out Elizabeth was pregnant. “Sweets,” Bucky stopped and turned to her. “Lizzie.” She paused and smiled at him.

“Yeah baby?” She asked as Bucky began to fiddle with his pocket. “What’s going on?” She noticed he was fidgeting.

“Gods, I love you, you know that right?” Elizabeth nodded at his words. “You are by far, the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, you’ve given me everything I could ever want. Your love, Stevie, and I hope you’ll give me a yes,”

“A yes?” Elizabeth asked, not understanding where he was going with this.

“A yes.” Bucky nodded, smiling as he pulled out the black velvet box and knelt on one knee. “Elizabeth Smith, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?” Bucky asked as Elizabeth began tearing up before nodding.

“Yeah you nerd,” She teased grabbing a hold of his face. “Of course I’ll marry you James.” Elizabeth said softly before kissing him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked when they pulled away. “You’ve made me the happiest person in the world.”

“Baby, let me tell you, if anyone has made someone the happiest person in the world, it’s you whom made me the happiest I’ve ever been.” She spoke as Bucky stood and slid the ring onto her finger. “I love you, so much.” The two ended up heading home and walked in to find Peggy and Steve sitting at the couch, while Emma and JJ were both asleep in the guest bedroom.

“Show me the ring!” Peggy gushed, the minute they walked in the door.

“Gosh Peg, what if I said no?” Teased Elizabeth as Peggy rushed towards her and took her hand.

“You would never.” Steve stated as he stood up and headed to where Peggy was pulling Elizabeth into her arms. “You’ve been in love with him since we were like sixteen.”

“Congrats!” Peggy pulled them both into her arms before Steve hugged Lizzie and patted Bucky on the back.

“Told you she’d say yes, jerk.”

“Yeah yeah, punk.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Is Stevie in his crib?” Elizabeth asked, Steve nodding as she made her way past him. “Guest rooms are for you guys, I’d rather you stay than drive home so late.” Elizabeth spoke, as they had four rooms and two of them were guest rooms.

“Thanks Lizzie. Goodnight.” Steve spoke as he watched Elizabeth head up stairs to where Stevie was sound asleep in his crib. After Bucky stood talking to Steve and Peggy, he headed up stairs where he found Elizabeth rocking the baby after feeding him.

“Come on sweets, lets go to bed.” Elizabeth looked back at her fiancé and nodded before putting Stevie back in his crib and taking Bucky’s hand. The two headed to their room, turning the nursery light off before Elizabeth began to take her makeup off.

“Can you undo me?” Elizabeth swept the hair off her back and Bucky began to unzip her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before moving away to undress himself. “Thank you, baby.” Elizabeth sent a smile his way before she undressed and pulled on her pajamas before throwing her hair up into a bun and climbing into bed next to her fiancé. “I love you James Barnes.” She spoke kissing him softly.

“I love you Elizabeth soon to be Barnes.”

#bucky barnes aesthetic #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes

3 notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 5 years

Text

Tennis Court

Steve Harrington x reader

warnings: popping bottles pop pop

a/n:

prompt: Tennis Court - Lorde

You and your clique of entitled delinquents sat in the back corner of your English class, snickering at some stupid joke Steve had made about the teacher’s in-bed experiences. Steve sat to your right, Tommy sat behind you, and Carol sat to Tommy’s right. Tommy had a thing for yanking at your hair when you least expected it. Right now, you were drifting off because Ms. Smith was one of the most boring teachers around, especially when she talked. She used unnecessary big words that you didn’t know the definition of half the time. It was Tommy’s time to shine.

“Tommy, cut it out!” You grabbed the back of your head and rubbed your scalp, glaring back.

“Ms. Y/N, please don’t disrupt my class again.” Ms. Smith requested, to which you merely rolled your eyes and put your head down on your desk.

“Don’t be a dick, Tommy.” Steve told him lowly.

“She can defend herself, Harrington, no need to get your panties in a twist.” Tommy remarked and turned to Carol for some meaningless conversation. God, what did you do wrong to get here. Of course, you loved your friends, but they were just so goddamn rude and stupid. At least you’d get a break from them after today, you were going out of town this weekend.

—————

Steve picked you up from your house Monday morning, you dragged your feet as you walked across your front yard, then opened the car door and fell into your seat.

“How was Indianapolis?” Steve asked you as you pulled the car visor down for the mirror and fixed your hair.

“It was nice, I saw some family and landmarks and shit, a lot more stuff to do than Hawkins.” You pushed the mirror back up and turned to him.

“Is that a new necklace?” Steve asked, staring at the shiny little pendant hanging around your neck. You placed your hand on it and took it between your fingers.

“Oh, yeah, my aunt bought it for me. Do you like it?” You smiled and Steve nodded. “She gave me this ring, too. It was my grandma’s.” You showed him the little silver ring on your finger.

“Very nice, very nice.” Steve drove down the roads of Hawkins, hitting just about every pothole there was.

“Watch it, Stevie!” You giggled. “You don’t wanna mess up the brand new BMW your dad paid for.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve pulled into the school parking lot. “He’ll just buy me a new one.”

“Lucky you.” You gathered your belongings and waited for him to park.

“Hey, you get jewelry, I get cars.” He joked. “Deal with it.” You sucked your teeth and stepped out of the car, only to be greeted by the insufferable Carol and Tommy H.

“Hello, lame asses.” Carol approached you. “Ooh, new necklace? I have to borrow that sometime.”

“In your dreams, ginger.” You walked right past her and to your locker. You forgot your makeup in your locker, so you had to do it there.

“Y/N, we’re gonna be late for class.” Steve stood behind you, waiting for you to finish your routine.

“Since when do you care about getting to class on time?” You chuckled. “And just a minute, I need this.”

“No, you don’t, you looked perfect before. I mean, you look good with it on, too, but just as good without it.” Steve rambled. You turned around to face him.

“Okay, that’s enough on that,” You rustled around your bag for mascara, “I’m almost done.” You applied the mascara and threw it back into your bag, tossing that back into your locker and slamming it. “Alright, c’mon.” You led the way to class and walked in, everyone staring at you and Steve, whispering rumors.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to the class clown and beauty queen!” Tommy clapped all by his lonesome. You and Steve dropped your things at your respective seats and sat down. The teacher ignored your late attendance and started class. Sometimes you thought that Tommy was just trying to ruin the reputations of you and Steve so he could come out on top, after all, you were all in line for the throne.

“So, what were you guys up to?” Carol whispered to the two of you.

“Miss ‘Beauty Queen’ here was putting her second face on.” Steve beat on his desk with a pencil, turning his gaze to you.

“And Mister ‘Class Clown’ was bitching about being late, as if he cared.” You shook your head.

“Excuse you, I do care about my attendance.” He told you, matter-of-fact. “Ever since they called my parents about the whole ‘truancy’ shit, I’ve had to get my act together.” You chuckled at his wording and shook your head.

“Anyways,” you turned to face all three of them, “plans for tonight? You got anything?”

“We go where the night takes us.” Tommy smiled and leaned back in his chair, chewing his pencil, to which Carol scrunched her face in disgust and grabbed it by the end. “You think you can sneak out tonight?”

“I guess.” You answered. “Could you give me a ride, Steve?”

“Yeah, Steve, give her a ride.” Carol and Tommy leaned forward and giggled, you sighed and decided to pay attention to Ms. Smith for a change.

After class, Carol ran to Natalie to talk to her about some stupid secret, then rushed back over to you guys to share the news.

“Change of plans, Natalie is having a party at her house tonight, we’re all obviously invited.” She told you.

“Sweet.” Steve said bluntly. “Still wanna sneak out, y/n?”

“Guess so.” You shrugged.

“Well, then I’ll see you tonight. 9 o’clock sharp.” Steve winked.

—————

“9 o’clock sharp” my ass, you knew he’d be late. He always was. You stared out your bedroom window and watched as he pulled over on the opposite side of the street. You made sure to leave the house as quietly as you possibly could, as soon as you were in the clear, you made a run for it. You hopped in the car and he took off.

“Good evening.” Steve smiled at you.

“Hey.” You said as you buckled your seatbelt. Steve eyed you as you leaned back and shut your eyes, exhaling deeply and regretfully.

“Do you actually want to go to this party?” Steve asked, stopping the car in the middle of the empty road. You hesitated while you thought of your answer choices.

“Not really.” You untensed your shoulders a bit.

“How about we go to the tennis court instead?” He suggested. You nodded in agreement and Steve began driving again. He pulled into the parking lot near the court and parked the car. “I have some stuff in the back.” You got out of the car and he unlocked the trunk, revealing a small cooler, complete with stolen beer and popsicles. Next to the cooler was a box of Cheez-Its.

“You brought Cheez-Its to the party?” You picked the box out of the trunk.

“They were for me.” He laughed and grabbed the cooler, then locked the trunk up and led you to the dimly lit tennis court. He opened a beer for each of you and handed one over. You broke open the Cheez-Its and got snackin’.

Steve ended up getting real with you, telling you things about himself you never thought you’d know. You don’t think he had ever opened up to anyone before, and seeing this new side of him made you feel warm inside, even though it was cold as hell, you didn’t even realize you were shivering.

“Wait right here, I have a jacket in the car.” He rushed back to the BMW and returned with his favorite jacket, which he draped over your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You mumbled. “You think Tommy and Carol are gonna be pissed that we didn’t show up?” You pulled the jacket on.

“Who cares,” Steve took a swig of his beer, “they’re assholes.”

“And here I thought I was the only one that could see that.” You clanked your bottle together with his own and made a toast to hating your friends and the stress that comes with popularity.

Two beers and a box of Cheez-Its later, you had each shared each other’s life stories. You were glad to know this new side of Steve, and he was shocked to hear about your own background. Steve and you scooted closer together and he draped an arm over your shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re friends, y/n.” He told you. “Actually, you’re the only person that I’m glad to call a friend.”

“Agreed.” You leaned your head on his shoulder and grabbed one of his hands. He moved his head slightly and planted a kiss on the top of your head. Maybe these tennis court nights could happen more often.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things 3 #stranger things #stranger things 3 x reader #stranger things 3 imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things 2

56 notes · View notes

wallsinner · 5 years

Note

SQUAD COUPLES : How many kids do they have? Who came up with the name(s)? Who takes after who in terms of appearance and personality? Random headcanon!

