obsessedwitheverything05

[obsessedwitheverything05]

art prints ♡

[obsessedwitheverything05]

thunderbolts as a concept is hilarious to me lmfao like imagine your DAD is a part of your friend group

[obsessedwitheverything05]

Propaganda I'm falling for:

[obsessedwitheverything05]

The second part of my Ghostwalker fic! I just love writing them :)

(p.s. the song they're listening to is "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King... at least in my head it is)

Comfortable Silence

The first thing John noticed was the silence. The floor, which they deemed the communal space, was always buzzing with noise. Alexei's awful Russian music, Yelena's sitcoms that no one ever watched but played regardless, the clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen as someone prepared a meal, or Bucky aggressively typing on his computer (he was always on that damn computer, yet no one had a clue what he was doing. they theorized he was working on one singular email and it just took him forever to type). But as the elevator slid closed, not a sound greeted him. He made his way to the kitchen, casting wary glances as if one of his teammates were going to spontaneously appear in front of him. On the kitchen island, he found a note scrawled in Yelena's messy handwriting: 

Bob and I gone for the weekend. Alexei doing taxi things. Bucky at Sam's? Don't burn the place down. 

He replaced the note on the counter. If they were all gone, that meant it was just him and-

Ava. 

As soon as the recognition hit, Ava stepped wordlessly out of the elevator, like his thoughts had somehow summoned her. She looked around, seemingly confused as he was at the quiet enveloping the tower. It was a moment before she spotted him standing alone in the kitchen.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, "It's so quiet in here. It's weird."

"They're all... out, I guess. Yelena and Bob are gone for the weekend, Alexei is at the taxi convention he wouldn't stop talking about, and I guess Bucky's with Sam." He slid the note across the counter to her. She glanced at it, brow furrowed.

"We have the tower to ourselves, I guess," John said, unable to meet Ava's eyes. He waited for her to drop a sarcastic comment, but she didn't. Instead, she asked:

"What happened to the flowers?"

"What?"

"The flowers that were on the counter. Where did they go?"

"I- uh, threw them away. They had all wilted anyway."

"Oh."

John finally glanced up at Ava. She was twisting her hands together almost like she was... nervous? She was nervous? Was he making her nervous? Before he had time to spiral down that rabbit hole, Ava spoke.

"I liked the flowers. They were... pretty but... badass." Their eyes met, and she gave him a lopsided smile. His brain stopped functioning. Her smile widened as she noticed the flush creeping into his face. 

"Well, got to take advantage of having the tower all to ourselves. I guess I'll see you around, Walker." Ava shrugged as she turned and phased out of the room. 

John was frozen in place, brain sputtering like a faulty engine. The flowers. She had noticed the flowers. She liked the flowers. And she knew the flowers were from him. How could she not? Yelena had given him so much shit about him buying flowers for the tower that the whole city of New York probably knew at this point. But that didn't matter. Ava had seen the flowers from him and said she liked them. She even seemed sad that they were gone. John knew what he had to do. No matter how much shit Yelena gave him, it was worth it. Ava liked his flowers. 

Later, with a fresh bouquet sitting in a vase on the counter, John was having a crisis over dinner. He had gotten enough food for the both of them, but couldn't bring himself to go ask Ava to join him for dinner. It would be too date-y, just the two of them. Wouldn't it be? Or was it normal? Just two teammates eating together because no one else was home? He had no clue. 

Finally, after a couple of glasses of whiskey, John decided to go ask. It was the nice thing to do since he was cooking anyway. Totally normal to offer food to a friend. He stepped into the elevator and punched the button for Ava's floor. Bob had made a color-coded map of the entire tower, so there was no confusion. Not that he needed the help. He knew her floor well, not that he would ever admit it. The elevator arrived at her floor too quickly. He stepped cautiously into the hallway. He was starting to regret his choice. He was being too forward. It was weird, barging into her space. He could've just texted her like a normal person. He was about to turn and make his escape when Ava peeked her head out of the doorway of what he assumed was her room. 

"Hello? Can I help you?"

John swallowed hard. He was trapped now. There was no other reason he could claim he was on her floor. 

"I- uh- was wondering... if you wanted to join me for dinner? I mean, not join me but,  I'm already cooking and there's enough for the both of us, so I just thought I could offer- but it's totally fine if you don't want to, I don't care, I just didn't want it to go to waste..."

