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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐙-𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 — 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐏. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟔𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

“Did you know that I grew up on a farm?”

He isn’t paying you much mind right now. You can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake as his head lulls from side to side, his feet stroking the sheets monotonously. His eyelids are fluttering and his cheeks are flushed. Maybe he’s ignoring you--or maybe he’s just too high. Either way, his body is a mass of endless perspiration skin and hair and heat on the velvet sheets you’re lying on together.

It’s hot in here, hot enough for a pool of sweat to gather in the hollow of your throat. But you don’t feel like you can move, so you just stare up at the mirror mounted on the ceiling. You’re looking into your own eyes, those sad and big things, and trying to feel time moving past you.

You’re always trying to feel things that you just can’t.

“It was in Nebraska,” you continue, letting your eyes wander to the feathery tufts of your hair that cover the blood-red pillows under your head. You're letting it grow out--your daddy always liked it grown out; it makes you want to chop all of it off with kitchen scissors. “A chicken farm. Real gnarly work.”

He mumbles something incoherent. You don’t ask him to repeat himself.

“You want the skinny on chicken farms? They’re fucking dirty. Smells like shit and piss all the time. You can smell our farm a few miles down the road. Real bummer having boys pick me up on a mound of chicken shit,” you whisper. Now you let your eyes fall from your hair to your naked chest. Your nipples are pert and erect despite the lack of chill in the stuffy bedroom. Fuck, it smells like sex and sweat in here. But you prefer any scent over chicken shit--still, even now. “And chickens are stupid. I think that’s why we eat them--I think that’s why they taste so good. Why else would God make them so damn dumb?”

The record player in the corner is still playing A Fifth of Beethoven by Walter Murphy. It’s not very loud--you can still hear all the stragglers outside by the pool, probably opening another bottle of creme de menthe for another round of Green Hornets. There’s music playing outside, too, but you can’t tell what it is even when you strain--not over the sound of your heart thrumming in your ears. People are probably still in the pool, ashing their cigarettes in the crystal dishes your mama would’ve killed for. You imagine all the glittery bikinis strewn about the backyard, the big silver cowboy tubs full of cum and stray pubic hairs.

“I never felt bad about killing the chickens,” you whisper, shaking your head. You watch your lips form the words, watch the confession slip into the shadowed room. You don’t feel any different after saying it, admitting this thing that’s been a source of shame. “Do you know that nifty little phrase they have about chickens running around with their heads cut off? It’s true, really. I’ve seen it--no shit, I swear. You can say later days to a hen and swing the ax and it’ll run all around if you let it. I’m sure it would be confused if it had a brain still.”

He turns his face into the pillow, breathing in the sweat that drenches it.

You watch your belly rise and fall with every breath you take, let your fingers drag over the imprints of your ribs that press out against your skin now. There’s a valley there where there used to be a hill and you like to let your palm sit there: it makes you feel full even when you’re not.

“There was this chicken they called Miracle Mike--stellar name, I know--and in, like, the 40s or some shit, he got his head chopped off then lived for something like two years. Fucking far out. They let him live, didn’t try to kill him again. Took care of him. Dropped milk down his exposed throat and let him sleep with the other stupid chickens,” you whisper, pressing down on the hip bones that jut out of your body like rocks during low tide. “They even took him around the fucking United States on some gruesome tour.”

He seems to come to for a moment, turning his face away from the pillow and gulping air. You don’t turn towards him, but you know that he was suffocating silently beside you. But it doesn’t matter because he’s awake now, awake enough to reach out and grab your tit once he recovers slightly. His hand, that balmy and big thing, cups you as he pinches your nipple a few ineffective time. The pleasure is there, constant as ever, but it feels far away like it’s at one end of a tunnel and you’re at the other. Dull, maybe. It’s dull.

“What are you yammering about, Cherry?”

“Miracle Mike,” you tell him, still unable to take your eyes away from the mirror that reflects this girl lying in the bed. She looks a lot like you. “Anyway, he ended up choking on his own spit and dying in a motel because his owners forgot a dropper. Imagine surviving your head getting chopped off and living for two years and then you choke on your own spit because some space cadet forgot a dropper?”

He rolls your nipple between his fingers again and you finally give in to the shiver that tingles your spine. When he sees your back arch off the bed, when he sees that little flutter of your eyelids, he moves closer to you. He kisses and suckles at your throat, letting his half-hard cock press against your hip.

“What the Hell are you talking about chickens for?” He asks, shaking his head. His mustache is tickling the delicate skin of your collarbones, his mussed hair nudging your nose and chin as he kisses lower and lower. You can feel him growing harder against you, can feel the warmth spreading across his chest. “Chickens get your engines revving, baby? Hmm?”

“No,” you answer, biting your lip hard. “I don’t like chickens.”

He dips his hand between your legs--you’re wet. You think you’re always some degree of wet at this point. It’s like evolution; a survival tactic; adapting to your environment.

He scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, circling your clit a few times as he closes his lips around your nipple. You watch it all unfold in the mirror above you.

“You’re such a fucking fry, baby,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “My little Cherry, getting all wet talking about chickens with their heads cut off. Gnarly bitch.”

You moan when he plunges his fingers inside of you--three of them, you think. There’s just a bit of a burn as he stretches to fill you, only a tiny bit. But you’re wet enough to lubricate his fingers, wet enough to let your mouth fall open and moan for him.

Your ears are ringing.

“Fucking freak, aren’t you, baby?” He whispers, his lips hovering yours. His breath smells like the Aperol he drank, the cigarettes he chewed on, the doobie he smoked, the coke he snorted. You never knew coke had a scent until you started inhaling it, until it was sprinkled in every mustache you kissed, until it littered every glass table you encountered. It smells like flowers almost--smells better than chicken shit. “Say you’re a fucking freak, Cherry. Tell me how fucking weird you are.”

The tips of your fingers feel numb.

“Buzz off,” you try.

He bites down hard on your bottom lip--hard enough that you know you’re bleeding instantly. It’s the kind of pain that makes your teeth clash, the kind of pain that makes your nose feel fuzzy. Just as soon as he releases your bottom lip from the wrath of his teeth, he’s sucking on it. You can taste metal--can feel the warm blood sliding down your throat.

“Say it.”

“I’m a fucking freak,” you whisper to him.

A steady river of blood leaks from the corner of your mouth to the pillow beneath you, clumping your hair, drying it in a tangle. He’s gonna be in trouble when Dennis sees you tomorrow--you won’t give Dennis his name, though. You’ll say you got too high and fell asleep with your lip between your teeth. Dennis will believe you.

“Tell me I’m the man,” he mutters to you, suddenly and swiftly replacing his fingers with his cock. It makes you gasp out, makes your fingernails embed themselves in his skin. Your nail is broken off on the middle finger of your right hand--his fault, too. He’s rough, rougher than your producers like men to be with you off-camera. Even if he fucked you a little bit over an hour ago, his cock feels unfamiliar inside of you as he fills you up. It’s a skinny and long thing, akin to a pencil. Pencil-dick is what you want to call him. “Say it.”

He’s thrusting into you rapidly, his hips slamming into yours and his fingers wrapping around your thighs to hold you close to him. It feels good, at least--feels good to be jerked around a little bit.

You lick the blood off your lips.

“You’re the man,” you whisper, shaking your head softly. You keep staring up at the mirror above you. Your pupils are big right now--dilated entirely in the darkness of the room. All you can see is those black pools sitting in the middle of your irises, reflecting all that flesh tangling in your flesh, gleaming in the light of midnight. “You’re the fucking man, baby.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHO DO YOU THINK THE MAN IN THE PROLOGUE IS GOING TO BE?

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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thewolvesof1998 · 4 months

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Created by @mostlyinthemorning

Day 12 pt. 2

Okay, so I thought I would do something special for the last day, here is a list of all of my favourite fics from all of my mutuals (I've read like 95% of these and others are highly anticipated!) I'm going to have to do this in two parts!

The Powder Room Plotby tinygiantsam @watchyourbuck

“Let me eat you out,” Eddie whispered, his voice dark. He gripped Buck's sides harder, rocking his hips up. Buck whimpered, inhaling sharply. The force made him bend over the sink, pushing himself farther against Eddie’s cock. “Eddie,” he said, warningly. “Please, Buck, let me eat you out,” he insisted, smelling the back of his head with his eyes closed. “No one’ll notice.”

Cow Eyes by theotherlucifer @theotherbuckley

Buck gets the call on a Saturday. He’s sat at the kitchen table, delving into some strange corner of the internet where he’s apparently discovered that seahorses hold each others' tails when they swim and that cows have best friends and that Eddie’s big brown gorgeous eyes remind him of cow eyes and maybe if they were cows then they’d still be best friends— And then he gets the call. His phone starts ringing just as he’s learning about polar bears giving each other nose boops. He reaches out and grabs the phone off the counter, still so lost in his deep dive that he doesn’t even check the number that’s calling. “Hello?” “Is this Evan Buckley?” A professional-sounding woman answers. It’s then that Buck promptly forgets whatever facts he just learnt and instead feels a familiar ache creeping its way into his chest. “That’s, uh— that’s me,” he manages to get out. “You’re listed as Eddie Diaz’ emergency contact, is that right?” (Or the 'Eddie's in hospital and Buck tries not to break down' fic except its actually just a cute silly little fic)

[Music Embedded] Burning Bright by Mangacat, with (wilfriede0815) @mangacat201

"The 118" is a secret tip still in the punk rock scene, but their manager Bobby Nash is determined to give them their Big Break soon. Right now, they're playing gigs wherever they can get them and working on a first album - with Buck trying to overcome songwriting insecurities, Eddie there to help, Chim and Ravi eager to enable and Hen despairing at the task of corralling that whole chaos clowncar by herself. Meanwhile, Christopher is working to outfox them all (in the name of love, of course).

right in front of your eyesby rainbow_nerds @rainbow-nerdss

He and Chris, and Buck. They work, they’re a unit. Why should it matter that he’s single? Buck is watching him, like he’s reading every thought on his face. “You’re already planning to lie about the date. Why don’t you just tell her you met someone yourself?” Eddie shrugs and tilts his head to the side, squinting in thought. “She won’t set me up on dates if she thinks I’ve got someone,” he muses. “But she’ll want to meet whoever it is.” “So... Introduce them?” Or: Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

I got a bed but I’d rather be in ours tonight by LongConvolutedSimiles @nmcggg

He’s close, he can’t believe he’s close already, from rubbing up against the mattress like a teenager having a wet dream. He could say it’s because he hasn’t done this in so long, spending night after night with Eddie by his side means he hasn’t had much privacy. But really he’s close because everything is just so overwhelmingly Eddie that it feels like he’s here, it feels like he’s watching him. “Buck?” Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck. - Or Buck and Eddie have been sharing a bed for a couple of months now, but when Eddie is away on a date Buck decides to let off some steam. Eddie comes home early.