Obviously stuff like this is divisive and so if any of my squad doesn’t agree with some points and wants to change them or add their own little headcanons then omg pls do. @bakachanx3 @invaderzia1 @eren-my-sweet @shingeki-no-scenarios

Okay, so Marvie have two kids biologically but because both of them are from big families and are both very maternal/paternal towards children, so later on in their marriage/lives together they would potentially want to foster with a look to adopting.

The names of their children were, in some way, both picked by Stevie, though by proxy in one way -- Eia is their daughter and the eldest it’s just a name that she liked and suggested it and Marco fell in love with it and so she became an Eia. Their son is a different story, his name has a lot of meaning to Stevie and her family and so as soon as they found out their second child was going to be a boy, Marco just started to refer to the bump as ‘Luca’ to Stevie’s delight.

Borh of the children take after Marco more than they take after Stevie -- their hair is dark, their eyes are brown and yes, they have freckles. Parts of them are definitely Stevie though, the shape of Eia’s eyes and her fuller bottom lip, Luca’s nose is all Stevie’s Dad so… they’re a blend but their base is Marco.

Eia is a Daddy’s girl, through and through, Luca has no parental preference and enjoys being around both parents.

Coltzi have at least one child together, possibly they end up with two later down the line but they definitely have one daughter together.

Her name -- Lina -- was picked by Colt, he wanted something that related to Franzi’s Germanic roots and culture, he thought it was a really pretty name and Lina Grice flows together quite well and Franzi really agreed with him.

Lina has Colt’s hair and more of his features would start to show up the older she gets but as a toddler/young child she is all basically Franzi’s mini me. And much like Franzi, she loves sweets and is all about games to the point where they have to have a timer or she would play with the Switch for most of the day. She has Colt’s caring nature too and often makes her Uncle Falco pretend to be a cat so she can play vet with him.

Lina’s best friend is her Mom’s cat, Misi. No matter how many children she meets and bonds with, for years she refuses to have a human best friend and will always tell people Misi is her bestest.

Mean are the proud parents of a set of twins -- David and Zia. To say that twins were a surprise is an understatement and they’re fine with the twins as they were lucky enough to get one of each on the first go! Though they won’t rule out eventually having another child, it is definitely not something on the cards any time soon.

They were named when they were born -- both Maddy and Jean had a lot of strong opinions on what they wanted to name the children and they argued about it throughout the pregnancy and then the twins… sort of named themselves. Zia looked like a Zia and David looked like a David.

They’re both actually a mix of their parents, though because they’re fraternal twins they do have some differences other than the sex of them -- David has Jean’s eyes whilst Zia’s are more Maddy’s. Zia, however, has Jean’s temper whereas David is a little more chilled out and Zia has been known to bite.

When they were younger, the twins used to be able to trick people by pretending to be each other but that stopped pretty early on

Erena have one child, but are very open to the idea of having up to three. Their first born is a son. If they other two were to ever come into existence, they would be another son and a daughter.

Rena is the one who picked their sons name -- Aden and Eren was in agreement with it because e liked the way that it ended in the ‘en’ like he did.

Aden is Eren through and through -- he is almost identical to the way that Eren looked like as a child and he has both of his parents temper -- he can be a little spitfire when he wants to! He is also a naughty little bugger, but he’d grow out of that the older he gets.

Aden would realise pretty young that he identifies as gay and is open about it, once he comes out to Eren and Rena of course.

If and when Erwin and Ji had kids, they would have at least one girl together, but Erwin would absolutely love to have more.

Isobel is a name that Ji picked out, as she’s always loved the idea of naming her daughter Isobel and Erwin is in ultimate agreement because he likes traditional names and it’s quite a nice, traditional name in his opinion and Isobel Smith suits her well.

Isobel has parts of Erwin in her facially, but because she’s mixed race and her mother’s side is the one with the most dominant genes, her eyes, hair and skin tone are all Ji’s. However, a lot of Erwin shines through in her personality and she’s a very intelligent little girl -- she picks up on things very quickly and has always had a strategic mind. From a young age she has been able to figure out how to get stuff like cookies, etc etc when she wants. Obviously Erwin and Ji make it too hard for her eventually, lol.

To add onto Isobel’s having her fathers intelligence -- she’s been raised multilingual and has become somewhat of a language sponge. Not only does she speak English and Filipino/Tagalog with fluency, she picks up other words quickly. (She crept up behind Ji and squeaked ‘Nihao!’ in her ear loudly one day, they still don’t know where she picked that up!)

#squad saturday #squad stuff #marvie #jiwin #coltzi #erena #mean #squad!marco #squad!jean #squad!colt #squad!erwin #squad!eren #Anonymous

7 notes · View notes

healthbetold · 3 years

Text

‘Physical’ explores ’emotional truth’ of eating disorders

She plays an aerobics instructor on Apple TV + Physical, but don’t expect Rose Byrne to lead your next workout class.

“Absolutely not,” jokes Byrne about her athletic abilities. “I think maybe when I was filming, but it’s been many months since we quit and I’m just normal lazy again. I’m basically lazy, I think that’s really the problem.”

“Lazy” is not a word to describe Sheila (Byrne), the disaffected Type A housewife at the center of “Physical” (streaming on Friday). Set in 1980s San Diego, the half-hour dramedy follows Sheila Rubin, who juggles raising her young daughter and helps her husband, Danny (Rory Scovel), a former professor, campaign for the State Assembly. But one day while walking through the mall, she passes an aerobics studio and soon asks for a job as a teacher, hoping to use her dance background.

The show was created by Annie Weisman (Fox’s “Almost Family”), who wanted to explore how women use fitness as a tool to strengthen their personality.

“It was precisely during this time that you really saw how this transition took place between the last traces of idealism of the 1960s and the Reagan era,” says Weisman. The idea “has its roots in women like my mother who felt that the women’s political movement (liberation) had failed and they were finding new ways to feel strong. One of them was through fitness and physical strength.”

With her daughter in tow, Sheila (Rose Byrne) prepares to shoot an exercise demo on the beach in Physical on Apple TV +.Courtesy Apple TV +

The first season of 10 episodes is an endless parade of garish jerseys, curled hair and 80s needle drops from Depeche Mode to Stevie Nicks. Equally crucial is Sheila’s devastating internal monologue as she bullies herself for her weight and appearance. (“Do you think you can pull it off? The disco sex kitten look your age?” She says in one of her less explicit voice-overs.) It’s part of her secret battle with an eating disorder when she binge – eats and flushes food in moments of extreme anxiety or frustration.

The narrative is “deeply uncomfortable, raw and honest,” says Byrne, 41. “Of course Sheila is an extreme example – she’s fighting this disease – but for me it’s also about being a woman. What you think. Then there is this idea of appearances. On the surface, Sheila looks amazing together: she has a family and she is privileged in many ways. “But inside there are uncertainties” about what we all live with. The human condition, if you will. ”

Weisman drew from her own struggles with body image and an eating disorder and wanted to convey the “emotional truth” of this experience.

First celebrity crush: Rose Byrne

Actress Rose Byrne names the Australian she “adored” in her youth. (February 12th)

“The disease is really good at getting you to hide it from the world,” she says. “There was such a distance between what people thought of me and what I felt about myself and what was happening inside of me. So we’re really trying not to just focus on how on this show she is developing physically but also on how she starts her feelings) and knock on that voice. First she applies it against herself and is really self-bullying, and then it becomes something powerful that they turn outward and onto the Let go of the world. ”

“Physical” is set in the early years of VHS tapes, so Sheila tries to monetize her newfound passion by making exercise videos. Weisman took inspiration from fitness superstars Kathy Smith, Denise Austin, and of course Jane Fonda, who started an aerobics empire in the 1980s with their series of best-selling exercise videos.

Sheila (Rose Byrne, left) and Danny (Rory Scovel) struggle to make ends meet after losing his college teaching job.Courtesy Apple TV +

“There’s an obvious reference to Jane Fonda and Thomas Hayden,” says Scovel, a social activist and Fonda’s second husband. “I’ve thought a lot about him and who he was as a person, but I didn’t want to try too hard to be him.”

One of the most lighthearted scenes of the season shows Sheila trying to film a test video on a windy beach, kicking sand in the face and pounding the air when not trying to tease her daughter. For the bumpy moment, Byrne, whose breakout role was Glenn Closes’ protégé in the FX right-wing drama “Damages”, fell back on her comedy past in “Spy” and “Bridesmaids”.

“The test video was funny because it’s her first try and she isn’t getting it right,” says Byrne. “We wanted to make it as chaotic and full of small fires as possible. I’m always looking for the jokes, so any opportunity to do a bit of physical comedy like this is fun. ”

Stories like this are possible because our subscribers are like you. Your support will enable us to continue producing high quality journalism.

Stay up to date by signing up for one of our newsletters.

Published 12:40 UTC June 18, 2021 Updated June 18, 2021 at 12:41 PM UTC

The post ‘Physical’ explores ’emotional truth’ of eating disorders first appeared on Health be Told.

source https://healthbetold.com/physical-explores-emotional-truth-of-eating-disorders/

0 notes

rawiswhore · 3 years

Text

Various WWF Wrestlers x Fem Reader- "Got It? Flaunt It!"

The World Wrestling Federation's Attitude era: a time when most of the matches were violent and bloody, the gimmicks were vastly more adult oriented than in the past, and most of the women's roster were treated and turned into sex objects for male consumption.

Even if a woman was a wrestler who had wrestled for several years before joining the WWF, like Ivory, Jacqueline and Torrie (not Wilson), she was reduced into a sex object and fap material.

Speaking of sexually objectifying women, Jerry Lawler helped provide the commentary during the Attitude era and he's infamous for his sexual objectification of women.

During the Attitude era, he helped make his "Puppies!" catchphrase popular despite that he didn't invent that term.

And when he said "puppies", he wasn't referring to baby dogs.

The Attitude era probably had the trashiest, most shallow people in the audience ever, getting out of their seats and cheering loudly for beautiful but talentless women like Sable and Debra simply because of their beauty and sex appeal and nothing else and especially loving Jerry Lawler's "puppies!" catchphrase, sometimes even chanting "we want puppies!" in the crowd.

Y'know what Lisa Simpson said, you'll never go broke appealing to the lowest common denominator of society.

Near the end of 1999, arguably at the end of the 20th Century, during a "Monday Night Raw" episode, you strolled and strutted through a hallway wearing a black crop top with your cleavage hiked up.

Your tits were pushed up like Britney Spears' chest in that photo of her in her childhood bedroom from that infamous Rolling Stone photoshoot, your breasts were pushed up like Carmen Electra's chest in that scene from "Scary Movie" where her clothes are torn off of her and she's running in a bra and thong in the grass.