He trailed off, silently cursing himself for babbling like an idiot. For the second time that day, Ava smiled at him. 

"Sure, sounds good. I don't have any plans. I'll join you in the kitchen in a minute?"

"Oh yeah, sure, take your time! I'll head back up there. It shouldn't take long." He awkwardly turned and stepped into the elevator, very intently pressing the button for the top floor so he didn't have to look at her again. He quickly got to work preparing the food. He had gotten the stuff to make a simple pasta dish—nothing fancy, but something everyone liked.

He enjoyed cooking. It kept his mind and his hands busy and helped him relax. He had unofficially taken the role of the team chef. No one else could cook as well as him. He was deep in the zone, humming along to the music he had put on, whisking away at the sauce when he glanced up to find Ava standing quietly, watching him. 

"Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing there? And how are you so quiet?" he yelped. She had managed to scare the shit out of him yet again.

"I just got here," Ava said, smoothly hopping onto a barstool. "And you do remember I'm called ghost for a reason, right? Creeping up on people is my specialty."

"Well, it freaks me out. I don't like being jump scared." 

She rolled her eyes at that. 

"Whatcha making us, Walker?" Her tone was light and teasing, but he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up when she noticed the new vase of flowers sitting on the edge of the counter.

"Just some pasta alla vodka. Nothing fancy," he said, trying hard to keep his face neutral while he internally did cartwheels at her reaction to his flowers. 

"It smells good." She phased through to the other side of the counter, coming to stand beside him to get a better look at the dish. Her arm lightly brushed against his, and she didn't move it away. He tried to ignore how the faint touch felt like being struck by lightning or how she smelled like coconut and clean sheets. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it too. Then the moment was gone. She stepped away to grab plates from the cabinet and pour herself a glass of wine. 

They ate together in comfortable silence, side by side at the kitchen counter. The only sound came from the clinking of forks and the quiet music still playing from John's phone. They were done far too quickly. Ava offered to do the dishes since he had cooked, despite his repeatedly saying he didn't mind doing them. She was too stubborn to accept his offer, but let him dry and put the dishes away. They continued to work in silence until Ava suddenly froze. 

"You okay?" John asked, worried something was wrong."

Instead of answering, she phased over to his phone, grabbed it, then phased back, brandishing it at him like a weapon.

"Can you turn it up?"

"What?" He felt vaguely threatened.

"Turn the volume up? I love this song." She handed him the phone. He obliged, turning the volume up and starting the song over. She beamed at him. 

"I love this song."

"So you've said." 

She rolled her eyes at him with no real annoyance. She closed her eyes, swaying to the music, a genuine smile lighting up her face. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. He didn't know what came over him, but in a moment of confidence (or blatant stupidity), he reached out and took her hand. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she pulled him closer and used their interlocked hands to spin herself around. His other hand found her waist. They swayed slowly around the kitchen, spinning and dipping. 

John couldn't remember the last time he danced with anyone, but here he was, dancing in the kitchen with Ava Starr, of all people. It was perfect. She was smiling ear to ear, eyes closed, mouthing along to the words. He wished he could stay in this moment forever. Bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, dancing around the kitchen with the most beautiful girl in the world in his arms.

[obsessedwitheverything05]

[obsessedwitheverything05]

[obsessedwitheverything05]

Finally 50 fics in the ghostwalker tag

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the russos have committed so many sins but i might just forgive them if they have bucky in this wig for doomsday

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ma'am, I'm going to place you on a brief hold while I look for a reaction image

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The plot of thunderbolts in one image

[obsessedwitheverything05]

I can't get Ghostwalker out of my head, so I wrote this. There is a severe lack of fics about them, so here is my meager contribution! I hope you enjoy :)

The Art of Noticing

No one would say John was an observant person. He was never given surveillance duty because he simply wasn't good at it. He was too impatient, too distracted, too irritable. Despite his less-than-functional surveillance skills, John could read people well. At least, he thought so. He noticed things more easily than the others. The way Bob slouched less and smiled more when Yelena was around. The way Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose when he was frustrated (which was often). The way Alexei always prepared eggs just so for Yelena. He noticed his teammates' little habits. These things helped him understand them– their strengths and weaknesses.