You don't know how much love it cost me to say goodbye by Feru_08 @pirrusstuff

It's día de muertos and Evan Buckley prepares to see Eddie once again

i'll keep you alive if you show me the way by rosebuddiekin @giddyupbuck

“I know you’re there. I believe in you.” Eddie knows he isn’t just talking to Buck anymore. He doesn’t care, though, not enough to stop himself from crying out to any higher power that might be out there. “I want to believe.” It’s the truth. Eddie wants to believe, because Buck does. “Just, not Buck. Okay?” He can feel the tears starting, but he can’t be bothered to let go of Buck’s hand to clear them. Or: Eddie pleads with the Universe to save Buck after the lightning strike.

i'll lie awake for you by diazbegins @evanbegins

Eddie’s brings his hand back up to squeeze Buck’s jaw affectionately, thumb prodding at the corner of his mouth with a glint of mischief and arousal in his eyes, “I think we already got pretty messy last night.” “Well, that was ‘cause we got married a week ago,” Buck makes up that excuse and kisses Eddie all sloppy, biting his pouty bottom lip and putting a bit more of his weight forward to try and get Eddie on his back. Eddie doesn’t let him, turning his head so their lips connect more comfortably on each kiss. “We had plenty of messy mornings at Big Bear,” Eddie says when they break away before surging back forward, a warm pit in his stomach getting more and more evident the longer they keep on kissing so sweetly. Buck rolls his eyes but lets a noise escape him when Eddie gives a sharp nip to his lip, big hand squeezing the meat of his thigh before resting on his hip with a firm grip, “We need messy mornings when we aren’t on a honeymoon.” Or: Buck and Eddie, newly-weds, spend their well-deserved time alone. (AKA buddie fucking for about 7.9k words)

I'm not afraid to change your name ('cause I'm crazy about you) by smilingbuckley @smilingbuckley

5 times Buck gets called by his new last name + 1 time he has another name change -- "Hmm," Eddie nuzzles his nose against Buck’s cheek, "God, I love you." Buck, whose eyes had closed at the feeling of Eddie being cute with him, opens his eyes. They turn wide. They hadn't said that yet. Not after they started dating. Before, sure, but they had been just best friends. "You do?" Buck asks, voice soft. Eddie takes a step back and turns Buck around so he can look at him, then he cups Buck’s face. "I am so hopelessly, painfully, endlessly in love with you, Evan Nash." Buck’s cheeks redden more, "I love you too."

pumpkin patch kinda love by browney3dgirl6 @hoodie-buck

“How much longer dad?” “I’m sure they’re almost ready. Why don’t you hang out with your friends until it’s time?” Christopher frowned. “Can you go ask dad, please?” Eddie would rather do anything else, thanks. But, when your kid was your world, and his big puppy dog eyes were looking up to you, well—he was only human. Eddie gave Chris’ shoulder a squeeze before looking around, spotting what looked to be a teacher. Well, they had a clipboard in their hands at least. Walking toward the teacher like person, Eddie stopped as he got closer, clearing his throat. “Um, excuse me, are you one of the teachers?” The teacher turned around to face him, Eddie suddenly a little short on words. “Oh yea, hi. I uh, I’m Mr. Buck.” Of course he was. —or— During the halloween season, Eddie is introduced to Christophers teacher, the one with pretty blue eyes that he just can’t seem to stop running into

you're where i stand, hearing the sea by Maira @carrierofthepaperclips

What could Eddie possibly say? Sorry I accidentally kissed you, my body followed my heart without my permission? Sorry that our first kiss was so absentminded, when it should’ve been filled with everything I have yet to find the words for? Sorry that I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, I can’t remember a time when I haven’t had to fight the urge, and I clearly lost that fight a minute ago? ... or the one with the accidental kiss.

Play me like a fiddle by JamesPearce911 @jamespearce9-1-1

Eddie plays the French Horn for the Los Angeles Philharmonic and is told about the wonderful new cello soloist playing with them for this concert. He sounds like a pretentious asshole and Eddie vows not to like him. In walks Evan Buckley, cellist from New York and soloist for this concert. Eddie quickly realises he's in trouble as the man immediately casts a spell on him, turning Eddie into a blushing mess. Can he put aside his feelings for Buck long enough to remain a professional and get through this week without making any poor decisions? (Spoiler Alert: he cannot)

Buck's Coma vs. Real World Checklist by marcato @jeeyuns

Buck: When I wake up, and I mean like every single time, I have this checklist now that I run in my head, like a way to test that I'm really here. Maddie: So, what do you check?

Out Of Order, Still In Line by callmenewbie @callmenewbie

“Alright. So, how do you wanna do this?” “I don't know, I didn't think that far.” Buck closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, which was a task harder than he expected. “I guess, just… talk to me.” “About what?” Oh, god. Fuck. Okay. They were in it now, so he might as well just… “Tell me what to do.” Buck half-expected Eddie to quip ‘you don't know how to jerk off?’ but instead there was a moment of pause, then: “Okay.” Or When Buck finally gets to the Clinic, the long awaited release doesn’t seem to come; cue Eddie to the rescue.

Say It All Out Loud by spacebabe17 @thosetwofirefighters

For a moment, he feels guilty about worrying—this is Tia Pepa, his favorite aunt, the one person who has always been on his side—but then he remembers what his parents—his father—had said when he’d tried having this conversation with them at nineteen. He knows Pepa and trusts her so much, but he’d trusted his parents too. or After his "date" with Vanessa, Eddie comes out to his aunt.

past the curses and cries (there's me and you) by MonsterRae1 @monsterrae1

“Welcome to Buckley’s magical apothecary,” The words died down on his throat as soon as he looked at who had walked through the doors. Eddie, Hen and Chim were walking towards the front desk; Hen and Chim were a couple of steps behind Eddie, staring at him with a worried expression, while Eddie looked completely tranquil, as he held on to a bracelet. On a surface level, Eddie looked like he did any other day, far too handsome in his uniform, with a small smile on his lips, and a teasing gleam on his eyes. But that wasn’t all, because all around him, Buck could see the lines of a curse taking hold of him. “What happened, what did you do?” Buck said instead of his usual greeting, walking to meet Eddie in the hallway, bumping his hip into his desk in the process, rattling the instruments he had left there. “What’s the curse?” Eddie rolled his eyes at him and said, “There isn’t one!” As Chim answered, “The bracelet is sending people to the hospital, near death experiences all of them” Or, Buck's a witch, Eddie's cursed, can I make it any more obvious?

Kiss Me Before it's Over (If Only for a Minute) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog @buddierights

Evan Buckley is living out his childhood dream as the star hitter for the Philadelphia Phillies. He’s climbing the ranks, improving his stats with every single game – he’s unstoppable. That is, until the Los Angeles Angels get a new pitcher seemingly out of nowhere. Known for his strong arm and tricky curve balls, Eddie Diaz is one of the few pitchers in the nation who consistently makes Buck strike out, and its infuriating. Even from the sixty feet that separate them between the batter’s box and the pitcher’s mound, the weight of Diaz’s gaze is enough to make Buck’s blood boil. Because Buck doesn’t get nervous on game day, he never feels calmer than when he steps up to the plate with the bat in his hand – it’s where he belongs. But when he sees Eddie Diaz standing on that mound, his stomach flips and nerves spark across his skin. Because if there is one thing Buck knows for sure, it is that he hates Eddie Diaz. … Until he doesn’t.

tagging: @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @buddierights @jamespearce9-1-1

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #fic recs #thewolvesof1998 fic recs #12 days of fandom joy #ao3

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blanketorghost · 1 year

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Welcome to Yuuposting pt. 3 this time... relationship charts! Side A is Yuu's perspective, Side B is other characters' perspective. Template can be found here!!

Some relationship highlights + doodles ahead (possible spoilers for Book 7!!)

1. Special

Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Ortho: Yuu, despite being a freshman in NRC, still is 18 years old and was a university student back on earth. This obviously means he's slightly more mature than his other peers and has kind of taken the role of pseudo big brother of the first years and has also unofficially made them Ramshackle dorm members. Each (aside from Ortho) even getting their own bedroom to hang out in whenever they need a break from their official dorms. To Yuu, it is a bit weird to have this newly found authority. He was a younger brother and even the youngest in his friend group for the longest time, so he feels a newly found sense of responsibility towards his weird, rambunctious set of children.

Grim: Yuu used to have a black cat named Kafka back home, so when he found out he'd be babysitting Grim on the daily, he thought it would be pretty similar to taking care of a pet. Of course, he was woefully wrong. At first, he found it extremely annoying to have to take care of what was essentially a superpowered toddler, but now he has become extremely protective of little Grim. Even awakening a 'maternal instinct' as he likes to call it. Yuu and the ramshackle ghosts are the only family Grim knows of, so his little mind considers Yuu, his primary caretaker, as some sort of parental figure.

Trein: Yuu is this lost, barely legal child that is being used by the headmaster to do his dirty work with the looming threat of being thrown out if he does not succeed. As a self-respecting teacher who cares about his students, Trein couldn't just ignore the poor kid! Of course he cannot play favorites with his students while in class, but he still worries. Trein is also very displeased with Yuu cheesing it through his classes, and after learning he could even be a straight A student with a little more motivation, he does not hesitate to push Yuu to achieve his full potential. After learning that Yuu had to stay in Ramshackle over the winter vacation, basically doing janitorial work, Trein has offered Yuu a place at his home instead. If Yuu ever decides to stay in Twisted Wonderland permanently, Trein has also voiced his concerns about documentation, and has off-handedly offered once or twice to legally adopt him into his family. For documentation only.... of course. Yuu respects Trein a lot, and truly sees him as a mentor/father figure he can trust whenever he gets into trouble that he may not be able to handle all on his own. He may get annoyed at the fact that he can no longer purposefully half-ass his work at Trein's classes, but he appreciates the challenge— especially when he never had that sort of motivation growing up. Also, Trein is great at babysitting Grim.

2. Best Friends

Riddle & Trey: Look. If you're friends with Riddle, best friends even, you are automatically friends with Trey. They are a package deal, period. That said, Riddle, Trey and Yuu have shared custody of the Ace2 duo, so of course they have stories aplenty to share about their dumb, dumb friends' shenanigans. Yuu also really values having friends his age and especially friends he can reliably trust and not look after like a distressed mother hen. After Riddle's overblot, Yuu does feel a little bit bad that he got sorted into such a strict dorm, but Trey assures him that Riddle's truly best suited for it. Either way, Yuu's always invited to the monthly unbirthday parties (Even when he complains about Heartslabyul's "gaudy" uniforms).

Vil: Them becoming best friends was a surprise to everyone, especially Vil and Yuu themselves. After SDC and Vil's draconian training of the NRC boy group, he was able to piece together that Yuu had some sort of musical experience judging by his management and mentoring of some of the members (mainly Deuce and Kalim). This ended up becoming the route in which they'd become unlikely friends, as Yuu's view of musical performance as a hobby clashed with Vil's extreme dedication to the arts. Either way, the two balance each other out. Vil pushing Yuu to practice and perfect his rusty knowledge, and Yuu encouraging Vil to have more fun with his art. While true they grind each others' gears very often and most of their conversations are comprised of insults, they are very close and are literally ride or die for each other.

Kalim: Look, Yuu loves Kalim. He really does. But does Yuu think of him as his best friend? Hell no. Yuu distinguishes his best friends from his regular friends by the amount of trust he has on them to keep his secrets and Kalim... He's got a pretty lose mouth unlesss it comes to Jamil. Kalim, on the other hand, thinks everyone is his best friend... he is literally so lovely but at what cost. Yuu's very protective of him.

3. Crushes and General Romance

Azul/Yuu's perspective: Yuu didn't mean to get a crush on this conman. He really did not. He loathes the fact that Azul has managed to sneak his way into his heart and refuses to let go. It is even more embarassing to admit that Yuu caught feelings for him as soon as they first spoke. He was immediately attracted to his wit and cunning, how his each move was so carefully calculated to provide the best possible outcome. After it was revealed that Azul wasn't actually a genius like Yuu, but that he actually had to study and hone his abilities, and also how he was actually an (absolutely adorable) underdog during his childhood, Yuu's admiration for Azul only grew, him coming to truly appreciate and adore that stupid octo-jerk's personality even more. He knows having feelings for NRC's most notorious blackmailer is extremely dangerous, and so he is very tight-lipped about his crush and only has allowed his best friends to be privvy to that info (mostly so they can slap some sense into him). He doesn't really hate Azul. In fact, he thinks that if he didn't have a crush, they could have been pretty good friends. What he hates is how vulnerable he feels around him and how, if Azul somehow learnt about Yuu's crush on him, he most definitely will use those feelings to his advantage. This is why Yuu keeps his interactions with Ashengrotto to a minimum— having to pretend he is not absolutely head over heels for this stupid cephalo-punk gets exhausting fast.