Your breasts were showing a lot of skin and flesh, but not enough for your nipples and areolas to be seen.

The camera zoomed in on your chest, only to slowly zoom out and reveal it's you.

The males (both grown men and underage boys) in the audience immediately got out of their seats and cheered when they saw some cleavage, a few of them even wolf whistling at you, Jerry Lawler sitting at the commentary table's eyes almost bugged out of their sockets whilst he shrieked "Puppies!!!" over excitedly.

While you strolled down this hallway flaunting your cleavage, Val Venis was leaning his back on the wall, his long hair hanging down and not tied back in a ponytail whilst he was dressed in his signature towel wrapped around his waist, only to see your chest sticking out.

His eyes grew wide and his grinned from ear to ear seeing your tits, and he walked up to you with his shit eating grin plastered on his face, his eyes staring down at your chest.

He wasn't the only one thirsting over your chest, Christian, yes, that same Christian from the Brood who would form a duo with Edge by the end of the year and blow up in popularity next year, was standing by a wall and he could see your ample bosom sticking out.

Christian had his long blond locks hanging down, not tied back in a ponytail, and he was dressed in a sleeveless shirt with tights.

He walked up to you and looked at your chest, whereas you stopped walking when Val had approached you, letting him take a good look at your tits.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes while your lips were grinning, your body was slowly and slightly swaying from side to side.

Val, meanwhile, was staring and gushing over your breasts with his smooth yet gravelly, iconic voice, and Christian, too, was getting a good look at your chest.

Christian's eyes were glued to your tits and his mouth smiled, and you turned yourself around so Christian can look at your tits, your mouth still grinning while Christian looked at your chest.

Your arms and hands were behind your back, coyly swaying your body left to right like a little girl, even your facial expression was like that of a stereotypical naughty kid.

"Are...are they real?" Christian asked.

You nodded your head.

Christian, too, was gushing over your breasts, and Val tried to invite you to his hotel room, though so was Christian.

Christian got a little bit angry and nearly almost scuffled with Val, but you interrupted them and lifted your arms, resting your arms across the back of their shoulders, your fingers playing with strands of their hair.

You purred to them that they both can come (in more ways than one) to your locker room.

As you said they can both come to your locker room, your eyes were looking back and forth at them while your lips grinned from ear to ear.

They liked that idea, both of them nodding their heads and grinning.

"They're some lucky men!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed on commentary.

"So...what time can we meet up?" you asked them.

"After the show?" Val suggested.

"Yeah!" Christian chirped, nodding his head and smiling.

"Sounds good to me" you purred, still grinning and smiling.

You pulled your arms off of their shoulders and walked down the hallway some more, and Jeff Hardy and his brother Matt had approached you, their eyes staring at your chest.

A few teenage girls in the audience got out of their seats and shrieked when they saw the Hardy Boyz, who had gotten a makeover and were up and coming wrestling stars.

"I know it's not polite to stare" Jeff Hardy said "But damn..."

They both were smiling while looking at your chest, and you stopped walking so they can stare at your tits.

You were staring more at Jeff and smiling at him, he's the hot Hardy Boy in your opinion.

Jeff raised his hands towards his ribcage while his fingers motioned like he wanted to squeeze your breasts.

Just as you were showing off your chest at the Hardy Boyz, you rotated your body towards the left only to find the New Age Outlaws were behind you; Billy Gunn and Road Dogg.

The audience got out of their seats and cheered when they saw that they were right next to you.

You looked a little surprised when they were right next to you, but whatever.

Billy and Road Dogg were grinning whilst their eyes were staring at your chest.

Billy's hair was hanging down, not tied back in a ponytail or having little braids.

"I'd love to do those puppies D-O-double G style" Road Dogg stated whilst his eyes were staring at your breasts, and what he said got the males in the audience out of their seats cheering for him.

"I might be an Ass Man" Billy said, grinning from ear to ear "But even I can't resist some nice puppies"

"Me too!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed on commentary, not being shown on screen.

Your eyes were staring into Billy's whilst you smiled at him.

"Y'know I like you, Billy" you said, leaning your body against his and your voice trying to sound sexy. "But as for you, ehhhh..."

Your head turned and looked at Road Dogg when you were unsure of what to think of him, your face looking disgusted when you said "ehhhh...", much to Road Dogg's dismay.

"What?!" Road Dogg asked, his face looking puzzled and slightly upset.

You then walked away from them both and continued strutting through the hallway, your tits bouncing up and down while you strolled through the hallway.

Al Snow approached you from your right side, where even he couldn't help but get a glimpse at your tits.

The audience got out of their seats and cheered for him once they saw him.

His eyes were glued at your cleavage and he grinned from ear to ear looking at your chest.

Like the Bella Twins said, he can look, but he can't touch.

He followed you and tried keeping up with you, staring at your bouncing chest.

You continued walking down that hallway, your heels clicking on the slick, hard floor.

From the left, Shawn Michaels had walked up to you, and you were really happy seeing him come up to you.

Women and even a few teenage girls got out of their seats and cheered when they saw Shawn appear on screen.

Shawn's eyes were staring at your cleavage, he grinned and smiled while looking at your breasts.

You stopped walking to have Shawn observe your breasts, you smiled whilst he thirsted over your tits.

You lifted one of your hands and your fingers poked through his hair, your fingers playing and stroking his hair.

You slightly leaned your body to Shawn's torso and pressed your tits onto his chest, your voice sounding sexy and seductive.

You were inviting him if he wants to come, in more ways than one, to your locker room when the show's over.

Shawn couldn't help but stare at your breasts, but you were reminding him to look up at your face.

Of course Shawn wants to come with you, in more ways than one!

It seems like when you walk down the hallway, every man runs up to you and wants to look at your chest.

After spending some time with Shawn, you walked down the hallway some more, and Stevie Richards, yeah, that Stevie Richards from ECW and (for a little while) WCW rushed up to you and looked at your chest.

You don't mind Stevie looking at your tits, he is a cutie pie (though you don't mind if Al Snow stares at your chest as well, even if he didn't look at that good with that handlebar moustache).

Stevie was trying to keep up walking behind you, he followed you from behind while his eyes were glued to your chest and his mouth smiling.

Davey Boy Smith was leaning his back against the wall as you strolled past him, and even he had to walk up to you and stare at your chest.

You stopped walking once Davey approached you, letting him take a peek at your cleavage.

Stevie stopped walking behind you when you stopped walking, where you let these two men get a glimpse of your chest.

"Y'know, I respect you as a woman" Davey stated "But..."

He's pretty much at a loss for words at your chest.

Davey Boy Smith nearly could mention how his nickname is the British Bulldog and how he wants to do your puppies doggystyle, but Road Dogg already mentioned that.

Davey's eyes were gazing at your ample cleavage, he was smiling looking at your chest, whereas you were swaying your body back and forth whilst smiling at him.

You also turned your body towards Stevie Richards for him to have a peek at your chest, your lips grinning from ear to ear at him.

Once you felt like you had enough of Davey and Stevie looking at you, you turned your body to a swerve and walked past Kane who was leaning his back on the wall.

As you walked past Kane, even Kane's head turned to look at you as you strolled past him, though you couldn't see if he was smiling at your chest or not.

Test (yeah, the same Test that married Stephanie McMahon and had a relationship with Stacy Keibler) would stare at your tits, though he's about to get married to Stephanie McMahon.

Though, damn, there's a wrestling storyline: Test is secretly cheating on Stephanie McMahon with you!

Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

#wwf #attitude era #val venis #christian #davey boy smith #new age outlaws #hardy boyz #wwf attitude #fanfiction #1999 #90s

4 notes · View notes

cynthiadshaw · 5 years

Text

What’s the Most Important Lesson You’ve Learned Along Your Journey?

Every twist in our story, challenge we face, and obstacle we overcome is an important part of our story. These difficulties make us stronger and wiser and prepare us for what’s ahead. As we grow and succeed we may imagine that soon the challenges will fade away, but in our conversations with business owners, artists, creatives, academics, and others we have learned that the most common experience is that challenges never go away – instead they get more complex as we grow and succeed. Our ability to to thrive therefore depends heavily on our ability to learn from our experiences and so we are asking some of the city’s best and brightest: What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned along your journey?

Rocio Zapata | Home Baker & Cake Decorator

@cakesdenise

The most important thing I’ve learned is to have a clean working area and be kind and respectful with clients. One more thing would be to always give good quality, presentation, and lastly good flavor for the product. In this business of pastries we never stop learning, we will always learn new things to improve.

@cakesdenise

Kristen Vollinger | Believer in the strength of a new day and its noms

First things first, I must state anyone who says, “I forgot to eat today”, absolutely makes zero sense to me. Not sure if I am envious of their free thinking and lack of time spent planning their next meal or if these are just deeply sad souls. ha. joke. Okay. So What is the most important lesson you’ve learned in your journey so far? I believe it is key to stay true to your WHY (why are you doing this?) and asking yourself this question often. To help reach your why and stay focused, I try to surround myself with what I want to see more of in the world, especially on social media. When posting my own content, I want to be excited about it and not have it based in a belief of what is expected of me as a food blogger. I believe the message in return is more genuine and interesting. If I start posting what I believe others want to see, then I’m not being true to myself and my passion. I will not be favored by all, yet I wont have lost sight of the reason why I started this journey. We will never live this exact day again, so let’s celebrate it with some delightful tastes.