The only member he could never seem to get a grasp on was Ava. She certainly lived up to her phantom namesake. She haunted him, in a way. Managed to get under his skin. She was like an itch that you could never seem to scratch and always lingered. He could never seem to fully get her out of his head. The way she tilted her head just slightly when she smiled. How she perched on furniture, like a bird ready to take flight at any moment. How she could sling insults at him without blinking an eye. He hated how she managed to get in his head. He hated how he noticed every time she entered or exited a room. He told himself he was just trying to understand her better and that was all. The feeling in his chest when she smiled at him was just confusion and adrenaline. And when he found himself wandering around her floor of the tower at night, when he couldn't sleep, it was simply because he walked every other floor of the tower too. 

On one of his late-night strolls, he stumbled across a room he had never noticed before. A soft yellow glow seeped from the crack at the bottom of the door. He cautiously pushed the door open, telling himself he wasn't snooping, just peeking in to see why the light was on. He was greeted with a wave of humidity as he opened the door. The room had been turned into a mini greenhouse of sorts. The light he had seen came from an array of lamps positioned carefully over a variety of vibrant flowers and lush green plants. He stepped farther into the room, intrigued by the mini jungle thriving in this forgotten corner of the tower. 

"If you leave the door open, you'll let all the warm air out."

John nearly jumped out of his skin as he whipped around in shock. Ava was leaning on the doorframe, smirking at him.

"I- what?" he stammered, seemingly unable to form a coherent thought as Ava stared at him. Seeing her out of her suit was a shock, and her too-large t-shirt left her bare shoulder exposed. She looked so soft in the warm light, hair slightly rumpled and socks bunched around her ankles. 

"I said if you leave the door open, you'll let all the hot air out, which ruins the humidity levels," Ava repeated, annoyance in her voice. She stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind her. 

"Are these yours?" he asked, absolutely baffled by the idea that Ava spent time caring for a bunch of silly plants. 

"Um, yes? I know it may shock you, Walker, but I do have hobbies."

"I guess I never really pinned you as the nurturing type. Bob, maybe, but you?"

"Oh, well, that's rich coming from you, of all people. Remind me, who has custody of your kid?"

Ouch. Ava certainly knew how to shut him up. It was silent for a moment. They glared at each other, both waiting for the other to add the next snide comment. Instead, John sighed. 

"Touché, Ghost Lady. I just didn't see you as a flower person. Cactuses? Maybe. But flowers?" She narrowed her eyes at him again. 

"And what's that supposed to mean?"  Shit. He had backed himself against another wall. 

"Um, well, I just meant that... cactuses are more, like, badass, because they're all spiky and don't need a lot of care. Flowers are, you know, kind of flimsy... but they're not all that way... I guess flowers are badass too..." He awkwardly scratched his neck and looked around before glancing at Ava. She was... smiling? Smiling at him? 

"Ok, Walker. I don't know what the hell you're rambling about," she said, amusement in her voice. He finally looked back at her. Her eyes glittered with laughter and... something he couldn't quite place. He felt himself getting flustered again. 

"Uh... I can... leave now," he stammered out. “I don't want to mess anything up. Like you said, I'm not the nurturing type," he said, with a self-deprecating shrug. He moved towards the door, expecting Ava to step aside. She didn't. He froze. Instead, she stepped closer. His brain was malfunctioning. He could smell the slightly coconut scent of her shampoo. She looked up at him. He thought he might keel over. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice barely audible over the hum of the lights and humidifiers. She looked down, twisting the hem of her shirt nervously in her hands. "I... I shouldn't have said that about you being a bad father. I'm sure you're a great father, John. I just got... carried away."

It felt like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. He had never heard her say his name before. And she was apologizing to him? What the hell was going on? This must be a dream or a hallucination or something. Before he could react, she was reaching out, giving his arm a quick squeeze, then opening the door to leave.

"Good night, John."

She was gone before he could manage a desperate "Wait-"

He left the room right after, closing the door behind him and making his way to his bedroom, mind still reeling. He replayed the brief interaction over and over, unable to get her voice saying his name out of his head. 

The next time he went to the grocery store, he picked up a bouquet of flowers and placed them in the communal kitchen. His ghost liked flowers, after all.