(I know Grim picked this up from Yuu gushing over Azul's grade school pic. I know it.)

Yuu/Azul's perspective: (Un)fortunately, Yuu's confusing feelings for Azul can only be rivaled by Azul's themselves. At first Azul didn't think much of Yuu. Sure, he'd solved some overblot cases with the power of friendship or whatever, but he had never thought that Yuu would not only beat him at his own game, but that he was aware of his every move all that time! Azul had finally found a proper intellectual rival, and he couldn't wait to win their next rematch. Yet, Yuu kept on surprising him in many other ways. First, by revealing that Yuu had been hiding his own academic potential under a guise of mediocrity— having Grim as his perfect mask and lowering his GPA to a fairly believable rate. And second, by subtly pointing Azul towards Jamil as the possible cause for Kalim's sudden bout of madness. Yuu seemed to be always one step ahead. Even when he fumbled, he still managed to regroup and recover so quickly, it seemed impossible to Azul that Yuu would be completely magicless. And not only that, but through some kind of ungodly power, Yuu managed to chip away at the walls he had put up for years. Azul felt at ease, comfortable even, whenever he and Yuu hung out— even if it wasn't as often as he would like. Behind all of the banter about contracts and shady deals, Azul found himself trusting Yuu even more than the Tweels themselves (not like he trusted them that much either...). The insecure, pudgy, nerdy octopus of his childhood came out and was completely embraced by Yuu with absolutely no judgement. Overall though, his crush on Yuu is often overshadowed by his much more prominent crush on Jamil, one that is certainly less confusing and, therefore, much more easy to focus on rather than the undescifferable mess that are his feelings for the Ramshackle prefect.

Malleus: Look, its no secret that Malleus has a gigantic puppy love crush on Yuu. He has been intrigued and enamored by the odd huamn's behaviour ever since that one fateful night at Ramshackle dorm. Though fairly rusty on his courting knowledge, he sure does try. And he tries real damn hard. When Yuu left Twisted Wonderland, Malleus' biggest regret was never properly confessing how he felt— and yet he cannot find the courage to tell him how he feels even after Yuu has chosen to stay indefinitely. Yuu, on the other hand, considers Tsunotaro to be a very trusted friend. Maybe if he wasn't so cryptic and if they spent more time together, he would even be promoted to best friend status someday. Yuu is sort-of-kind-of aware of Malleus' crush. And he wishes he could return his feelings. But, as his bad luck would have it, his heart is already dead-set on a certain, annoying cephalopod.

Jamil: Though Yuu does not harbor any romantic feelings for Jamil, the biggest, and most obvious reason he cannot stand the guy is pure and unfiltered jealousy. He is jealous that Azul shamelessly flirts with Jamil only to be met with a cold shoulder. He hates how, every time Jamil mentions Azul off-handedly and his advances, it makes him wish he was in Jamil's place instead. And what he hates the most is that Azul seems to forget Yuu's existence whenever Jamil is nearby. Either way, he cannot completely hate Jamil because, if Azul's crush on him is obvious, then Jamil's own disastorous crush on Kalim can be seen through space. Yuu, once again, thinks that if it weren't for his crush on Azul, they'd be on fairly okay terms with each other.

#twisted wonderland #art stuff #twst oc #twst mc #twst yuu #twst grim #twst azul #twst riddle #twst trey #twst vil #twst ace #twst deuce #twst epel #twst jack #twst ortho #look my posts havent been showing up on the twst tag so im just living my best insane life out there in the sidelines #yuu fujisaki

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dolls-self-ships · 4 months

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Two Birds One Storm

heyyyy this is my first fic in a while also it’s not finished yet this is only part one so it’s a quick read if you’re interested! <3 inspired by this prompt by otp-fanfic-ideas

“Oh my, would you look at that?”

Mac raised her head with a slight curious hum in her throat at the sound of her voice, she looked over to see her .. em.. friend, sitting by the window of her hut, which was being rapidly spotted with heavy raindrops, making an aggressive tap.. tap tap.. tap.. tap tap sound on the glass.

Mac felt startled, she could have sworn she calculated this weeks weather to a T, and all accounts showed nothing but sunshine, but sometimes Mother Nature had a way of being particularly unpredictable. Either that or she had miscalculated, but Mac would rather believe the first thing than the second one.

“Why, it’s just raining cats and dogs” Daphne tsked, still observing the grey sky and the cloudy mist that now covered the island.

“Oh aye” Mac agreed as she joined Daphne at the window, looking up to study the clouds herself. “And that great big one looks like a cumulonimbus. An et looks like there’s more rolling in fast as et is.”

Daphne looked at her, a little confused at first but trying her best to remember what kind of cloud that was. She had been getting used to Mac’s way of putting things into very technical terms, on top of her thick Scottish accent- of which both she found endlessly charming- and she would hate to make Mac repeat herself, as she often had to.

After a couple seconds, Daphne was almost certain she remembered. “That means uh.. thunder right?”

Mac smiled at her, and nodded in approval. She gave a little "mhm!" as in 'that's correct!'.

"I must say hen, you're catchin' on faster than Mr. Rhodes ever did. Yer a fast learner!" Mac praised her with an approving grin and a wink. Daphne felt a small sense of pride swell inside of her when Mac said that, partially because she liked the feeling of being better than Rocky at something, but also because she liked that Mac felt understood by her.

“Maybe because we spend so much time together" she giggled.

Mac felt a little bit of a rush from that, a warmth filled her cheeks as she nodded. "Aye, that too." She looked back out the window,

After a few moments of staring out into the rain, it slowly began to dawn on Daphne that her hut was all the way on the other side of town, and getting there would be like hell in just the rain alone, let along when the storm starts picking up. She gently cleared her throat and stammered "W-well, I-I should probably start headin' out now"

Mac was shocked, what on earth was she saying? She couldn't go out in this weather. "What? Now? I donnae think that's such a good idea, lass."

Daphne sighed "If I don't get goin' now I'm not gonna make it home" she said, shaking her head, "and I would hate to be a bother to you"

The rain started to pick up more, followed by a loud crash that startled the two. Both their heads turned quickly back to the window, and their eyes slowly travled upwards to see clusters of rain clouds, more and more packing in as if they all had a personal vendetta against this one specific chicken-housing island. They could see tiny flashes of light coming from between the cracks of plush looking grey forms in the sky, but it wasn't sunshine like one would hope, the flashes were erratic and white, the lightning had already begun to start up.

"Hen, I cannae let you go out in that, ye could ge'y knocked over by de wind, lost in all de fog, shrivel up like a wee raisin from all the rain, catch hypothermia-"

Daphne watched as Mac counted on her fingers all the possibilities she could face if she went outside at this time, in an effort to get her to stop, she placed her wings overtop of hers.

"Alright, alright, I get it, I just.." She paused, shifting in her seat and taking a breath “I just don’t wanna impose, that’s all”

Mac shook her head. “Even if that was, hen, there’s no wey that wee half-built bit wuld keep you warm enough in this.”

Daphne hummed, looking back outside as she saw the first bolt of lightening hit the water around the island. She wasn’t able to get out a response in time as Mac has already gotten up from her seat.

“Sit tight while I put de kettle on.”

As Mac left to the kitchen to get started, Daphne watched her with guilty eyes. She didn't know what it was, but everytime she was being waited on by someone, it always felt off. Wrong somehow. She hated making people go out of their way for her, she didn't like the feeling that she was causing trouble or making someone get up, even when it was a simple of a task as brewing tea. So, she quickly got up from her seat.

"Wait" She followed after her, Mac turned over her shoulder from where she stood, already at the counter with the kettle going, which had already begun to make its low steaming sound, a high pitched, barely audible 'phhhwwwwtttt' sound. Daphne came up beside her and plucked two tea bags from the little display Mac had placed on the kitchen top. Peppermint- Mac's favourite. "I'll get these for ya"

Mac smiled, holding out her hand to grab the two little bags. "Thanks hen" she said, reaching for them a bit further than she intended, and accidentally brushing her hand over Daphne fingertips.

phhhwwttt

Mac jolted, a gasp hitched in her throat. Her teeth clenched as she flinched her hand away, feeling that familiar warmth in her cheeks again. Her eyes flickered between her recoiled hand and Daphne’s face, hoping that she could read her expression just enough to predict what was going through her mind at that moment.

Ppppphhhwhwwttttt

Daphne wasn't all that suave either, she didn’t say a word, but her eyes spoke volumes. They wouldn't leave the spot on her hand that Mac accidentally touched, it was like she could still feel a ghost of what the sensation was like to have her feathertips brush hers. It was still warm. Still comfortable.

PPPPPHHHHWWWTTTTTTT

Her eyes darted back up to the maroon combed hen, who then turned away from her shyly and said in an awkward tone and held out her hand, palm up, instead for Daphne to place the bags in.

"Ah... sorry"

It was up until then that Daphne had completely forgotten about the tea.

“It’s alright…”

click

The water was ready.

#don’t feel pressured to read this lol I barely even read other peoples fics bc I’m lazy (I’m sorry)#I’m mostly just posting this for fun #even if ya just throw it a like I’ll appreciate it #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #self ships #self insert #self ship fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #self insert fic #chicken run #aardman #mac #lovebirds ♥️🐔

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corvid-language-library · 3 months

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Norwegian Bokmål for Total Beginners (January 2024 Crash Course)

26. Continents

Good morning/afternoon/evening everyone! We're back with some continents today:

kontinent (n), verdensdel (m) - continent

Afrika - Africa

Asia - Asia

Oseania - Oceania

Nord-Amerika - North America

Sør-Amerika - South America

Europa - Europe

Antarktis - Antarctica

Grammar: I live in...

Typically when you talk about what country or city you live in, you use 'i' (in):

Vi bor i Frankrike - We live in France

Bor dere i Oslo? - Do you live in Oslo?

But sometimes, you use 'på'. This is typically if the country or place is and island, but sometimes there's no apparent reason for it:

Hen bor på island - They live in Iceland

De har et fint hus på Lillehammer - They have a nice house in Lillehammer

Don't worry if you get it wrong; Norwegians know it's confusing!

With continents, you use 'i':

Botswana er et land i Afrika (Botswana is a country in Africa)

De bor i Asia (They live in Asia)

Er Mexico i Nord-Amerika eller Sør-Amerika? (Is Mexico in North America or South America?)

Bonus: Kaizers Orchestra

Immersion is a big part of learning a language, so allow me to introduce you to one of my favourite bands: Kaizers Orchestra! They're a famous rock band in Norway. The dialect is a bit difficult, but you can still learn lots of vocabulary from their songs.

youtube

#nutrcracker norsk #norwegian langblr #beginner norwegian #jan '24 beginner norwegian crash course #learning norwegian #norwegian: a1 #my oc: norwegian #norwegian #norsk #Youtube

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capseycartwright · 2 years

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100. "it’s always been you” kisses if it inspires xoxo mwah

Being in love with your best friend is one of those things that you just had to live with, Buck decided – he’d thought that maybe once his treacherous brain realised that there was no hope of his relationship with Eddie turning to a romantic one, that it would graciously accept reality and turn those head rush-y, swishy, romantic feelings back into platonic ones, but that hadn’t been the case. No, Buck’s feelings for Eddie had remained as strong as ever – and only ever seemed to get stronger – and so Buck just had to live with it, live with knowing that he would forever love Eddie Diaz and Eddie would never love him back: not in the way Buck wanted him too, at least.