@DallasNewGirl

Christy Zuehl | Owner | Life Coach | Chief Designer @ EDIT Learning & Design, LLC

janazerpoliphotography.com/branding-photography

At EDIT Learning & Design, LLC. I provide life coaching, course design and training facilitation services. This business evolved from my passion for learning design, and mentoring others. It takes time to build a business and create a client base. When you are building a business and planning for how it will be structured, you need to factor in time to get the business off the ground and build your reputation. Hard work, dedication, and flexibility are important factors in getting started. Having a clear brand and product is also important. People have to understand the services you are offering and how you can help them to be more productive and achieve their goals.

editlearningdesign.com @EDITLearningDesign linkedin.com/company/editlearningdesign @editlearningdesign pinterest.com/EDITLearningDesign

Kymberly Smith | Dallas Blogger

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my journey so far is to be resilient and always be motivated. I have not always been able to bounce back from rejection in reference to wanting to start my own blog. This is something that I’ve wanted to do since I was in the military. It wasn’t until I joined the military that words like resilience, motivation and determination became part of my daily life. Because of that, any time someone said I couldn’t do something, it made me push myself more, it made me work harder because I wanted to succeed.

bonbh.com @bonbh_blog

Clara Warner | twenty-something lifestyle blogger | graphic designer + integrated marketing specialist

The most important lesson I’ve learned so far is to grant yourself some grace. I think we all expect a lot from ourselves these days no matter what profession we are in or how old we are – we all feel such a determination to be perfect and successful in everything we do. But things don’t always go as planned; you don’t always get everything right on the first try. Instead of being so hard on yourself and expecting perfection at every turn, grant yourself some grace – relish every mess up, embrace your “failures”, take time to process your emotions. The most successful people are often the ones who failed a lot during their own journey and they recognize that “success in a day” is (in most cases) unattainable. Every goal takes time to achieve and it won’t always be sunshine and daisies, so celebrate the good days and the bad. And most importantly, never invalidate your feelings of failure, but rather grant yourself the grace to feel that way and then rally. My all-time favorite quote is, “live imperfectly with great delight” and I think that exquisitely encompass this whole idea; take delight in your imperfections and allow yourself the grace to grow in your own way and at your own pace.

xoxoclara.com @_xoxo_clara_/ @xoxo-Clara pinterest.com/xoxo_clara

Eve ksabi | fashion, fitness and life style blogger

I have learned it all about pursuing your dreams and your ambition. It about your vision, your personal style and the ability inspire other while staying true to yourself. You must Embark on your journey with a clear goal of how to turn your dream to reality. I started my fashion and fitness blog in an attempt to inspire and motivate women to love themselves from the inside out. It was not an easy journey and there were lots of bumps along the way! One thing I’ve learned during my journey is that success can happen if you truly believe in your passion, if you are consistent, and if you are pursuing your passion from your heart. My journey through the blogging world has taught me that inspiring people can cross any barrier of race, religion, or age. People love to be inspired by others and we are all connected.

thestyleandfitness.com fitwitheve.net @Thestyleandfitness @Lksabi @aviaksabi pinterest.com/avivit10

Vanessa Fields AKA 1/2 of the ATXFoodChronicles team | Communications Coordinator for TTIA

@ATXFoodChronicles

The most important lesson we have learned from starting our Instagram account is to not compare our accounts successes to anyone else. While everyone is hustling and doing their own thing, it is easy to go down a rabbit hole of comparing your photo quality, amount of likes, event invites etc. to theirs but we have quickly learned that this will get you no where. Our motto is, have fun, focus on your own journey but always remember to support one another. Community over competition is key!

@atxfoodchronicles

Cori Aston | Makeup Artistry (Editorial, Avant-Garde, Fashion, Commercial. Beauty, Private Clients)

Makeup: Cori Aston Photo: Stevie Reid Model: Delaney Martinez

In this world of creatives, (Makeup, Hair, Photography, etc.) and with each diverse genre…creating and embracing our community is such a VITAL facet for growth, opportunities, new experiences and challenges. My advice to any artist, no matter the medium, embrace their fellow artist in all fields. Because we are all the individual threads in this intricate weave that is our profession – creating ART. There is only one of you…always stay true to your vision.

CoriAston.net @coriaston39 @coriastonmakeupartistry

Candace Hughes | Co Owner of Dérive Media

Focus on what is important to you. We often spend so much time stressing over the small stuff and forget about the simple blessings that surround us everyday. Everything happens for a reason, truly and sometimes it doesn’t make sense, but trust in God always. Every time that I’ve felt rejected and disappointed, there has always been something better in store! A positive attitude changes your whole mindset in addition to encouraging the people around you! Life is a continuous learning experience and hard work pays off. Have an open mind, live your life to the fullest, pursue your dreams and goals! The job that you are passionate about is not random, it’s your calling! Most importantly fill your days with experiences, not material things.

@candacemhughes derivemedia.com @derivemediaco

Dawn Treader | a nonprofit who is raising awareness to defend and protect the rights of widows and orphans through the exploration of local artist, live music, and some dang good coffee

Mikaylah McGee

The most important lesson we’ve learned is, the process is more important than the prize. The process itself is the prize. Providing for orphans and widows is our oxygen, its our DNA. We don’t build homes for orphans and widows over night. It takes time. Our dream is to change lives all over the world but that begins with taking advantage of every hour and disciplining ourselves to be competitive for the helpless over time. We live for the PROCESS.

dawntreadertx.com @dawntreadertx @dawntreadertx

Ria Hartfield and my business is Locs By Ria

The most important lesson I learned so far was to believe in myself because and not sell myself short. I’m a self-taught stylist so I was very insecure about my work. I wasn’t 100% sure if I was even doing it right but my clients would be extremely satisfied with the results. Some of my clients won’t even go to other stylists. It took a long time for me to recognize my worth as a loctician and to realize that I really am talented.

@locsbyria

Loviatar’s | Vintage Event Rentals & Interior Curation

Photo Credit: @laurenapelphoto HMU: @sydneyannlopezhair

A valuable trait we have had to channel is patience. As designers that deal in predominantly vintage goods, we are always on the hunt for unique and eclectic items. Often times it would be easier to pick up a missing piece at a conventional retailer but we know that the end result is that much more rewarding if we put in the extra time to hunt down the perfect piece. We are finding that people truly do appreciate the little details and the story that is attached to each object, making our efforts worthwhile!

loviatars.com @loviatars

Letty Stewart | Lash Artist & Esthetician

In my journey I have experienced so many things. It hasn’t been easy but with the help of my family I have finally found my dream job which is a Lash Artist at Peachy Keen Studio and I am so happy to be where I am at now. My obstacles in life have been tough from dropping out of high school to abusive relationships but I have managed to find the light at the end of the tunnel. My biggest accomplishments have been thanks to my husband. He’s inspired me to be who I am today. I know that my children will be inspired as well to be better and create a world full of joy and love.

linktr.ee/letty.peachykeenstudio

Joshua Harris | Professional athlete | Fitness consultant

Lynne Jones

The harder you work, the less you worry. When your work ethic is at a high level, that eliminates any doubt you may experience because you know how hard you’re working and that gives you an unwavering amount of confidence.

thepeakwork.com

Kiesha Hick | Entrepreneur, Eye Candi Bar

@thelavishluxe

The important lesson I have learned on my journey so far is, self importance, self development and patience, while coming out of my comfort zone, to do what I was called to do, empowering women, and giving them the confidence to look and feel beautiful!

@eyecandibar @eyecandibar

TK Kader | Author of the international best seller “How to Punch the Sunday Jitters in the Face”, Entrepreneur and Angel Investor

You can accomplish anything you want in life and become unstoppable as long as you practice belief x discipline.

@tkkader

Alexandra Goodman | designer

You are going to have some negative experiences. It could be as simple as someone not liking your work or being denied an application to participate in a local art show. You cannot let those experiences define you. Do not let them become setbacks. Keep pushing forward. Focus on the praise you receive from clients and their genuine appreciation for your creations.

etsy.com/shop/agoodmandesigner @agoodmandesigner

Acenette Gonzalez and Justin Ramirez | Owners of Maravilla Cacao Confections

A valuable lesson I’ve learned on my journey is collaboration is a key to success. I say this because collaborating with others brings inspiration from places you never thought to seek it from. It has allowed me to to create with others on different artistic platforms and see different points of views. All while helping that other independent business as well. The great thing about being a small business owner is the support from other small business owners. We all want to see each other succeed and that’s a beautiful thing to me.

@maravillacacao [email protected]

Elena Jones | Mom | Wife | Entrepreneur

@katiemeckleyphotography

Moving to a new country has been a great challenge. To start again, especially while tending to young children, was much more difficult than I imagined. Throughout this journey, I have learned that success, in its truest sense, doesn’t come with haste or ease, but to those who exercise the three P’s: passion, persistence, and patience. First, in order to accomplish anything noteworthy, you have to have an unyielding passion for your work with a single, noble goal in mind: an objective that goes beyond your own material success and that truly benefits your clients and the greater community. If you don’t believe in the product or service you’re selling, then you need to be selling something else. Second, I have learned that very little can be accomplished unless you are persistent in chasing your dream; this means waking up in the morning with a plan of micro-goals to accomplish for the day and repeating that routine until you see results. Every day is an obstacle course that must be navigated with focus and tenacity. It also means adapting strategies that are not working, yet keeping your overall mission in mind. Finally, I have learned that nothing meaningful can be achieved without patience and that an enduring success can only be accomplished over time. The old saying, “good things come to those who wait,” may be dismissed nowadays, but it rings true in my life. The setbacks we experience—the lost sale, the incomplete checklist, the long-term client who decided to go elsewhere—are opportunities to better learn our business and grow in virtue. There is no such thing as failure as long as we continue to see the big picture and keep moving in the right direction.

@latinamomintheheartoftexas @latinamomintexas

Magnolia Elvis | music producer & recording engineer

@Dj_ron_t

You have to always be prepared to work; even on your off days.

VibeLabDallas.com ShoutOutMagnolia.com

Addie Roberts | Registered Dietitian and Nutrition Coach

The most important lesson I’ve learned is that people don’t thrive under more rules around what NOT to do with food. Instead, I’ve found that lasting change is made and people are able to flourish and achieve their goals when the coaching message is promoted as food freedom without obsession around what they’re eating.

generalwellnessnutrition.com @generalwellness youtube.com/generalwellness

Kelly Harrod | Body Liberation/Self Love Advocate

The most important thing I’ve learned on my journey so far is the importance of flexibility. So many times we plan with good intentions as society tells us that those who fail to plan, plan to fail. Some times life does it’s own thing, causing out beautifully crafted plans to fall by the wayside. Learning to be flexible has allowed me to be more forgiving of myself and others when things don’t go as I had hoped.

@the_self_love_squad @selflovesquadig

ChristFit Unashamed

Community is so important to growth of person physically, mentally, and Faith.

linktr.ee/christfitunashamed

Ashton Lewis | Actor

Patience and persistence. If you’re working hard at what you want, don’t beat yourself up for, one, sucking at it when you first start. I’m a recovering perfectionist, so this is a hard one for me. And that’s an ego thing, right? If I’m focusing on how much I suck, that’s entirely about what other people think of my progress. But what other people think doesn’t matter: if I’m thinking about that I’m just torpedoing my own joy. Second, don’t beat yourself up for taking a bit to figure something out. Sometimes it just takes longer than other people. But what I’ve learned on my journey is that if you’re patient, and keep at those skills you’re trying to hone, they often open up and start blooming over time. It’s difficult to see in the moment but you look back and see what the journey was and how important it was to take the long path and struggle through it.

@actionlewis backstage.com/u/ashton-lewis

Tre’Quwandous Love | Aspiring model Natural Hair Enthusiast and Hospitality expert

@shotbyadrw [email protected]

You have to move in life knowing that the things you are seeking are also seeking you and will find you in the most divine fashion.

@trelovetrelove @TreCLove

Diana Pàez | social communicator and journalist | Founder and CEO of Let`s go By Diana Paez

My biggest lesson in this wonderful journey I have been gone through is to be patience and understand that good thing happens exactly at the moment have to happen,. sometimes we reject what we have and we don’t pay attention to the wonderful things around us. I have learned that every person in the world have a special place and labor to do while were living the life and enjoy every moment in the present can be the only thing that change our future. Every lesson will be a part of the process in our life and we need to take them as part of example to tell other people that fall off is not too bad when we can get up and be better. patience is part of the process to grow in every dream you want to make it real.

@letsgo.by.dianapaez letsgobydianapaez.com

Lizz Hurley | Visual Artist

The most important lesson I’ve learned so far is that sales don’t determine talent. Sales will come, focus on perfecting your craft.

lizzhurleyart.com @lizzhurleyart

Jacqueline | Empowerment Executive & Life Coach

My Starry Eyes My Intuition is My Superpower! You Never need to justify your existence. Say less than you know; show less than you have. What I practice in private I will be honored for in public. Leave All in a better space than before I arrive. Allow my potential to come out and play big on the planet. Permission Granted!

@jacquelineisms podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/permission-granted-the-jacqueline-show/id1475436982

Blakk Juu | Hot New Rap Artist from keepit1hundredint

That if you don’t believe in yourself, then no one will so I think in myself beyond boundaries of measurements, I also learned you need active, positive people backing you up so much love to my label keepit1hundredint #usagainsthem.

@blakk.juu @usagainsthem @blakkjuu keepit1hundredint.com @BlakkJuu soundcloud.com/keepit1hundredint

Brittany Smalls | personal blogger

@filmmaker_j

I think the most important thing I have learned is that you should always stay true to yourself. People (myself included) put so much effort into trying to conform to society’s expectations, we often lose ourselves. For so long I was scared to put myself out there and go for everything I wanted because I would look at someone else and point out all of the things they have, that I don’t and I never stopped to acknowledge all of the qualities I have. Once I realized that I am not unworthy because I lack certain qualities someone else may have, my life changed and I gained so much confidence. I have never been happier. it’s made a huge difference in how I view myself, in my marriage and in my life all together. What makes you different, makes you beautiful.

@_sincerelynotyours

Maria Cruz | Paper florista

@kittyboo_

There are many things that I have learned and still learning, in a world we’re everything is “help me and I will help you” you kind of fall into a pattern of let me see how much I can get out of the situation. I have other colleagues that do the same thing and they always advise me pick your prices higher don’t sell yourself short, its never enough it’s always to low! They tell me. I learned that when you start doing something you love and greed gets in the way, it’s stops being something you love it becomes WORK and the reason I started my own small business was precisely because I did not want to work a job that made me feel prisoner of my life. And when greed comes into play that’s exactly what happens you become prisoner of money of greed and everything that involves. Don’t get me wrong of course i want to make money. I am a mother of four and I need to bring the bacon but being honest. Now three years in this business I have learned how to price, how to help my customers and be smart about my business. I can say we never stop learning EVER but with the right mentors around and a little patience I have learned a lot.

@katys_flower_wall

Mosiah Perales | Goalkeeper | Goalkeeper coach and Instagram influencer

Over little a year of my Instagram account (I made my account on May 24, 2018), is that if you want to get yourself out there on social media, you need to know what you want and the goal of why you are putting yourself out their, but when it comes to interactions with your followers and people who view your content, open your mind for other people’s comments and opinions even if they are negative. I’m doing what I love and making my passion more than a dream. If you want something, make time for it and be dedicated, don’t be afraid of failure, I’ve learned so much from failing. I was scared to put myself out there and what people would say but I didn’t let that distract from what I wanted. I want to influence people in a good way as well as get noticed and hopefully become a pro soccer player.

@fuerzagkeeping

Justin Stringfellow | DJ/MC

The most important lesson that I’ve learned in my journey so far is that there is always room for improvement in your craft. Like many artistic pursuits, the DJ field is very saturated. In order to stand out, you have to work really hard and constantly be improving. It’s also super helpful to have others to look up to and learn from. The journey of growth is just as important as the destination.

@justin.thedj mixcloud.com/JustinTheDJ

Astrid Garces | Branding Creator

Josben Rodriguez

Life is happening now and I have to be present to live it. not holding to anything in the past and not worrying about the future. Also it’s too short not to do what I love and what I am really passionate about.

@astrid_garces

Zach Rigsby | Fashion blogger & Design student

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my life is to never let anyone else’s judgment or negativity drive what I do or wear but instead to let criticism inspire me to become better.

@zach.rigsby

Bondie Metchore | Digital Marketing Consultant | Web Designer & Social Media Strategist

In life, the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that change is inevitable. Things end, pain eventually goes away and there’s always a new goal to go after. Enjoying the actual journey is a blessing that we tend to overlook. Living life from a place of knowing that nothing is forever has helped me stress less during the difficult times and value more the beautiful moments that life offers.

In Business, I have learned that gaining a loyal client is more important than making a quick buck. People like to feel valued and heard and when you lead your business with love and service, clients always come back.

bondiemetchore.com @girldesigningdreams

Jonah Levine | Co-founder & Designer

The most important lesson I’ve learned is perseverance. The idea or the accumulation of ideas has in time been a bit of a struggle, but we put our heads down and figure out what needs to be done.

I’m very happy and proud of the brand that’s been created and we will continue. It’s a product for a niche market and we recognize that. Perseverance will get us through. Perseverance is what has gotten many things done in fashion and in life.

At L’Escalier we hope to bring the idea, the thought that while things may be difficult, perseverance can prove to be true.

shoplescalier.com @shoplescalier

Kyler & Kaelyn Silas (Ky & Kae) | Recording Artists/Musicians

When we were little, we were eager to be teenagers/young adults. Now we’re in middle and high school, and we just want time to slow down. We can’t believe in a few years, one of us will be off to college. Life is too short to just dream about what you want to do and not put anything into action. You have to always put your best foot forward and commit to whatever dream you want to come true.

@officialkyandkae youtube.com/channel/UCITNM6MLuu2CODIHATCuvQA bequestmusic.com

Zeke Jeremiah | Director, CEO/Founder of UTubeSensations and UTubeSensations Kids

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my journey is to trust the process. In the beginning I would get stressed out easily because of so many things that would come up. Now I’m better prepared from experience, but mostly easy about it because things won’t always work out the way you wanted it too, so I relax and trust God through the process.

@campbell.zeke @UTubesensations @UTubeSensations-Kids @Forever-and-a-Day @zekejeremiah @utubesensations @utubesensations_kids

Trish Keller | Virtual Health & Fitness coach

The most important thing I’ve learned on my journey so far is how important the power of a positive attitude is. I started my journey in a pretty dark state, struggling with body image issues, unhappiness, feeling overwhelmed, and just feeling really stuck in life in general. Through coaching I learned to look at things in a more positive light, I started to look at myself through a more positive lens. Even on my harder days, when I’m struggling with competency issues or negative people, I’ve found a way to look at the lessons and the positivity in those less than ideal situations. And by doing that, I have gained self-confidence, self-worth, healthier habits, happiness, amazing friendships, and the incredible opportunity to help others find similar happiness for themselves.

@trish_keller linktr.ee/patriciakeller

The post What’s the Most Important Lesson You’ve Learned Along Your Journey? appeared first on Voyage Dallas Magazine | Dallas City Guide.

source http://voyagedallas.com/2019/08/26/whats-important-lesson-youve-learned-along-journey/

0 notes

iamnotthedog · 6 years

Text

CHICAGO: NOVEMBER 20, 2012

I found a children’s book the other day. It was in a large leather trunk full of dusty old records and CDs being sold for a quarter a piece. The trunk had me contemplating currency inflation—having one of my now-daily panic attacks about the passage of time, and freaking out about how nothing costs a quarter anymore. I mean, you can get a nut or bolt at a hardware store, I guess. Pretty much nothing else. But at this random surplus shop on the north side—with its hip, just-dirty-enough twenty-something owners, its scratchy old albums playing through vintage Radiola speakers from the 1920s, and its entire kitchen furnished with 1960s appliances, dishware, and utensils—you can also choose from hundreds of subpar-to-terrible albums: The Spice Girls’ Forever, Billy Idol’s Cyberpunk, Dylan and the Dead, Billy Ray Cyrus’ Some Gave All, David Bowie’s Never Let Me Down, Christmas in the Stars: the Star Wars Christmas Album, The Rolling Stones’ Dirty Work, Milli Vanilli’s All or Nothing, Stevie Wonder’s Woman in Red, Limp Bizkit’s Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water, Mariah Carey’s Glitter.

The children’s book was nestled between Oasis’s Standing on the Shoulders of Giants and Alanis Morissette’s Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. It was about ten inches tall and a foot wide, and it was thin—maybe thirty pages with a cardboard cover. The picture on the cover was a full-color drawing of an old dog sitting on a sidewalk in front of some evergreen bushes. He was some kind of adorable slate-colored Catahoula Leopard Dog mix with floppy ears, huge, icy blue eyes, and a long, skinny snout, and he was sitting facing forward, with his head tilted to the left and his ears cocked as if someone had just asked him, “Do you want a treat?” in that voice that dog owners use when trying to get a rise out of their precious little beasts. In an arch of yellow bubble letters over the dog’s head, the cover read, So Long, Buddy.

I stood there over that trunk of records, in the far corner of the back room of the store, under a big velvet painting of Abe Lincoln and some Mahogany-mounted deer antlers, and I read So Long, Buddy. The story goes something like this:

Buddy is a fourteen year-old dog who has been a part of the Smith family since he was a pup. The Smith family also has a boy named Charlie—a short and skinny six year-old with a mop of blonde hair and cheeks so rosy that it looks like he spends his mornings digging around in Mom’s makeup cabinet. Charlie has always known an existence with Buddy at his side. He knows nothing else. When the story begins, it is a blue Sunday morning at the scrambled egg-laden breakfast table, and Charlie has just been told by his obviously intelligent parents (who look like caricatures of the parents in the Happy Days sitcom from the ‘70s) that Buddy is going to go away tomorrow, and he is never coming back. When Charlie cries and asks, “Why?!” the parents don’t hide from the truth, or make up any fairy tales about there being a dog heaven and all of that kind of bullshit antiquated talk that I’m frankly quite sick of. No, Charlie’s parents tell him that Buddy has a heart, just like all of them, and that Buddy’s heart isn’t working so well, and is going to stop soon. But then, before the thought even crosses Charlie’s mind, they also assure him that THEIR hearts are still working GREAT, and so is his. It will be a long time before any of them have to go away forever, they tell him. And they tell him that this is a day for them to celebrate Buddy. They have set aside the whole day to do nothing but play with Buddy—to do all of his favorite things. Then, that evening, they will all have to say goodbye.