And that sad story led Buck to now, babysitting Christopher while Eddie was out on a date. Oh, cruel world – how the universe wanted him to suffer. Eddie had come out, a few months back, and Buck had been impossibly proud of his best friend for doing the hard work that coming out took – he’d had the hard conversations, and he’d done the therapy, and Buck had been there when Eddie had sat his parents down and told them he was gay – and he’d gritted his teeth and pretended to be happy as Eddie embraced his identity and started dating men.

Buck was proud – really, he was – but he was also a viciously jealous bastard and so every time Eddie went out, Buck put Christopher to bed, and he sat in the kitchen, beer in hand, and obsessively thought about what Eddie was doing, and if he was about to meet the love of his life. To Buck’s delight (and look – he knew he shouldn’t delight in his friend’s dating life being a disaster) and Eddie’s dismay, none of the dozen or so dates he’d been on in the last six months had amounted to anything more than a flush to Eddie’s cheeks and an admission that yeah, he was definitely gay, but that he wouldn’t be seeing them for another date.

Buck wasn’t sure what was worse – watching this and knowing that Eddie was getting to be kissed and touched by someone else, but he still would come home to Buck, at least, or seeing Eddie walk through the door happy and know that he had finally met the One and that Buck’s role in Eddie’s life was about to be relegated to dorky best friend instead of de-facto life partner. With the first, he got to keep Eddie for a while longer, at least.

It was selfish, he knew, but you did silly, selfish things when you were in big time unrequited love with your platonic best friend.

The sound of the front door gently creaking open caught his attention, and Buck hurried himself into an upright position, waiting for Eddie to walk into the kitchen. Buck always sent Eddie out on his dates with the promise that it was fine if Eddie didn’t come home, but Eddie hadn’t taken Buck up on that offer just yet.

“Hi,” Eddie greeted, giving Buck a soft smile as he entered the kitchen. He was wearing a new shirt – one Hen had encouraged him to buy, actually, the material so dark green it was almost black, the colour bringing out the chocolate brown of Eddie’s eyes. He was beautiful – Buck knew that much.

“Hi,” Buck greeted, nudging his beer toward Eddie as his friend slid into the chair next to him. “How did it go?”

Eddie paused, for a second, thumbing the peeling label of the beer bottle, the condensation on the glass making the paper come unstuck. “I realised something, on that date,” he admitted, looking carefully at Buck. “I know why none of these dates are working out.”

Buck cracked a smile. “Is it because you’re a blanket hog?” he joked, because he couldn’t do much, and he couldn’t admit how he felt, but he would make a joke and try and make Eddie feel better, if his date had gone badly: taking care of Eddie was something Buck could always do.

“No – well, maybe,” Eddie returned the smile. “I realised none of these dates were working out, because what I’ve been looking for has been right in front of me all along.”

Buck – Buck was dreaming, right? Because Eddie couldn’t possibly mean what Buck thought he meant, and –

“It’s you, Buck,” Eddie said, a hint of wonder in his voice as he spoke, reaching across the table to brush his hand against Buck’s, pinky finger pressed to the side of Buck’s hand. It was a simple, tiny touch, and yet it felt like it was setting every nerve in Buck’s body alight. “It’s always been you, and I – you don’t have to tell me that you feel the same, or anything, but I don’t think I could live a minute longer without you knowing.”

Buck was pretty sure his entire throat was closing up. “Without – without me knowing what?” he managed to croak out the question, because if this was really happening, he needed to hear the words, definitively and absolutely.

Eddie Diaz, the most beautiful man in the world, inclined his head slightly, smile soft as he looked at Buck as though this was the most obvious thing in the world and Buck should have known all along. “I love you, Buck,” and oh – this was the sort of movie magic moment Buck had been so sure he’d never get to have, sitting in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, experiencing the most life affirming, glorious moment of his life, while the rest of Los Angeles continued their evening around them as normal, as if Buck’s world hadn’t been flipped on its axis.

“It’s okay, if you don’t feel the same,” Eddie added quickly, clearly nervous, now – and Buck could see it, Eddie leaving his date early and sitting behind the wheel of his car knowing that he had to drive home and tell Buck how he felt, counting backwards from ten and using all of the techniques Frank had taught him to control his anxiety before he walked into his own house and changed the course of their lives.

“Eddie,” Buck didn’t mean for it to sound like a whimper, but he knew he was crying already, fat, salty tears escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, the moment overwhelming him entirely. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Eddie softened, his anxiety gone as he closed the space between them, wiping away one, two, three tears. “You hated me the moment you met me,” he teased, hand coming to rest at Buck’s jaw, cupping his face gently.

Buck snorted, his laughter wet. “I’m trying to give you a sincere love confession, Edmundo, and you’re teasing me. Do you know how rude that is?”

Eddie laughed, leaning his forehead against Buck’s. “Sorry,” he said, and he didn’t sound the slightest bit sorry at all.

“I love you,” Buck repeated, and there would be time, later, for the flowers and grandiose love confessions and the words you see written on the inside of Hallmark cards, but for now, Buck just wanted to kiss the man he’d loved for so long – so, he did. Eddie tasted faintly of the mouthwash he preferred – the one Buck always said was too minty – and like the chewing gum Buck had left in Eddie’s car - the bubble-gum one that Eddie always pulled a face at – and something uniquely Eddie, too, the other man soft, and pliant in Buck’s grip as they kissed for the first time.

I love you; I love you; I love you – its you, its you, it’s always been you, how could it ever be anyone else?

“I love you,” Eddie breathed, and Buck didn’t dare open his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the vision of the rest of his life that kissing Eddie had given him – raising Christopher, the pitter patter of more tiny feet, a house of their own, a dog and Saturday night family dinners and laundry and doing groceries and carpooling to the station together every day until they retired. “It’s always been you, Buck,” he repeated, and Buck couldn’t do anything except believe it – because when your best friend tells you that they love you, you sort of have to believe it, don’t you?

Buck smiled against Eddie’s lips, tugging him closer. “I love you,” he breathed, and, well - loving Eddie Diaz had always been as easy as breathing.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #911fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #hoediaz #prompt fill #this took months and its probably bad pls enjoy

268 notes · View notes

conarcoin · 1 year

Note

Giggeli - Penis Candles & Soaps Handmade in Kallio, Helsinki, Finland

Cart

+800 Nicknames for Penis: A Comprehensive List for Different Ways to Call a Penis

GIGGELI

Dicks can be referred to in a variety of ways. A collection of more than 800 additional words for the penis in alphabetical order is provided in this article. This list includes both common slang terminology and more uncommon and obscure words that are all related to the penis.