Charlie gets really upset, of course. He runs up to his room and dives face down onto his blue race car bed, where he cries into his pillow. But then Buddy comes upstairs and lies down with Charlie, and Charlie snuggles with him and asks him why he has to leave. Buddy licks his face, and Charlie wipes away his tears and laughs. Then Buddy rolls over on his back, and Charlie rubs his belly. This calms Charlie down, and his mom comes upstairs and helps Charlie puts his jacket and boots on, because they are all leaving to take Buddy to the park.

In the backseat of the car, Charlie pets Buddy and lets him climb over him to stick his nose out the window and sniff at the rush of air in his face, as first the city then a flowery countryside roll by in the window. Charlie has a memory of himself as a much younger boy, riding in the same backseat with Buddy. Buddy pulled off his little baby boots and licked his feet. Charlie also remembers the time he fed a whole cheeseburger to Buddy in the backseat, and then his dad got mad and yelled at him, but then said, “Well, we can’t have a full dog and a hungry boy!” and took them back to the drive-thru to get another cheeseburger for Charlie.

The whole family goes to the park and plays fetch with a stick for a while, and then they go to a river and it seems a lot warmer all of a sudden—there’s lots of sun and people are in short sleeves. Charlie was wearing a coat and boots before, remember? But it doesn’t matter. The story and images are still tugging at the ol’ heartstrings with all they’ve got. Then—after hours of playing, which we realize have passed because of the red sun lying low on the horizon—Buddy lays down in the green grass, and he looks tired, and Charlie can tell that he’s not feeling to good, and Charlie leaves his parents and walks over to Buddy and lays down next to him and tells him that it’s okay. That he’s been a great dog. And that he can go away now if it’ll make him feel better.

A couple nights after I read that book, Jim and I had just played a show, after which we went out for some drinks with a few friends from Schubas.1 We were in a 4 o’clock bar over on Western, just north of Belmont.2 Jim was talking to some of our friends from Schubas, and the band we had played with—three guys from Cleveland—were entertaining themselves by flirting with some women down at the other end of the bar, trying to find themselves some nice warm beds to sleep in for the night. I was watching the boys do their thing, reminiscing about the days when I used to spend nearly every night doing the same, and talking to a co-worker about dogs. I was drunk and, despite all the action that night, I was feeling a bit sad, as most people in 4 o’clock bars are most of the time. My co-worker, Kirsten, was telling me about her latest foster dog that she had taken in from the pit bull rescue shelter she volunteered for.

“He’s amazing. He’s really smart and loyal and nice and well-behaved. Such a sweet boy. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” she said. She was smiling, but looked like she wanted to cry, anyway. She put her face in her hands. “Not only does he need a home, but I need him to find a home. Having three dogs has already pretty much eliminated my chances of ever getting laid again,” she said. “I can’t keep taking more.”

I put down my empty bottle of beer and ordered another. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “Why was he given up in the first place?”

She lifted her face from her hands and sipped her pint. “Nothing is wrong with him,” she said. “He was born at the shelter. My dog Anna is actually his littermate—his sister. She was the runt of the litter. She looks just like him, but she’s half his size, and gray instead of blonde. So when I adopted Anna, I also volunteered to take him for the first three months. Then we found a woman to adopt him who we thought was going to be great, but she ended up being a total bitch.”

A huge man in a cigar-scented flannel shirt moved in between us and loudly ordered a Corona and four shots of Patron. I waited for him to get the drinks, pay, squeeze a lime into his beer, dole out the shots to a few perfume-soaked girls in low-cut dresses, propose a toast, clink glasses, take the shot, return the shot glasses to the bar, apologize to Kirsten, try starting a conversation with the bartender, and finally retreat when the bartender pretended not to hear him.

When he moved and Kirsten finally reappeared, I asked her, “What’d she do?”

“Who?”

“The woman.”

“Oh.” Kirsten sipped her pint again. “Well, the first thing she did was lose him. She lost him for a whole week. Then the shelter helped her find him, and then she went to San Francisco and left him with a friend for weeks, and when she got back he had an ear infection. Then after THAT, she took him to the vet with a broken toe. The vet asked, ‘How’d he break his toe?’ And she said, ‘I don’t know, I wasn’t watching him.’”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So finally, when the woman called the shelter and said she wanted to move into a condo that didn’t allow dogs, the shelter was like, ‘Great! Please give him back!’ None of us wanted her to have him any more. We want him to go to a home that will actually pay attention to him and love him so he doesn’t turn into a trouble dog.”

I took another long pull from my beer and quickly ran through my income and monthly expenses in my head. “How old is he?” I asked.

Kirsten looked at me and smiled. “He’ll be a year old on December 10.”

And now I have a dog. He’s a sandy blonde American Staffordshire Terrier—fifty-seven pounds and twenty inches tall at the withers—with a white chest and throat, a pink belly, and white front paws up to the wrists. His entire body is solidly built, with a short, shiny coat and a well-defined musculature—he often reminds me of a horse in that you can literally see each muscle on his body, and his upper thighs and arms ripple like well-toned biceps when he gets worked up about something and starts pulling on his leash. His head is topped with floppy ears that pull backwards when he is excited, and it is broad at the skull—very broad—with a wrinkly forehead that makes it look like he’s always concerned about something. On either side of those wrinkles are large, bright eyes with copper-ringed, bluish-green irises. His round cheeks are each accented by one fluffy little bump with two long white whiskers coming from them. Between those big cheeks, his muzzle is about as long as a regular ol’ coffee cup is tall, and tipped with a pink nose that is always wet and cold. Two maybe three-inch long white whiskers hang down from his chin, giving him the air of Confucius (though I am possibly the only one that thinks this), and his huge mouth of evenly-spaced white teeth and pink everything else is always smiling when open, and locked in a tight, cute little frown under his floppy jowls when closed.

I named the dog Willie, which is a tribute to my uncle, who passed away back on May 28. Memorial Day. Uncle John was a Navy man—he had served as an electronic technician on two Western Pacific tours during the Vietnam War. He returned from the war to get married and have three handsome sons, then get divorced and spend the rest of his life working his ass off and drinking. A lot. Then he went and died alone in his apartment in Kenosha, Wisconsin, on Memorial Day. Jim and Adam and I were attending a Memorial Day barbecue, and we were stuffed full of barbecued brisket and potato salad and macaroni and cheese and beer and happiness when Mom called and told us that Uncle John died alone in his living room, sitting in his favorite chair, watching Comedy Central on television.

Uncle John was Mom’s younger brother—only 64 years old. He was a father of three, a brother of six, an uncle to many, a husband, a son. He was also an electrician, a gardener, a freelance frog hunter, a golf caddy, and even a butcher for a time. But more impressive than all of those things were his skills at the almighty karaoke. Uncle John was an unabashed Willie Nelson fan, through and through. He had the hair to prove it. He had a big gray beard and this long, grayish brown hair that he would part down the middle and weave into two thick braids, and he would tie a red bandana around his head and let the braids fall over his shoulders and over his flannel shirt down to his belly. He would dress up in that outfit and go to karaoke nights at the local pubs to sing Willie Nelson songs, and he did it so much that he actually got a bit of a reputation around town—enough of a reputation that he was invited to sing a Willie Nelson song on public access television. They played that video in the middle of the night all over southeastern Wisconsin. And now Uncle John lives on forever not only in his three handsome young sons, but also in a video on YouTube in which he sings an off-key version of “Blue Skies” into a microphone with a hilariously stern look on his face, and a video of strippers and kabuki dancers spliced with stock scenic footage playing behind him as he croons his big ol’ heart out.

So my new dog’s name is Willie, and I think of Uncle John and his sad, beautiful life any time Willie does anything. And Willie does a lot of things. Willie snores in his sleep. He grunts like an old man, and sighs heavily when he lies down. He stretches in the Downward Dog yoga position until his back cracks, which I tell him might give him back problems one day, but he doesn’t care. He always wants to cuddle—to be touched, even if that touching is just his back pressing against your leg. If Willie starts out the night sleeping spread out on the floor or on a couch in the living room, he will nevertheless end it sleeping curled up like a cat at the foot of your bed, usually with his head resting in the crook of your ankle or knee. In the morning when you first begin to stir, he’ll work his way up from the foot of the bed—crawling slowly on his belly until his whole body is up by your head, where he will proceed to lick your face and push at your shoulders and back with his big paws.

When you are finally up and walking around and Willie has eaten his bowl of salmon kibble and wants to go outside, he will trot up to you, looking up at your face with those big, sad eyes of his, and he will reach out his right leg and put his paw on your shin. If you are brewing coffee or looking at your computer or brushing your teeth or doing anything else that is distracting you from him, he’ll try this paw-on-the-shin technique several times before he abandons it and begins jumping up to put both his paws on your midsection, pushing at you with all of his fifty-seven pounds.

When you get Willie’s harness down from the coat rack, he will sit until you drape it over his head, then stand so you can easily clip it under his arms. And when you grab his leash, he will already be at the door, wagging his tail and moving around, and it may be difficult for you to clip the leash to the harness because the poor guy is so excited, and now he really needs to pee. Or poo. Or smell another dog’s pee or poo. Or just run and pull and get out that energy that has been pent up in him for the past several hours, as he laid around and huffed and whimpered and chased rabbits in his sleep.

On walks, Willie will pull you from smell to smell, occasionally stopping to look back up at you over his left shoulder just to make sure you are having as much fun as he is. If it is raining, he will stop every half block or so to shake off the wetness. If it is cold, he will stop every block or so to shake off the cold, after which he will lift each paw, one at a time, off of the frozen pavement. He likes the smell of pine. He likes stuffing his nose down into the wider cracks in the sidewalk and sniffing and huffing and making a lot of noise. He also likes the rat that was hit by a car in the alley, and has now been frozen and thawed and run over and thawed and frozen again so many times that it no longer looks like a rat, or anything, for that matter. It has become a part of the pavement.