+800 Different Words for Penis: A Comprehensive List

Anaconda

Antenna

Appendage

Armadillo

Arrow

Baby maker

Baguette

Bald Avenger

Bald-headed giggle stick

Bally Wacker

Banana

Banger

Baseball bat

Baton

Bayonet

Beast

Beef bayonet

Beef whistle

Bellend

Big boy

Big guy

Biscuit

Bishop

Black mamba

Blastocyst

Blood sausage

Blue-veined custard chucker

Blue-veined junket pumper

Boaby

Bobbin

Bollocks

Bologna pony

Bolt

Bone

Boner

Booboo

Boom stick

Boot

Bopper

Botswana beef bayonet

Bouncer

Bouncing Betty

Braciole

Brain

Branch

Bratwurst

Broccoli

Broccoli spear

Brown trout

Brownie

Brutus and the Twins

Bubble

Bubble gum machine

Buckaroo

Buckwheat

Buddah's belly button

Buffalo soldier

Bulge

Bull

Bull's-eye

Bully beef

Bully stick

Bum tickler

Bumper

Burrito

Buster

Butt dart

Butterbean

Button

Caber

Cabeza

Cactus

Cadbury's c

Cajones

Camel toe

Cane

Cannoli

Captain winky

Capuchin

Carrot

Cervix sentinel

Chameleon

Champignon

Cheese log

Cheesestick

Chef's special

Cherub

Chicken

Chico stick

Choad

Chode

Chopper

Chowder

Christmas goose

Chub

Chubby

Chuck Dickens

Cigar

Cinnamon roll

Clam

Classic

Clit stick

Cloak

Clock

Club

Cobra

Cock

Cod

Colossus

Commander

Cone

Conga

Conquistador

Consolation prize

Corkscrew

Corn dog

Cornholio

Cornish game hen

Corporal

Cossack

Cougar bait

Coxcomb

Crank

Crankshaft

Creamer

Crimper

Crimson mushroom

Crinkle-cut

Crown jewels

Crunchwrap

Crème de la crème

Cucumber

Cummerbund

Custard launcher

Cylinder

D's

Dagger

Dallas Dangler

Danger noodle

Darth Vader

Deep sea diver

Dick

Dickas Hilton

Ding dong

Ding-dong

Dingaling

Dipstick

Disco stick

Dismount

Divining rod

Dog

Doggy

Dolly

Dong

Donkey

Doorknob

Dope stick

Dork

Dormouse

Double barrel

Double dragon

Downstairs department

Drainpipe

Driller

Drumstick

Dude piston

Dumb stick

Dutch courage

Dutch rudder

Excalibur

Firehose

Franks and beans

Gerald

Gherkin

Giggeli

Goldfinger

Groin

Hammer

hammer of love

Hammer of Thor

handle

hard drive

Hard-on

hardware

hatchet wound

he-man

heat-seeking missile

heat-seeking moisture missile

helmet

herbie

Hercules

high hard one

hoo-ha

hoo-hoo

hook

horn

Hose

hose

hot dog

hot rod

hot sausage

Humphrey

hymie

iceberg

Indiana Bones

Jack in the box

Jack's magic beanstalk

Jackhammer

jammy

janitor in the hallway

java

javelin

jawbreaker

Jedi

Jefferson

jelly doughnut

Jenny Craig

Jerry

jiffy stick

Jimmy

Jizz Launcher

John Henry

John Johnson

Johnson

Jorma

Joy-stick

Joystick

joystick

Judge

Juicy fruit

jumbo

Jumper

Junior

Junk

junk

justin

Justus

Kaiser

kebab

Keck

Kennedy

kielbasa

King Ding Dong

King Kong

King Richard

King size

King snake

King's scepter

King's sword

Kipper

Kitty

Knob

Knobgoblin

Knobhead

Knobkerrie

Knobstick

Kraken

Krull the Warrior King

Kulli

Kyrpä

L'Engin

L'Outil

L'Unita

Lady-pleaser

Laidy's lollypop

Lance

Lancer

Lava flow

Leader

Leaky faucet

Leatherman

Lechon

Leek

Leg

Leg of lamb

Leg of mutton

Leggy

Lemon

Lemondrop

Length

Lengthy

Leo

Leosaurus

Leper

Leroy

Leviathan

Libido

Lick

Lickety-split

Lighthouse

Lightning rod

Lil' bro

Lil' willy

Lily

Lima

Limber dick

Limber jimmy

Limbo

Limousine

Limp biscuit

Limp noodle

Limp penis

Limp-dick

Limp-jim

Limpkin

Lincoln

Lindy

Lingam

Link

Linty

Lion

Lipstick

Liquidator

Liquor stick

Lissome

Little birdie

Little bro

Little chap

Little guy

Little head

Little john

Little man

Little peter

Little soldier

Little willy

Lizard

Lizard tongue

Locomotive

Log

Lollipop

Long Dong Silver

Long dong silver

Long fellow

Long john

Long johnson

Long one

Long stick

Longfellow

Longfellow diller

Longhorn

Longie

Longjohn

Longshanks

Longstaff

Magic Mike

Magic stick

Magic Wand

Magic wand

Manhood

Meat Scepter

Meat stick

Member

Micropenis

Mini-me

Missile

Moby Dick

Mojo

Monster

Mount Vesuvius

Mr. Happy

Mr. Winky

Mule

Mushroom

Mushroom Head

Mutton

Myrtle

Nard

Nether rod

One-eye Pete

One-Eyed Monster

One-eyed monster

One-Eyed Snake

One-eyed trouser snake

One-eyed wonder weasel

Organ

Package

Packer

Packing heat

Pecker

Pee-Pee

Pee-pee

Peen

Pencil

Pencil dick

Penile appendage

Penile shaft

Penile tissue

Penile unit

Penile weapon

Penis

Pepperoncini

Peter

Phallos

Phallus

Piece

Pink Oboe

Pintle

Pipe

Pistol

Piston

Pleasure Stick

Plonker

Pocket Rocket

Pogo stick

Poker

Pole

Popcorn

Pork Sword

Prick

Private

Private part

Purple-headed yogurt slinger

Purple-helmeted trouser snake

Purple-Helmeted Warrior of Love

Purple-helmeted warrior of love

Purple-helmeted yogurt thrower

Python

Quiver bone

Ramrod

Ranger

Rascal

Red-capped mushroom

Rod

Root of Jesse

Rude boy

Sausage

Scepter

Schlong

Schwanz

Schwanzstucker

Schwetty balls

Scooby Snack

Screwdriver

Scrod

Scrotum

Sea monster

Secret weapon

Shaft

Shillelagh

Shiv

Shlong

Skin Flute

Skin flute

Skinner

Slingblade

Slug

Slugger

Smacker

Snake

Snapper

Soldier

Spam javelin

Spear

Speed Bump

Speedboat

Spigot

Spigot of love

Spitstick

Spitter

Sponge

Spongebob

Sprout

Spunk gun

Spurt gun

Squirt gun

Staff

Stallion

Stand

Stand up

Starfruit

Stick

Stiffie

Stiffy

Stinger

Stock

Stone

Stone of David

Stonehenge

Stonker

Stopper

Striker

Stud

Stump

Submarine

Sugar stick

Super soaker

Supercock

Surfboard

Swamp lizard

Swansong

Sweetmeat

Swiss Army Penis

Swizzle stick

Sword

Tabasco

Tadger

Tail

Tall tommy

tally

Tallywacker

tallywhacker

Tang

Tank

tapa

Tassle

Tasty pastry

tater

Tazmanian devil

Tea and crumpets

Tea stick

Telescoping tower

Tent peg

Testicle

Testicles

testicular tissue

testiculi

testies

testons

testosterbone

The anaconda

The baton

The big guy

the big vein

the bishop

The blue-veined custard chucker

The chopper

The cone

the conga

The cyclops

The ding dong

The Dipstick

The dong

The driver

The dude piston

the eye of the needle

the family jewels

the flagpole

The flesh flute

The flesh rocket

the fleshy tripod

the fuck stick

the fun rod

The grower

the head

The heat-seeking moisture missile

the hose

The joystick

the King

The knob

the little man in the boat

The love muscle

the magic wand

the main vein

The male member

the man in the boat

The meat whistle

the member

The middle leg

The mighty mite

the old boy

The old man

The one-eyed captain

The one-eyed monster

the one-eyed snake

The one-eyed wonder worm

The package

The peen

The peeper

the pendulum

the peter

The pink cigar

the pink oboe

The pipe

the piston

the pleasure pole

The poker

The pole

the pork sword

the prick

The purple-helmeted warrior

the purple-helmeted warrior of love

The python

The rocket

The rod

The salami

The sausage

The schlong

the scoop

The shaft

The shotgun

The skin flute

The snake

the spitter

the staff of life

the stick

The stiff one

The stinger

the stonker

the sword

The third leg

The tool

The trouser snake

The tube steak

the unit

The wang

the weasel

The wedge

the wee-wee

The weenie

The whopper

The wiener

The wiggle stick

the willy

the wingwang

The womb raider

The wonder worm

The woody

the worm

thingy

Third Leg

Third leg

Thorn

Thrill drill

Throb knob

throbber

Throbbing gristle

Thumper

Thunderbird

Thunderbolt

Thunderstick

Tic Tac

Tickle pickle

Tickler

Tiger

Tiki

Timber

Time machine

Tingler

Tinker

Tinkerbell

tip

Tip drill

Tip of the iceberg

Tipper

Tissue

Titan

Toad

toadstool

todger

Toe

Tool

tooly

tooter

Toothpick

Tootsie roll

Top gun

Torch

Tower

Tower of power

tractor beam

Trafalgar

Treasure

Tree trunk

Tri-pod

Trinket

Trombone

Trouser Snake

Trousersnake

Trumpet

Truncheon

Trunk

Tuba

tube

Tummy banana

Tuna Can

Tuna can

Tuna torpedo

Turgid Trouser Snake

Turgid turtle

turkey

Turkey baster

Turkey neck

Turnip

turtle

Turtleneck

Tusk

twanger

Twig

Twig and Berries

Twig and berries

Twinkie

twinky

Twister

Two ball cane

Two veg and meat

Two-legged Boa

Two-legged tripod

twonker

Umbrella handle

Uncircumcised wonder

Uncle

Uncle Dick

Uncle John

Unit

unmentionables

Uzi

Vainilla

Vainilla Stick

Valiant vein

Veggie

vein

Vein train

Vein train.

Vein-cutter

Vein-erect

Veined custard launcher

VeinMaster 3000

Veiny Victor

Veinzilla

Velvet sword

Vessel

Vienna Sausage

Viking horn

Viking Staff

Vindicator

Vinegar

Violin

Virility

Vixen

Vodka

Volcano

Wally

Wand

wand of light

Wang

wang dang doodle

Wanger

wangle

Wangsta

Wanker

wankie

War club

Warrior

Weapon

Weapon of ass destruction

Weapon of mass destruction

Weapon of Mass Seduction

Wedge

Wee-wee

weenie

weewee

Weiner

wenis

wet noodle

Whacker

Whammer

Whang

Whangdoodle

wheenie

Whip

Whistle

White gold

White Mamba

Whoopie Stick

whopper jr.

widget

Wiener

Wiener Schnitzel

Wiggle stick

wiggle worm

Wiggler

Wiggly

William

Willow

Willpower

Willy

Willy the one-eyed wonder worm

willy wonka

Wing wong

wing-wang

Wingman

Winkie

Winky

Winnebago

Winner

Winston

Winston Churchill

Wintermelon

Wisdom Wand

Wise man

Wishbone

wizard sleeve

Wonder Worm

Wood

Woodpecker

Woody

Worm

Wormhole

wormy

Wrecking ball

Wriggler

Wriggly

Wrinkle

wrinklepump

Wrist Rocket

Wyvern

X-factor

Xylophone

Yad

Yak

Yam

yam

Yam bag

Yams

Yang

Yankee doodle

Yard

Yardstick

Yawing Yowie

Yearling

Yellow

Yellow Belly

Yellow Dart

Yellow dragon

Yellow Peril

Yellow Sausage

Yellow submarine

Yen

Yew

Ygdrasil's staff

Yin-yang serpent

yingyang

Yippie

Yipsicle

Yo-yo

Yob

yobbo

Yoda

Yoga stick

Yoghurt Cannon

Yoghurt gun

Yoghurt pistol

Yogurt

Yogurt hose

Yogurt Slinger

Yogurt slinger

Yogurt thrower

Yolk

Yolkstick

Yolky poke

Yoni

yoni stick

Youth

Yoyo

Yuca

Yule log

Yum yum

Yum-yum

Yummy

Zapper

Zealot

Zebedee

Zebracorn horn

zebu

Zen

Zephyr

Zeppelin

Zesty Italian

Zeus

ziggurat

Zigzag

Zilla

Zinger

Zipper

Zipper Ripper

Zipper snake

Zippy

ziz

Zog

zombie

Zombie maker

Zombie stick

Zonker

Zoom Stick

Zoombini

Zoomer

Zoot stick

Zorro

Zucchini

Zygmunt Freud

Zygote poker

Zygotene

dude?

#long post #penis anon

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3pirouette · 9 months

Text

Fic: The Captain and The Missus (3/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour.

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America”

(Robot’s post HERE: https://3pirouette.tumblr.com/post/654017864817360896/steggy-24-49)

SO... Yes. yes, it's true. I've somehow managed to only update this once a year during the past three years for Steggy Week. At least I'm consistent.

For 2023, this satisfies Steggy Week Day 2: WIPs and Updates.

Chapter 3: Getting on the Right Track

Summary: Peggy and Steve are off on their adventure, but she’ll need to start relying on him just as much as she wants him to rely on her if this is going to work.

A/N: Yes. I’ve now posted one chapter a year for three years in a row for Steggy Week. It’s become tradition. I think a lot of it has to do with this story really just coming slow. I love it, but it’s not flowing as nicely as I’d like it to, so when I get to Steggy Week, I see the WIP category, and go “oh! I should update that!”

So, yeah. Please be kind about it.

~*~

Peggy huffed as she sat on the bench, sliding over to make room for him, irritated. “I’m already not liking this.”

Steve settled softly, trying to tuck his body into a space that used to seem roomy to his 90-pound self, and now seemed cramped for his new body. “The seat?” He turned and looked up the aisle. “I can ask the conductor if there’s—"

“No, no,” she interrupted him, setting her bag on her lap and playing with the edge. “Playing the nagging wife. ‘Oh, do be gentle! My grandmother’s china is in there! Please keep that on the bottom, men, I don’t want it tipping. Oh, could you do me a favor and make sure all our trunks are labeled? Couldn’t lose one, you know!’” She huffed again, looking over at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Those men nearly dropped that entire trunk full of ammunition and finely tuned decoders!”

Steve looked alarmed and dropped his voice, leaning in to her. “Could they have exploded?”

She pressed her lips and turned away for a moment, trying not to be angry for his ignorance. “No,” she mumbled, looking back, “But we won’t get another chance at getting more decoders or half of the other kit in there if something breaks or de-calibrates. It won’t explode, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t delicate.”

Steve nodded, letting the information settle for a moment. “I was a little curious why you were being so specific about them.”

Peggy glanced around the sparsely populated car, still caught up in her anxiety. The car ride to the train station had been quiet, which she had hoped came across as contentment, but it was really more her nerves than anything. “I understand why we couldn’t take a transport, but I’d take a well-trained private over a single one of those brutes tossing around our luggage any day. I felt like I was running basic training all over again out there. Everyone on this train must think you’re horribly hen-pecked.”

For a moment she saw that 90-pound man reemerge as he twiddled his thumbs and his jaw opened and closed as he tried to come up with an answer that would appease her. It was enough to crack the wall of growing anxiety and soften her just a little bit. She took pity on him and set her hand on his to stop the fidgeting. “I’m being ridiculous.” She started another sentence, but had to turn away as she yawned, big and wide, into her elbow.

“Tired?” Steve asked, his fingers almost, but not quite, holding her hand.

She sighed, turning back to him as the train rumbled to life under them. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He shrugged, half smiling. “We’ve got, what… six hours?”

Peggy clicked her tongue behind her teeth and pulled her hand back, sitting tall. “That’s exactly why I can’t take a nap.” She took a deep breath, looking around the train. “Beginnings and endings of operations are the most dangerous part. Anyone could have followed us here. I can’t let my guard down for a second.”