If you tug upwards on his leash when approaching a puddle, Willie will jump over it as if he’s been doing that his whole life. If you don’t tug upwards on his leash, Willie will walk directly through the puddle, splashing through the mud, and he’ll maybe even stoop to smell it or try taking a drink before you pull him away.

Willie knows the street that takes you south, down across Belmont and over to the dog park, and if your walk takes you by that street, he’ll try to pull you that direction. He always wants to go to the dog park. Sometimes you’ll give in, and you’ll walk him there and walk across the baseball diamond and past the tennis courts and you’ll stand inside that tall black fence in the frozen gravel, and the steam from your breath will fog up your glasses under your hood while he runs circles around the trees with the other dogs and sometimes chases the tennis ball you throw. Willie will never bring the ball all the way back to where you stand, but will try to make you take a few steps to get it, and when you bend over and are just about to pick it up, he’ll snatch it up in his jaws and run away with it. He’ll do this until you punish him by ignoring him, when he will finally approach you as if to say, “Okay, okay. You win.” So you’ll pat him on the head and throw the disgusting, drool-soaked ball for him again, and if another dog gets to it before he does, he’ll growl a bit, but his wagging tail will show that he’s really just messing around, and then he’ll wait for the other dog to drop the ball, when he will snatch it up and chase the other dog around for a while before stopping to smell his or her crotch and maybe trying to mount him or her and tighten up his muscular little butt cheeks for a good ten seconds of humping before you and/or the other dog’s owner can get yourself over there—both of you laughing—to pull them apart. And he’ll do all of this—the running, the sniffing, the humping—with that tennis ball in his mouth.

When your fingers are tingling with the cold and your feet hurt and it is time to go so you get Willie’s leash ready, he’ll see what’s coming and immediately run over to the one bench in the park, which he will lay under. He knows when it’s time to go, and he never wants to go. And he’ll work that tennis ball in his mouth—he’ll get it deep down in his throat where it will get covered with a thick lather of white spit—and to get him to drop it you’ll try saying “Drop it!” a good twenty times before you finally have to resort to tricking him into thinking that you are going to throw another ball, then quickly putting both balls where he can’t get them, clipping the leash on him, and getting him out from under the bench and out of the fenced area quickly and efficiently before he even realizes what you’ve done or has time to react. You’ll say, “Good boy!” and he’ll look up at you and smile with his tongue hanging out the left side of his mouth, and he’ll wag his tail, but really you know that he’s still just thinking of that damned ball—that standard, optic yellow tennis ball, approximately 6.7 centimeters in diameter, rubber, covered in that distinctive fluffy fibrous felt and soaked in dog spit. He loves that damned ball.

I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t thinking of old Bronco Bill and his good ol’ dog Kojak when I decided to adopt Willie. I mean, I was obviously also thinking of So Long, Buddy, which I had just read a couple days previous, and I was thinking of my family’s first dog, Aggie, and of my Uncle John dying alone while watching Comedy Central in his living room, and of the fact that I’m about to be alone again most of the time. But sitting there in that dark 4 o’clock bar, coming down from the adrenaline rush of playing a raucous and meaningless rock show, feeling sort of low and being presented with the idea of a companion to ride with me through the next fourteen-to-sixteen years or so, I can definitely say that I saw Bronco Bill’s face shining in those dashboard lights back in June of 2001, and I could smell the weed in the Chevy Cavalier and feel the sunburn on my neck and ears and the dirt in my socks, feel the intense loneliness and dreamlike sense of un-being, and I could hear Bronco Bill slap the dashboard—BOOM—and hear him say those words:

“And now, whenever I get worried about my health, I just put my hand on Kojak’s big ol’ chest, and I feel his weird, irregular heartbeat—the long spaces, the heavy pounds, the quick pumps—and I look into his eyes—calm as ever—and I think, ‘Shit, he’s not worried about anything. I’ve got nothin’ to be afraid of.’”

Jim and I formed a two-piece garage rock band when I moved to Chicago a little more than six years ago. Playing in a band with my big brother—my big brother who brought that first acoustic guitar into my life, and who was the first person to introduce me to music other than pop radio—playing in a band with him was actually one of my main motivations for moving to Chicago in the first place. I had a couple dozen songs that I had written over the course of the previous several years out in California, where I had been playing them in coffee shops and in front of friends on an old acoustic guitar—just for kicks, really. When I first came to Chicago and was crashing at Jim’s, I played him a few of the songs at an open mike at the Innertown Pub one night and he liked what he heard, so he came up with the idea that we should get me on an electric, turn it up loud, and he’d lay down some drums and we could play a few shows. Maybe record an album or two. Be a band. It’s been several years now, and we’ve worked the band into our routines. We practice once a week, play a show once a month, and record an album once a year. It’s a good release, and we keep it fun and relaxed because we have no delusions of grandeur. We don’t see fame or fortune in either of our futures. We just enjoy playing together. It gets us in a room with each other on a regular basis, and that is a good thing, because we genuinely like each other. ↩︎

Most of Chicago’s bars close at 2 o’clock Sunday through Friday and 3 o’clock on Saturday, but several stay open until 4 o’clock Sunday through Friday (and 5 o’clock on Saturday). These bars usually get very little business until all the other bars call last call at around 1:30, when they fill with drunks who just want to get drunker, kids that are high and only want to get higher, and lonely types making a last ditch effort at finding a one night stand. No one enters a 4 o’clock bar devoid of desire. Ever. There’s no reason to. ↩︎

#thriftstores #surplus #compactdiscs #chidrensbooks #dogs #death #loss #adoption #pitbulls #uncles #willienelson #blueskies #karaoke #tennisballs #dogparks #rockshows

0 notes

misswsposts · 7 years

Text

I’m a woman and a musician

It was the mid-late 90s. I must have been about 13 when I read an article in one of those magazines - Kerrang! Smash Hits, NME, or whatever I was reading at the time (As a music obsessive I subscribed to them all) which has haunted me ever since. It was written by a female music journalist protesting that her views on music were never taken seriously by her male friends and co-workers. She wrote that her music tastes and recommendations were more often than not belittled and brushed aside by men, that her friends assumed her CD collection belonged to her boyfriend, that people inferred she only attended gigs because her boyfriend took her etc etc. I was shocked. I remember reading it about four times and thinking “This is nonsense. I’m a girl, I know more about music than most of the boys in my class, I buy more CDs than them, sneak out to more gigs than them, I play guitar with beefy distortion, my brother isn’t interested in music, I am. I know all the latest releases and I’m a girl. She’s talking rubbish!” I wanted her to be wrong. In fact I was certain she was wrong. The wiser, 32 year old me, however, looks back on that starry-eyed teenager, pats her on the head and says “You’ll see.”

But perhaps my realisation that men and women are treated differently in the world of music came a few years before that. I was about 11 or 12 and formed a band with my brother and sister on my parents landing. I remember my first guitar. My dad drove me to a wonky terraced house in the valleys - Tonypandy or Tonyrefail or somewhere like that - and we bought a black electric guitar and amp from a teenage boy that we’d spotted in the Free-Ads. I loved that six stringed beast and would practice for hours every single day playing Nirvana, Radiohead, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Green Day, Stereophonics and Manic Street Preachers songs. I was fuelled by testosterone-led Britpop, grunge and indie. I was also secretly saving every penny of my pocket money in a red plastic treasure chest for a Gibson SG Deluxe in Sunburst (which I never managed to buy). I was having guitar lessons in school and there were three of us in the class. Two boys and me, but we were equally as good as each other and treated the same by our teacher. We’d jam together outside school on weekends. We were equals and it never occurred to any of us that we weren’t. In our family band I turned up the distortion and shredded on my guitar, my brother bashed at his guitar and my sister knocked the shit out of the Lego bucket. We were a rock band! We all took off our tops, fastened ties around our heads and rocked out like Mick Jagger at the top of our stairs. I used the landing railings as jail bars and instantly became Freddie Mercury in the I Want To Break Free video. “When I grow up, this is what I’m going to do on stage in stadiums!” I screamed! My brother piped up. “No, you’ll have boobies then, so you can’t take your top off on stage, and anyway, girls can’t be rock stars, you’ll have to be a pop star.” His words felt like a whip cracking me. I burst into tears as I realised he was right. Grown-up rock stars aren’t women. None of my favourite bands had women in them. Female musicians are pop stars like Kylie Minogue, Madonna, Yazz, Eternal and the ABBA ladies. They don’t thump guitars over their crotches whilst waving their hair around in abandon. They sing. They dance around in their underwear and look sexy. I also noticed that they must be really good singers to be successful. Damon Albarn and Liam Gallagher couldn’t really sing as such, but it didn’t matter. Women have to sing in tune, and have a pretty voice. I didn’t want that. I wanted to scream. At the time I didn’t know about Joan Jett, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, Patti Smith and the like, they weren’t in my magazines. They weren’t on MTV2.

Then from nowhere, Skunk Anansie burst into my life and blew me away. Skin could sing alright, but she screamed too. Then came Cerys Matthews and Gwen Stefani, Bjork and Courtney Love, and some of them actually played instruments as well as sing. My faith was restored - in part. I was now into heavier music like Faith No More, Deftones and Tool. These female rock stars still weren’t heavy enough for my liking, but it was a start. Thanks ladies.

I was an “alternative” type of teenager. We called ourselves Moshers. We’d go to ska-punk and rock gigs, drink 20-20 and White Lightning in the grounds of Cardiff Castle and up in the valleys. We had a great mixed group of friends, boys and girls, posh kids and not. We were united by the heavy music we listened to, and the fact we were misunderstood by grown-ups. We were progressive. My friends, male and female, respected me as a music fan. We made mix-tapes for each other. We jammed together. We were equals. That journalist was wrong. When I was around 15 I remember my father dropping me off at a house party and saying, “Why do you have so many friends that are boys? I don’t get it. They’re all after something, you know? I know the male mentality. In my day you weren’t friends with girls. You were either fucking them or they were your sister.” That conversation had a profound effect on me. Another grown-up was telling me how it was. That boys and girls are different. From that day on I felt a change. I was more wary of men, of my friends. After all, my dad was always right. I still think of that now when I befriend men, although I don’t think he was correct. It’s always there in the back of my mind.