“Peggy,” he started, almost stern, “there’s barely anyone on this train car. I don’t think that the eighty-year-old woman or the two little kids over there are planning anything nefarious. How could they have figured out our plan and followed us here already?”

She looked at him hard, knowing he was trying to placate her. “How, indeed?” She mused sarcastically, “And how do you think a Hydra Agent managed his way into a top secret SSR bunker to try to kill you and Erskine, hum?” She didn’t mean to be sharp, didn’t mean to open the wound that was still too close to the surface, but the thought still kept her up at night.

That man shouldn’t have been able to get in there. Someone in the SSR was ratting them out to Hydra.

That meant that nothing, nothing they were going to do that anyone else knew about, was safe.

Especially putting Steve in this damn show.

Steve nodded in understanding, shrugging half-heartedly, a shadow passing over his face at the thoughts of what had happened. “I get it, I do.”

“I have to keep you safe.” She replied softly, urgency filling her voice. “I can’t let my guard down, even for a moment.”

“So what?” he didn’t miss a beat, his own eyes accusing now, “You’re not going to ever fall asleep?”

“Well, I—”

He shook his head. “No, Peg. This isn’t one sided.”

She leaned forward, dropping her voice down low, “It’s my job to keep you alive, and I’m damn well not going to—”

He reached over, grabbing her hand. The movement was enough to derail her frustration and turn it to curiosity as he held her left hand up to his. “This, Peg, says we’re partners.” He moved his hands, letting their matching rings shine in the light, smiling a little and letting his own frustration morph to earnestness. “For better or for worse. Like it or not. You and me against the world.”

Peggy didn’t want to admit that the moment, born out of frustration and desperation, was extremely tender, or that she felt a little thrill of excitement at the confident, strong way he took her hand, or that she felt cared for in the soft way that he cradled her hand as he lined up their rings. No, she tried to ignore the fact that his eyes were damn near sparkling as he said those words, filled with all the emotions she was feeling, and maybe even more. She really, really didn’t want to admit that of all the moments in her life, that was the most damn romantic of them all.

“Steve, I…” Her voice drifted away. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she knew she needed to protest, needed to change this moment before it got way out of hand.

“We’re a team,” he whispered. “The moment we left that base this morning, it was just us. I don’t like to think about the fact that someone has already tried to kill me, and that it’ll probably happen again, and I don’t like thinking about the fact that you’re in that line of fire with me. But you’re here to protect me, and even though no one’s said it before now, I’m saying it and I mean it: I’m protecting you, too.”

Peggy struggled for composure; she tried to keep a straight face when everything inside her was falling apart. She’d never been one for big declarations or sappy sentiments and coming from anyone else, it might have felt trite or overly sugary, but Peggy knew with every fiber of her being that Steve meant it. He well and truly meant it.

She couldn’t remember if anyone had ever said something so simple in such a profound way to her before. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever believed someone so fervently before.

It was a struggle to pull her focus back out, to keep the world from closing in until there was just the two of them, hands cradled together, train bouncing below them as Steve just happened to outdo her ex-fiance’s proposal of marriage in a few earnest words, but she managed it. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing the words were not enough for the depth of the sentiment he just expressed. She forced the tension to break with a smile, squeezing his hand. “You don’t need to work so hard, Steve, I’ve already married you.”

He chuckled, the heaviness around them lightening almost instantly. He looked away, ears turning red as he whispered into the aisle, “Maybe I’m trying to get you to fall in love with me.”

“Hum?” The questioning sound was out of her throat before she could stop herself. She knew very well what he’d said, but didn’t quite want to believe it. She managed to keep a straight face as he panicked, letting go of her hand and shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he tried to cover, poorly, and forced a nervous smile at her. “You should take a nap, really.”

Her smile only lifted her lips a little as she ducked her head. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could if I wanted to, I’m still so keyed up.”

This time his smile was genuine as he rooted in his pocket to pull out a small paperback. “Offer stands. I don’t need much sleep these days, anyway.”

She watched him, unabashedly, as he turned to the book and flipped through until he found his page. Without thought she reached out, hand wrapping around his wrist to get his attention. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“That meant a lot,” she managed to choke out, uncomfortable with the way the words made her feel exposed, but knowing she needed to make him understand how she felt, “what you said about us. You and me.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Together against the world.”

“Yes,” she could feel the stress start to drain from her. “A team.” She took a slow, deep breath. It was like the worry, the anxiety of the last two days was getting left behind them with each passing second and each mile they put between the base and themselves, but she’d never been more serious. “I’m going to hold up my end, Steve, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he put down the book, flipping his hand and lacing their fingers together. “And I’ll keep up mine.”

~*~

She remembered holding his hand, contentedly, looking out the window and pretending she was watching the landscape pass them by while he read with one hand, but instead took the time to clock each and every passenger, to look them over in the reflection and try to gauge their threat level.

Somewhere after the pre-teen boy three rows up, she realized she had her head on his shoulder. It didn’t much seem to matter, though, as she could still hear him turning pages and they were supposed to be married, after all.

Just after the man two rows back, she thought that she’d just close her eyes for a minute.

Just one.

And five hours later, she woke up tucked into Steve’s side as the train slowed, chugging into the station.

~*~

They were hustled from the station to the theater by a small man with a pinched face, who seemed both annoyed by and indifferent to their presence. He assured them that their trunks would make it to their hotel room safely before he ushered them off the platform and into a small car.

She was both impressed and somewhat relieved that Steve managed to make his own fuss about the trunks as they were ushered off the train, she didn’t even need to speak a word on the subject.

They were quiet in the car, the trip quite a bit longer than they expected. “I thought we were going to be in DC?” Steve asked as the man navigated the streets.

“The show will open in DC, rehearsals are outside of the city,” the man replied. “Your hotel is close to the theater, don’t worry.” He grumbled, mumbling under his breath, “I know you’re worried about your trunks.”

Peggy tried to hold back her smile, but couldn’t. Steve gave her a gentle tap with his elbow, and she acknowledged his performance on the subject with a grateful bow of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He spoke softly. Even though they were bound to be overheard by their driver, who was under no obligation to keep anything he heard a secret, his soft voice went a long way to making the question feel at least a little private.

“Much better,” she replied just as quietly. “Suppose I was more tired than I thought.”

She expected a smile, or maybe a flirt- something he’d been more confident in over the last day- but instead he sobered and dropped his voice even lower. “I’m glad you felt safe enough. I always want you to feel safe with me.”

She couldn’t help but smile this time. “I do.”

~*~

It occurred to Peggy, as she walked into the theater, that she’d never been in one as something other than a patron. She’d gone for films and for the occasional play, even to hear concerts… but she’d never been in a theater where she wasn’t ushered to her seat and treated to a performance.

She was stunned as she followed Steve through the backstage area, stepping over coils of rope and avoiding scattered set-pieces that were half painted and half built. The bright white backstage lights were nothing compared to the colorful performance lights she was used to. She’d always thought theaters seemed too glamorous, so frivolous, and yet, there was exposed, dirty brick and sawdust everywhere. There wasn’t a luxurious velvet curtain in sight and instead it seemed little more than a warehouse with an audience.

It left her with an odd feeling of awareness, as if it was the first time she realized everything she’d seen on a stage really was just smoke and mirrors, sets and rigs and pulleys that made Peter Pan fly and Hamlet’s father rise from the grave. Seeing the lighting rigs bare overhead and the mess of lights and wires and rope on the stage made her feel a peculiar sensation, as if she was seeing something no one was ever meant to see.

“About six feet to the left!”

The shout pulled her out of her thoughts, and immediately reminded her that this was a place that posed an extreme danger for the both of them. The man who was shouting was a rotund man standing just below the stage, eyes on the two workers hanging a large American Flag from the rigging. He shook his head then caught sight of them, only looking slightly interested.

“You must be my headliners!” He gestured for their pinch-faced chauffeur to bring them down the stairs to him. He watched as Steve helped Peggy down the steep steps at the front of the stage with a hand, the raw wood wobbly. “Don’t worry about that,” he bellowed, “They may be unsteady, but they won’t be there for the show. Just while we’re getting the stage set up.” He shot a careful look over to where the men were hanging the flag, “It’s been busy around here since we got the rewrites.”

He held out his hand to Steve, “I’m Walter Pennington, Producer.”

“Steve Rogers,” He shook his hand, pulling back when he saw the man fight to keep a pleasant face at his strength. “And this is my wife, Peggy.”

Peggy knew right away what kind of man he was by the fact that he barely acknowledged her. No handshake, and barely even a nod. Instead, he kept his attention on Steve. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to being looked over, but rather that it always stung.

“Well, they weren’t lying that you’re strong,” Walter said, flexing his hand a few times. “That’s good.” He took another short glance at Peggy. “We were surprised you’d want to bring the little lady with you, never mind incorporate her into the show.” He laughed, “I’m even more shocked Brandt went for it.”

Steve glanced over at Peggy. Neither of them had been briefed on what, exactly, Brant had told the people who were making the show, and she realized that her nap today really was lost time. They had no story put together and would be making things up as they went- at least for today.

That was always dangerous territory.

“Well, we’re still newlyweds,” Steve managed the reply fairly quickly, pulling Peggy into his side. “How could I leave a gal like this back home?”

She felt Steve’s hand just barely tighten at her shoulder, and she could tell he was just as uncomfortable with the man’s suggestive gaze as she was. “I guess not,” Pennington finally mumbled, though Peggy was sure there was something else he wanted to say.

Walter cleared his throat and finally looked at her face, addressing her directly. “I suppose we can work you into a few of the singing numbers, though that’s really up to the director.”

“I don’t sing,” she declared, arching an eyebrow at the man. His clothes said high class but the way he leered at her proved he hadn’t had a proper upbringing.

“Well, then,” he looked her up and down again, not hiding it, “At least you’ll look good in the kick line.”

Peggy wished she could punch him, the way he looked at her reminiscent of far too many men who thought they were better than her. She could feel Steve tensing up beside her. “And I don’t dance.”

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Oh, you don’t, huh?” He leaned over to Steve, “What does she do?”

“Well, she…” Steve stuttered only for a second, thinking on his feet and smiling that boyish smile of his, “she’s swell at telling stories, pretty versatile, really, and just look at that smile!”

The producer turned his head back to her and she flashed him her best grin, trying her best to hide the disgust and sarcasm. “’Swell’ at telling stories?” He sighed. “I’m supposed to sell a great American hero who married a Brit?”

“I mean, we are allies,” Steve tried to rationalize.

Walter sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “What did Brandt think, you were going to stand on stage and smile? You might have a nice set of gams there, but that and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee.”

“I think you’ll find,” Peggy started loud, clear, and very American sounding, “that I can blend in quite well when necessary. I’m happy to affect any accent you’ll need for the stage, and do most anything except sing and dance.”

Walter looked up at Steve, obviously not used to being talked to in that manner by a woman, waiting for Steve to say something to her. Instead, he gave her a little squeeze and met the man’s confused gaze with a proud smirk. “That’s my girl!”

He wasn’t pleased, and he didn’t try to hide it. “Rehearsals start tomorrow, you’ll get your script then.”

“How long will we be here in rehearsals?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. Peggy wanted to know, too. They had woefully little information about the process.

“Three weeks of rehearsals then a soft opening run of four shows here. You open in DC for a week, then there’s a cross country schedule.” He tipped his head to their chauffeur who had stayed close. “Dave there will bring you to your hotel.”

Peggy almost smiled. Their pinch-faced man had a name. Dave.