My first real negative experience with a man was at a gig. I remember going to see a ska-punk in Clwb Ifor Bach when I was around 16. My sister was also a fan of theirs, but as an 11 year old she’d have never been able to sneak in and pass for 18 like I had done. I promised her I’d get their autographs. After the gig I talked my way into the green room by telling the owner about my sister’s request. I met the band. They were one of my favourite bands at the time and heroes of mine and I was alone with them. I felt special and amazing. They offered me beer. I talked to them as a fellow musician, asking for tips on how to get onto the gig scene. They offered me more beer. Then one of the band asked if I’d go back to their hotel with them. I knew about groupies and had read articles about how bands invite girls back to their hotel rooms on tour for “romps” (as they were always described). I wasn’t interested in that. I was interested in their musicianship and that alone. I changed the subject back to music. More beer. They asked again. I suddenly didn’t feel safe and left the room and re-joined my friends downstairs giggling and telling them about what had happened. We thought it was funny, but I was acutely aware of the sinister situation I had just avoided. I was also hurt that they weren’t interested in me because of my fascination of music, but rather because I was a young pretty girl and they were men, in their 30s I will add. Maybe my dad was right, I was naive and should be more wary and less trusting of men. They were all after one thing right?

Then after a misunderstanding in the third week of Sixth Form, I left and went to college to study A-Levels. I had freedom from uniform and strict lesson regimes. Among my subjects I chose to study Music Technology. It took me almost a full term to realise that I was the only female in the class. I honestly didn’t notice until one day during a lecture I looked around me and realised that the others were all men. Boys and men. There was around nine of us in the class. My first reaction was that it was cool to be the only girl, then I began to wonder why there weren’t any others. This was 2000-2001. I don’t believe I was ever at a disadvantage for being a girl. I wasn’t discriminated against and I wasn’t overly-encouraged over the boys either. I was treated as a student equal to all those in the class. I was a good student. I recently read an article written by a fellow Welsh musician, Angharad Van Rijswijk in which she talks about the discrimination women face in the world of music technology education. She studied a few years after me and had a very different experience. It has made me wonder whether I was lucky to be in college at the time I was, or whether I was just lucky to be surrounded by encouraging tutors. Perhaps women got too complacent in later years and society regressed? I don’t know.

My university didn’t have a music, art or drama department, and as a result, there weren’t a lot of the traditional “creatives” floating around our campus. There were however, a handful of students who were music fanatics, and I managed to find and befriend them. I was heavily involved with the Students’ Union, organising open mics, bands and regularly DJing. I also formed and joined multiple bands while I was there with the few others who were musically orientated. This perhaps was the first time I really took note of the lack of women interested in playing music. My bandmates were always men. The other DJs were more often than not men. I wondered why, but I also enjoyed the position I was in, being a woman surrounded by men. They respected me for what I was doing and I felt special.

I wanted to work in television, or in the movies so I was reading Media Studies and Welsh. One of my courses was led by a female lecturer who had worked in the television industry for many years before retiring and becoming a lecturer. She would give me a lot of encouragement and guidance, yet warning me often that as a woman in the media industry I would face a number of challenges that men wouldn’t. I scoffed at her. A grown up is telling me yet again that I am not going to be treated equally to men. I was good at my subject and would get a first for every essay I wrote, every film I made and every television programme I worked on. It was easy. The men on my course respected me and I don’t believe I was made to feel inferior by any of them, but there was always a niggling underlying knowledge that in the real world, I would be seen as inferior. That’s what grown-ups have always tried to tell me.

In my final year I ran in the elections for the sabbatical role of Entertainments Officer. I was the only woman standing. I was often told that I was the underdog, but I fully believed I had a good chance of winning. The other candidates were male and interested in music, but it was me who had been seen putting in the leg-work over the past four years and bringing music to campus. I DJ’d every week and was voted the most popular DJ by the students. I organised and hosted great open-mic nights and parties. It took me aback when I was called the underdog. Why would they say that? It didn’t feel that way to me. The only reason I could think of was that I was female. I was angry but not discouraged. When the results were in, I had won the election and had more votes than all the other candidates collectively. It was a landslide. Fuck misogyny. I had proved that it didn’t matter that I was a woman and felt I’d proved that people voted based on my experience and skills over my sex.

After I had completed formal education, I concluded from my experiences that men and women were equal. I had been told all the way through by adults that we weren’t, but my own personal experiences and generation proved the contrary. I was ready to face the “real world” as a powerful, equal woman. That’s when I realised the adults were right.

I began work as a subtitler. My office was a mix of men and women. The women in one room and the men in the other. Serious. We used to joke that our room was better because we chatted, gossiped and had fun, while the other room were serious. This was right. That did happen, but it was also because our line-manager was in the other office. There were a few incidents that happened when we women felt discriminated against. Firstly, the company manager would always make little comments about “the silly girls” which kept us in our place. After I’d been there around three years a man began to work with us. I had studied subtitling at university and already had skills and qualifications, yet I know that his starting wage was higher than mine. Despite having no experience. But he was a man and older, so that was to be accepted. We grumbled about it but accepted that there was nothing we could do about the situation. Then he was slowly given more and more responsibility. Our line-manager knew this man was less capable than us women, but the general manager would ignore this and when our line-manager was away on holiday or paternity leave, he would place this man in charge. We were outraged, his work was inferior to ours, riddled with mistakes which we’d have to mop up and correct and he took a lot longer to complete each project. We would whinge and moan about this but accepted there was nothing we could do. I asked for a meeting with the finance manager about it. He assured me that this man was not earning more than us and hadn’t secretly been promoted to assistant line-manager, but I didn’t believe him. Even if it wasn’t true, we were still treated as inferior. Another stand-out time was when I was assigned a programme which was a little risqué. I was subtitling an erotic scene (remember this is S4C though, so still not very erotic!) where a man and a woman were getting a little jiggy. There was a little bit of nudity, but nothing shocking. The General Manager entered the office and saw my screen. He immediately bellowed “WHY ARE YOU WORKING ON THIS!? ONE OF THE MEN SHOULD BE DOING IT NOT YOU!” I was shocked and answered, “Why? I’m over 18, I’ve done all the things in this programme myself!” He didn’t answer and walked out in a huff. I was shaking with rage at his attitude. I’m a small, innocent woman and so should be protected from sexuality? What bollocks! I was seeing more and more that the grown-ups who’d advised my younger me were right.

Outside of work I was an active gigging musician, and I still am now. Most of the bands I’ve played in, and have played with have been percentage-wise more male than female, but having said that, I do work with a lot of female musicians and we often discuss our experiences in a world where we are always told that we aren’t equal. I don’t know how many times I’ve turned up to a sound check to be asked “Are you the singer?” or “Is your boyfriend in the band?” These questions come from both men and women. My stock answer is to point at my tits and ask “Are you asking me that because I’ve got these badboys?” They are often shocked to learn that I am a trumpet player. “Wow, a female trumpet player!” I’ve heard that statement more times than I can remember. Why is it so shocking that a woman would play a brass instrument? One man in Spain once said to me “So you play trumpet and do Tae Kwon Do? Do you do anything feminine other than have periods?” Why must every activity be seen as feminine or masculine? I play in a brass band which is about 50/50 male and female split and this is often commented on when we perform. “Wow, so many girls on sax!” Again, these comments come from both men and women.

Once we had a group outing to London to watch a riot-jazz band from New Orleans. The all-male band were on stage grinding about topless blasting their brass. There was a point in the show where they were pulling up pretty girls from the audience to dance on stage among them. I was chosen. I have seen bands do this so many times and I hate it. I had a plan. I climbed up onto the stage. The song they were playing was actually one that we cover in my band. I picked up one of the trumpets from its stand, approached the mic and blew. The band were shocked! One of the pretty dancing girls actually has talent! The whole arena cheered as I played a solo. I jumped off stage and one of my bandmates took my place, grabbing a baritone sax and doing the same. We felt powerful. It was a statement. Women aren’t just there to ogle. We can play too.

Another time we had a band outing to watch a similar band, again from New Orleans in Liverpool. At the end of the show they were giving away free signed posters at the merch stand. I told my friends I would catch up with them and legged it over to the table where the band were sitting and requested a poster. The sousaphone player, a huge man, was the person I spoke to. Instead of answering my question I was met with “Dang girl! What you doing tonight? Come back and party with us at our hotel room.” I politely declined and said I just wanted a poster. “C’mon baby, you’re teasing me now...” He continued. This went on for another few minutes and I was beginning to get angry. At this point, he put his hand under the table, up my skirt and groped me. He put his hand over my arse with his thumb cupping my vagina. I was shocked, jumped back and shouted “What the fuck are you doing!?” A local Liverpudlian man behind me saw the whole thing and told him off before checking I was OK. I was extremely upset and re-joined my friends. I told them what had happened, but they found it funny and told me to not be so sensitive. Instead of supporting me, they told me to just chill out about it. That night, I needed time alone and disappeared on my own to another pub in the dark streets of Liverpool to gather my thoughts. I was seething with anger about the assault I had just experienced and lack of empathy from my friends and bandmates. This band have played in Cardiff on a number of occasions and my band have been given the support slot. Each time this happens they accept “the honour” and I am once again crushed by the lack of support. I have spoken out to them on many occasions about my feelings on the matter, but they are brushed aside. There is a line in the play I’m currently touring, “You are always more important” and I feel that sums up how I feel about the others taking this gig. Their own issues and personal fulfilment are more important than my feelings. Our band leader once circulated an email to justify their decision on taking the gig, saying that a band with such a female presence as ours performing in a male orientated genre is sending out a strong statement to these men. I can see what point he is making, but I very much doubt the band in question are going to have their views on women challenged by us playing their inherently inferior support slot.

I am now dabbling with creating electronic music. I have always been interested in creating dance music since my music tech course in college, but now with the new age of apps and technology, and perhaps the fact I’m getting a little bored of the genres I’ve been playing for years and years, I’m moving in a new direction. I’ve started to make drum n bass and techno using my iPad and have performed at a few parties. I do get the impression though that I am being “humoured” by being given a few slots alongside the other proper men DJs. That could be paranoia, but I don’t think it is.

There are countless other anecdotes I could tell about my experiences as a woman, but I want to end here and reflect. I now see that the article I read as a child does have weight to it. That we aren’t seen as equal. But when does it start and who is perpetuating it? As a child and teenager I was on an equal playing field with men. It was only when my sex organs were fully developed and I was out in the real-world that I began to experience the affects of patriarchy. The adults around me, male and female, are part of the system, brushing off casual sexual assaults, being shocked at seeing a female blow a horn. Did we have a brief period of almost equality in the early 2000s under the regime of political correctness which has been subsequently crushed? I don’t know the answers. I do know that I am not discouraged and will continue to create and perform music for as long as the passion holds me, alongside men and women.

��Pm��

0 notes