“You need anything while you’re here, you ask Dave. Once you’re on the road, you’re on your own. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied, almost reflexively.

Walter looked him up and down once more. “Yeah, I think they’ll believe you belong in the army.” He turned away from them, mumbling as he left, “Damn government contract.”

Peggy had only the barest of moments to share a stunned look with Steve before they were interrupted by Dave, who stepped in front of them and motioned for them to follow him back through the audience.

~*~

Their hotel was not quite homey, but not quite bleak: two high towers full of rooms with a central connecting lobby filled with the dining room and common rooms. It was housing all the staff and performers for the show, most of whom, at least according to Dave, already knew each other from being on the performance circuit.

Steve unlocked their room, pocketing the key and swinging open the door wide. It wasn’t much: pale cream colors on the walls and faded floral bedsheets with matching curtains, a worn loveseat and a tiny table with two unsteady chairs. The bathroom was small, but having their own private one was a luxury.

“Not too bad,” Steve mused, walking around. He patted the tops of their trunks, sitting across from the bed. “How do you think they fared?”

“Well enough, I’m sure.” Peggy smiled just a little, eyes falling on the single bed. “Better than a tent on the front,” she mused.

He chuckled a little, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Very big upgrade,’ he agreed. “Should we unpack?”

Peggy held up her hand, her wife façade falling and the agent taking over, serious and stoic. She pulled a small black box from her purse and flicked a small button, moving it up and down as she slowly side stepped her way through the room. She slid it over the dresser and under the bed, in the small shower stall and behind the toilet. Finally, she sighed happily, clicking the box off and gesturing to the room. “Proceed.”

He didn’t move, but rather pointed to the box in her hand. “What was that?”

“One of Howard’s designs,” she held it up, admiring it with a small smile. She tapped the small, dark bulb on the end. “It lights up in the presence of an electronic listening device.”

Steve looked around the room, crestfallen that he had been so blindly trusting of their accommodations. “So… we’re good?”

“For bugs? Yes. Though the walls seem about as thick as a piece of parchment, so we should get used to keeping our voices down.”

His shoulders fell just a bit more as the whole thing became just a little more real to him. “You… you really think I’m in danger here?”

Her lips pressed tight as she looked up to him, she forced the tiniest of smiles. “I think that Colonel Phillips is one of the smartest men I’ve ever worked with, and despite his misgivings about you, he’s a keen judge of people. I also think that if the goal was to simply guard you or keep you safe, not only are there many other people besides myself who can do that job, it could be easily accomplished by putting you in a cell in Alamogordo. The Colonel has a great distrust of Senator Brandt, and made sure I was the one sent with you. Brandt didn’t make that pick, no matter how he tried to sell it- Phillips did. He told me himself.” She took a deep breath. “He had this show all ready for you to go in to without more than a day’s notice, and is a main suspect in how that Hydra Agent got past our defenses. Whatever’s going on, Phillips wasn’t just trusting anyone with this, and I’m not going to take any of it lightly.”

He was silent for a moment, taking in all he hadn’t known: that Phillips picked Peggy, not Brandt, and that Brandt was a suspect for being in cahoots with Hydra. “Thank you,” he finally whispered out, forcing himself to move on. “I guess… I guess we should get unpacked.”

Peggy shook her head, “Only the littlest bit. If we make it look like we’re living out of the trunks, it’s less suspicious that we’re not unpacking two of them.”

He nodded, undoing the straps on the top one and opened it, moving aside to let Peggy see the artillery had made it safe and sound. “We should put these on the bottom, I think, and ours on top so it’ll be harder for anyone to snoop.”

Peggy smiled up at him, proud. “Thinking like a spy already!” She reached in and pulled out a small handgun and a little filled canvas bag. “That should do for now, make sure those straps are tight.”

Peggy set her bounty on the counter and moved to the second trunk as Steve tightened the straps and moved it deeper in the room, setting it in the back corner, then grabbing another trunk and stacking it on top of it. Peggy pulled out a pair of retractable batons and the boxes of clothes Howard had sent with them, setting those on the counter as well. When she turned back, Steve was at the edge of the bed, holding a small, wrapped package, looking more than a little bashful.

“I, uh…” he laughed nervously, looking down at his toes. “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but uh, seems corny now.”

“What is it?” Peggy asked softly, taking a small step closer and fighting to keep her hands from fidgeting in the folds of her skirt.

Steve turned red, but met her eyes with a big smile that reminded her of the one she’d seen on him at the beginning of basic training. “A wedding present.”

She swallowed, hard. “I… I haven’t gotten you anything.” The retort seemed silly, even to her ears, but it somehow relaxed him.

“I didn’t expect you to. I just…” He shrugged and stepped forward, holding it out. “Here.”

She took it in her hands, soft and light, and let her fingers run over the brown paper wrapping and the little blue ribbon bow around it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a properly wrapped present. She realized she was taking her time, and looked up at him, smiling. “Thank you,” she almost whispered, still surprised.

He shoved his hands back in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears. Slowly she pulled at the bow, and separated the paper to reveal a piece of black fabric that looked suspiciously like a garter belt, but with a little more fabric to it. She looked up at him, his cheeks slowly burning red with embarrassment. “A garter?”

“It’s- it’s a holster.” He reached out one hand, almost touching it, then pulling back. “Or it’s supposed to be, anyway.” He cleared his throat and fought for composure. “After you left Howard’s lab yesterday he mentioned that his butler’s wife was a seamstress and had done the majority of the sewing for the… stuff he gave you.” Peggy fought to not laugh at how cute he was, struggling around the topic. “Anyway, he seemed to think there was some left, so I asked if she could make you something nice. Anna seemed to think you’d find this more useful.”

That caught her up short, even as she pulled the holster up to look at it. “She knows?”

Steve shrugged. “I was as surprised as you are, but apparently all she knows is that the fabric Howard gave her is supposed to be a lighter version of armor, and she figured if you’d need armor you’d need this.” One side of his lips turned up. “Sounded like a good idea, to me.”

Peggy smiled. The holster was genius: made out of the same protective fabric that the stockings and slips were made of, it would lay extremely flat against her thigh and the flap at the top would keep the shape from being too conspicuous. She’d been worried how she was going to keep a firearm on her when she needed to be on stage, and this had just made it very, very easy. “This is wonderful, Steve. Thank you.”

“You like it?” He sounded like a hopeful little boy.

Peggy bent over and slid it up her leg, reaching out and settling the small handgun she’d pulled from the trunk in it. “I love it!” She let her skirt fall back over her legs, and noticed that he’d looked away while her bare thigh was on display. She spun, letting the skirt settle. “Can you tell it’s there?”

He looked, swallowing as he stared at her legs. “Uh, no. No, I can’t.”

She smiled brightly. “Then it’s perfect.”

~*~

Peggy felt better with the gun nestled against her thigh as they walked down to the lobby. With the entirety of the show’s cast and crew staying at the hotel, they were providing breakfast and dinner each day. Steve and Peggy stopped at the double doors of the small banquet room, watching the people, most of whom seemed to know one another, hustle around the large buffet and bounce from table to table, chatting.

“Not too much different from the mess, I guess.” Steve mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeves. The civilian clothes he changed into fit him tight across the shoulders, almost too tight, and the pants were too big by at least two sizes. Most of the clothes he brought with him needed tailoring, badly, but they were all he could piece together on short notice.

He’d only had this physique for less than a week, after all, and none of his old clothes fit. Even the socks were too small.

Peggy slipped her arm through his, setting them forward. “Stay close, please.”

“Not a problem,” he mumbled, trying to force smiles as they moved through the room. It was easy enough, stepping in line and filling plates. No one questioned that they were supposed to be there as everyone was enthralled in their own dinner conversations. Peggy struggled to split her attention, eyeing each performer in the room, looking for someone whose gaze lingered just a little too long or whose eyebrows knit a little too deeply, while trying to decide what to eat. Apparently, rationing wasn’t quite as bad here as it was in London, and nowhere near what it had been on the front lines. Bowls and platters were full of chicken and mashed potatoes and rolls and butter and there were little cakes at the end of the line that made her do a double take.

She hadn’t seen a proper dessert in months.

“Bloody Nora,” she mumbled, trying to keep from letting her eyes pile more than she could eat on her plate.

“Yeah, it’s a good spread,” Steve whispered beside her, not being shy about piling his plate high. “Better than rations, huh?”

She carefully picked out just one of the little finger cakes at the end of the table and looked up at him, astounded. “Does everyone in America eat like this?”

“This?” He laughed a little, taking his own cake and then following her to a corner where there was a free table. “No. This is pretty extravagant.” He set his plate down, noticing she set them in the corner, where they’d both have a good line of vision to keep nearly the whole dining room in view. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. Water? Tea?”

“Water, please” she replied, still a little shell shocked. She watched him take the few steps to another table and fill two tall glasses and she unfurled her napkin and revealed the silverware that had been waiting for them on the table. The room still buzzed, but she could see that it was with a jovial familiarity. People were talking like old friends, making new friends, smiling and laughing.

The mood, and the food, was a far cry from the front she’d grown used to during her time with the SSR. She wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. It certainly made her anxious.

Steve slid in across from her, setting her glass down. He smiled and pulled out his silverware, taking no time before tucking into his food. He stopped a few bites in when he realized she hadn’t started. He hurriedly wiped his mouth like a little kid and sat up tall. “Did… did you want to say grace or something?”

“No, sorry,” Peggy lifted her fork and tried to smile. “Just… people watching, I suppose.”

He started eating again, this time a little slower, with his eyes on her more often. “Did you… notice anything?”

Peggy swallowed and dabbed at her lips, moving her peas around her plate with the fork. “No, which bothers me.” She sighed quietly, leaning in towards him, “I’m used to knowing more about the situations I’m headed into. We know nothing about these people. I don’t even know who could be lying about who they are because I don’t have any dossiers on them at all.”

“Brandt didn’t give you any of that stuff?” Steve asked, his eyebrow knitting as he speared a piece of chicken.

She shook her head, chewing a forkful of potatoes thoughtfully. “I suppose I could get their bios and headshots somehow, but it still gives us little to go on.”

Steve tapped the fork against his lips, looking around. “What if… what if it’s not anyone here?” He turned back to her. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be an audience member?”

Peggy sipped on her water, nodding. “Could do, yeah.” She looked around, too, picking at her chicken that had seemed so appetizing just a few minutes ago. “Easy in and out. But if it were me? Someone in the show would be invaluable.”

“Like you,” Steve mumbled, looking at his plate and shoving a big forkful in his lips before he could say anymore.

Peggy’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could reply, a shadow slid over them. They both looked up to a bright, smiling face. “So, you must be the guy?”

“Excuse me?” Steve swallowed hard.

“Like, the guy, right? As in Mister Captain America?” She smiled and pulled the chair behind her up to the table. “I’m Angie,” she held out her hand, waiting for Steve to take it.

“Steve.” His handshake was tentative, but that didn’t seem to deter her.

She turned right away and held it out to Peggy, too. “And you must be the Missus!”

“Peggy,” she swallowed the mouthful of food she’d forgotten about, pulling her free hand to cover her mouth as she shook Angie’s hand. “Sorry, you surprised me.”

“Me?” Angie chuckled, eyes wide as she looked Peggy over. “You’re the surprise!” She let her voice drop, telling Peggy a secret she knew Steve could hear. “I mean, I was cast as Betty Carver, so I was a little disappointed when I heard I was getting dropped down to feature.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face fall when neither she nor Steve seemed to react to that. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to know who that is?” Peggy shrugged, trying to play it off as being dim. “We haven’t been given a script yet.”

Angie’s face went from disappointed to outraged. “You haven’t been…” Her mouth worked in disbelief as she looked between the two of them. “Who is your agent? We’ve all had the songs and script for weeks now!”

Peggy felt the sentence hit her like a punch in the gut: whatever Brandt had been planning, it had been going on for weeks, not days. Though they’d both known this couldn’t have been put together in the last few days, the realization that there was already a plan to center around some ultra-strong American hero bothered her deeply. She tried hard not to react to the plain panic in Steve’s eyes while Angie’s face was still on her. She made a snap decision, and decided the more honest they were, the better. “Agent? Why- the US Army, of course!”

Angie laughed, brushing Peggy’s comment away with her hand. “You’re funny! No- come on- tell me so we can help you guys get it all straightened out!” Angie’s smile faded as she watched Peggy’s straight face barely move. “Wait- you’re- you’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“But- this… this is a show. Why would the Army…” She looked between the two of them, truly confused.

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in. “There, uh, was an accident.” He looked down, and kept his eyes averted in a way that Peggy knew meant he was uncomfortable with what he was doing. “I couldn’t serve the way I wanted to, and some of the higher ups thought that this might be the best place for me.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face as she shifted uncomfortably. The young woman clearly hadn’t been prepared for what she thought was an injured veteran before her. Peggy reached out and took Steve’s hand, letting her thumb rub over the knuckle. “We’re very lucky to be here right now,” she nearly whispered, proud of how he’d managed to play his role.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Angie, for her part, was now mortified, hands covering her mouth as she looked at the two of them. “You’re… wait- are you really married, too? I thought I just got re-cast!”

“What?” Peggy’s head swung around quickly.

“Betty Carver was supposed to be the love interest- the home front girlfriend of Captain America.” She rolled her eyes, talking out loud to herself. “I mean, I was thrown for a loop when I came over here and you were English! Couldn’t figure out why they’d recast the home front girl with an English gal, but…” She softened and turned, smiling genuinely. “Well, I guess it all makes a lot more sense, now.” She looked over at Steve. “You were really a soldier?”

He nodded, and Peggy pushed forward with the charade, skirting the line of reality as close as she could. “It’s how we met.”

Angie’s smile melted even further. “That’s so sweet. I wish I had a guy to write.” She shrugged, and switched gears quickly. “So, wait- you mean you’re really fresh out of the Army, no script or nothin’?”

“Nothin,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, you stick with me. I’ll show you the ropes, introduce you to everyone. Most of us have been taking gigs together for years now. After a while rehearsing and once we’re on the road we’ll be one big family.”

~*~

“I can sleep on the floor,” Steve said warmly, feeling gallant as he took a pillow from the bed even though he was drained from the way Angie had dragged them around the dining room, introducing them to nearly the entire cast.

Peggy pulled it from his hands and tossed it back on the bed. “Absolutely not.” Steve only knitted his brow at her. “The windows face the other side of the hotel. Even with the curtains drawn you can still see shapes. Plus, now that Angie’s introduced us around, I doubt she, or any of them really, will be too shy about stopping by. One overly nosy chorus girl sees you on the floor and starts talking and our cover is blown.”

Steve wasn’t convinced, and looked nervous now. “Still, I didn’t want to—"

“My modesty will survive if yours will.” She set her hands on her hips and looked at him, finding herself tired and frustrated after the afternoon they’d had. “One overly eager bell boy or maid comes in and finds you out of the bed, and we’re in the gossip mill. One wrong word to the wrong person, and this all goes south, you know that.”

He grabbed the pillow back from the bed, just as obstinate. “I don’t sleep that much anyway, it won’t bother me, Peg.”

Peggy shook her head, closing the tiny amount of space between them. “You and me, together against the world, right? But let’s get one thing straight, shall we? My official mission is to make sure you don’t get killed. If you die, I’ve failed,” she paused and smiled proudly, “and I never fail. Even more so than that,” she sighed, her eyes turning softer, “I’m quite fond of you, and I would very much appreciate you not dying.”

“Fond?” Steve nearly squeaked out.

Peggy smiled. Perhaps they’d been dancing about this too much, because his shock, after everything they’d said to each other this afternoon, was not the response she expected to her words. “Yes. Fond. So much so, in fact, that I might even let you take me on a date once this is all over.”

Steve flustered, surprised as he stuttered out, “D-date?” He cleared his throat and composed himself, nodding and looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, yeah. No. I’d love to take you out.” He took a breath and slowed himself down. “I’m… fond, too.”

Peggy smiled, turning her back, ignoring that he turned a deep shade of red. “Affection aside, we need to be comfortable with one another in public for strategic purposes: holding hands, casual touches, even kissing.” He’d very nearly gotten himself under control when she said that and she could see how hard he fought to keep his face from turning red again as she pulled the pillow from his hand, gentler this time. “When people see us, they need to believe we’re a couple, no matter if we love one another or can’t stand each other. Understood?”

He nodded swiftly.

She tossed the pillow down. “Now get in bed.”

He stared blankly at her for a second before sitting on the side of the bed, still fully dressed. “Did you… want to go to bed?” He asked cautiously.

She huffed, sitting heavily next to him. “No,” she admitted. “We need to talk this through. We can’t afford to get the details messed up. We came close a few times today already.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I tried to keep it as close to what really happened as I could, so we couldn’t mess it up, but—”

“No, that was good.” Peggy kicked off her heels and slid back on the bed, tucking her legs under her. “The closer we keep it to reality, the less details we have to remember. But the timeline is off. It’ll be what gets us caught.”

“Because according to the papers we were married before we even met.”

“Exactly.” She nibbled at her thumbnail, turning away to think. “And you were on the European Front. We need to figure out just exactly what your accident was, once these people get comfortable with us—”

“Angie’s already quite comfortable,” Steve mumbled.

Peggy hummed in agreement before continuing, “Once they get more comfortable, they’re not going to hold their questions for long. And it isn’t as if you’ve got anything overtly wrong that would take you off the front lines.”

Steve nodded. “They’re keeping every able-bodied soldier out there. It’s gotta be convincing.”

“Well, we should be able to fend off questions at least for a bit.” Peggy shifted, looking him over seriously.

Steve squirmed under her gaze. “What?”

“Just thinking,” she sighed, forcing her eyes to his. “If you were in your old body, we’d have no trouble passing you off as discharged.”

His laugh was somewhat self-deprecating. “If I were in my old body we wouldn’t be here.”

Peggy looked him over again, her eyes very pointedly popping up from the bed they were both sitting on once her gaze rested there. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

His jaw fell, more out of surprise than anything, and he was even more surprised to see a bright red tint start to shade in around Peggy’s cheeks. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Goodness only knows how people get places, yes?” she asked quickly, pushing through the heavy seriousness that had fallen over them both. She stood, pacing with newfound energy as she tried to halt the images of just what they could do in a bed together. “What if you were in your old body? What could we say was the reason?”

Steve switched trains of thought with her easily, shrugging and curling over, so reminiscent of the frail boned boy he’d once been. “Gosh, take your pick. I’ll start with the A’s: anemia, asthma, angina, all kinds a’ scrawny… then there’s the scoliosis, high blood pressure, constant sinus infections. I had scarlet fever, then rheumatic fever…. Nothing ever felt the same after that.” He almost jumped when he looked up to see she’d managed to creep so close to him that she was leaning in only inches away from his face, staring, fascinated. “What?”

The amazed look on her face never faltered. “How did you ever manage Basic Training?”

He laughed nervously, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shrugged. “You were there. You know I barely made it through most of the time.”

Her amazement shifted to pride. “Sheer force of will, I imagine, was the only thing between you and collapsing on that field.”

“Probably more often than you’d know.”

Peggy stood slowly and resumed her pacing. “Asthma would work.”

“They catch that right away. No hiding it. I never would have made it past the recruitment center. In fact, there were five times I didn’t.” She hummed, leaning back on her trunk, still looking him over. Steve tried no to hide from her intense gaze. “You know, that’s getting a little…”

Peggy turned her eyes down, shaking her head. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” She looked back up and smiled. “Seems Erskin’s serum worked a bit too well.”

~*~

Peggy stepped out of the bathroom, pin curls hidden under her kerchief, face scrubbed clean with just a light sheen of moisturizer on, her robe covering the only nightgown she had. She smiled when she saw Steve’s back, his face turned carefully away as he sat on his side of the bed. “You can look, you know.”

“I, uh,” as he cleared his throat she could see the pink creeping up his neck, “I didn’t want to presume.”

“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing scandalous about me without my make-up or with my hair pinned for the night.” She carefully sat on her side of the bed, smiling as his shoulders tensed when he felt the mattress move. “Though I am in a nightgown, I wasn’t allowed to keep the army-issued pajamas.” He slowly turned, looking over, relaxing a little once he saw her. “What?” She chuckled, “Was that all that bad?”

“I just… I didn’t want to presume…”

“You said that already,” she smiled, unable to see anything else but the stammering 98-pound man across from her in the back of the car.

“I know, but it seemed…” he huffed, shrugging.

“You’re not scandalized?” she teased.

He smiled softly. “You look like my Ma.” Her eyes widened and he threw his hands up, rushing to explain. “No, I just, I thought you’d be- I don’t know, more- but not like- no, and then I turned and you were just- normal.” His hands started flying and his eyes darted back and forth as he panicked, words spilling from his lips that didn’t make any of his stuttering confessions better. “But no, not like that. Not normal. You’re pretty. I just assumed you’d be more since I imagined—not that I want more, you’re enough. But I saw you like that with the kerchief and that was just how my Ma used to do her hair and—” His eyes widened comically large, “No! I do not think of my Ma like that. Not that I did or would, but I thought of you like that—”

“You have?” she interrupted, completely amused and charmed at his stammering.

“I have!” He announced, proud, before he realized what he’d said, his face falling again and the stammering resuming. “No, it’s just that, I respect you. A lot. And you’re gorgeous. And we are married, but not for real so then I shouldn’t—”

“Steve!” Peggy smiled, put a hand on his. “Breathe!” He stopped his disjointed rant, looking at her and finally taking a deep breath in, eyes wild with pleading for understanding. “It’s alright. I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Good,” he chuckled, turning more completely to her, “because I sure don’t.”

Peggy laughed lightly, taking her hands from his. “I believe I have an unfair advantage here as I’ve already seen you without your shirt, and ladies do tend to have quite a few tricks up their sleeves.”

He looked sheepish, swinging his pajama clad legs on the bed, eyes focused on his threadbare undershirt. “I’ve heard fellas say that they’ve seen their girls without make-up and their hair done and they look completely different. Made them not want to date them.”

Peggy shrugged her robe off, setting it on the chair next to the bed. Her nightgown wasn’t exactly revealing, she had dresses with lower necklines, but it was thinned from use and age and she didn’t have another. His eyes traveled her form, and she pretended not to notice as she pulled down the blanket and slipped into the bed. “And do I?”

“No.” He smiled, turning away to click off the lamp to hide his expression. “You’re…” he looked down, trying to pick his words carefully, “just as beautiful.”

Peggy bit her lip, unsure of how to respond as he slipped in the bed, the pillow between them separating their sides. “That’s a kind assessment,” she finally whispered into the darkness.

“It’s the truth,” he whispered back. “Good night, Peggy,” he added gently, looking over the pillow that separated them, the compromise they’d made to keep him off the floor and somehow save her virtue.

“Good night, Steve,” she whispered back, completely sure she’d have quite the difficult time sleeping now that she knew that unlike Fred, he didn’t seem to mind her as she looked not so done up.

#SteggyWeek23 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic #@roboticonography #Once a year is a valid update schedule I swear

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