#i feel like i can’t send somebody a bunch of loose cards but i also don’t have a deck to put them in. but would people want my crappy
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WE LOVED WITH A LOVE THAT WAS MORE THAN LOVE || STEVE ROGERS
pairing: Steve Rogers x black!reader ; minor pairings: peter parker x michelle “mj” jones, andy barber x black!reader, sam wilson x black!reader, ransom drysdale x black!reader, bucky barnes x black!reader || word count: 19,080 || warnings: smut, sex, gang bang/multiple sex partners m/m/m/m/m/f, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), biting, marking, anal sex, hand job, nipple play, cult-like gathering, mentions of voodoo, voodoo lore, cult rituals
authors note: it’s here! took me forever. i wanted to post this much earlier, but the election week threw me off my schedule so this got pushed because i had another deadline to meet for another challenge. this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor once upon a midnight dreary challenge! i chose “believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see”, an invitation to a stranger’s party, and a cultish gathering for my prompts. again, i got a little help from my girl @tropicalcap in helping me piece together a few plot points.
just a quick note :: steve never goes into the ice and the government doesn’t give him the serum... his transformation is achieved in a different manner. therefore, bucky’s transformation is also a little different than canon.
manip of peter & mj by sidewalk manips (i think they’re on instagram... not sure, i found it on google) // divider by @whimsicalrogers
MONDAY
The ornate envelope in your hand is heavy. It’s decorated with thin, gold leaf, hand drawn designs, almost resembling the intricate henna leaves. Your name is scrolled across the front in big, black Old English calligraphy— hand written as well; you can just tell. You flip it over in your hand, the weight of it making a soft thud when it rests against the heel of your palm. A red wax seal is pressed against the flap and the back of the envelope, two initials carved deep— S.G.R.
Flipping the envelope back over in your hand, you press your lips together in a hard line. Junk mail is getting really fancy now-a-days. You blink at the front, reading and then rereading your name. A tinge of something— you’re not sure what, pulls at your stomach, making it constrict as your breath deepens harder than before. You even stop walking. You just stare at the envelope, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth as you blink down at it.
It’s just unsettling. The weight of it, the attention to the little details of the writing and the designs. It’s anything but junk mail, but the tiny shards of anxiety that are prickling up against your skin don’t want you to think too much into it.
You shove it to the back of the pile of mail in your hand and continue flipping through it as you walk down the hallway towards your apartment, your purse bouncing against your hip as you move. Once inside, you throw the mail down first, then your keys, before you turn on your heel and move towards your bedroom, already tugging out of your blouse.
-
The TV is nothing more than background noise at this point. You’re curled up on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and a glass of red wine in your left hand as your eyes flit across the screen of your iPad. You scroll slowly with your right index finger, gobbling up a Stucky fic on ao3. Your eyes widen at the written words before you, your mouth dropping open as your heart starts to beat just a little harder— you’d die if anyone at work ever found out that you spend your free time reading about Bucky Barnes getting his back blown out by Captain America— but nobody told them to be so attractive. It’s their fault, really.
There’s a heavy knock at the door, but you don’t budge. You just push back against the pillows and keep your eyes on the illuminated screen as the door opens, “Take your shoes off.” A heavy sigh greets your ears seconds later, drawing a smile onto your lips as you throw your eyes quickly towards your little sister, “House rule.”
She rolls her eyes hard and toes at her sneakers— making sure to kick them up against the wall so the thuds rumble through the apartment— you know, for added drama. She pulls her bag over her head and drops it to the floor before padding across the carpet and plopping down next to you.
“You readin’ the one I sent you?” she asks, grabbing the popcorn out of your lap, “Can we order a pizza?”
“Yes and yes.” You answer absentmindedly as your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at the smut on your screen, “MJ!”
She laughs, scrunching up her nose as she pops some popcorn into her mouth and nods slowly as she focuses on the tv, “I told you it was nasty.”
“You didn’t say it was this nasty, good God.”
The younger woman scoffs as she throws her loose, wavy hair over her shoulder, “But you steady readin’ it though.”
You cut your eyes towards her, “I didn’t say that I don’t like nasty, just that it’s nasty. I think I have a coupon up on the counter for Tony’s if you wanna order now.” MJ is up on her feet as soon as the words leave your mouth, “Get some bread sticks too.”
The rummaging MJ does in the kitchen blurs with the screams from the television as you start to read again, losing yourself quickly back in the BDSM world the author has so vividly painted. You leave a kudos and a quick comment before tossing your iPad to the side and lift your eyes to your sister again, blinking as you find her leaning up against the counter, the weird envelope in her hand.
“The fuck is this?” she asks, her lip snarled, eyes squinted as she turns it over in her hand, “Why’s it so heavy?”
“I don’t know,” you laugh a little, “I got it in the mail today. It gives me the creeps.”
MJ moves around the coffee table and falls next to you again, tossing the coupon at you before sliding her finger underneath the flap. You grab her wrist before she goes to open it, tutting softly, “Don’t. Just leave it.”
“Why?”
“Because! I’m gonna throw it out.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m opening it.”
“Come on MJ—”
She slides her finger underneath the flap before you can stop her again, breaking the wax seal in two. You huff as she pulls out the 5x7 piece of heavy cardstock, then tips the envelope to lodge whatever was weighing it down free. A brooch falls into her palm, both of you leaning up to inspect the intricate piece of jewelry. It’s floral in design— pearls, or what look like pearls, placed strategically between the little, diamond encrusted, platinum leaves. Three pearls are bunched in the middle— the center of the flower, with three larger diamonds outlining them.
“Holy shit, is this real?” MJ asks, lifting it up and turning it over, “Holy fuckin’ shit.”
You shake your head, “It can’t be. There’s no way.”
“It looks real.”
“No,” you scoff, waving her off, “It’s costume.”
She shoves it into your palm, “Feel that thing! It’s heavy as fuck, that ain’t costume jewelry.”
You furrow your brow as you let it sit in your palm, feeling it. It looks old— really old, like something that would have been worn back in the 1800s. You flip it over, bringing it up to your face as you spot another set of the S.G.R. initials engraved in the back of one of the small leaves.
“Fuck.”
The word slips out of your mouth effortlessly as you eye the jewelry and lick your bottom lip. You glance over at MJ who stares back at you with wide, hazel eyes, her lips parted, “See? That shit is real.”
You point at the card in her hand, swallowing quickly before you clear your throat, “What does that say?”
She takes a breath as you push your side into hers, your eyes scanning the writing, “We request the honor of your presence this Friday, October 31st, 2020 at 1543 Asher Ln. 8pm. No extra guests. S.G.R.” she slides her eyes towards you, “You know somebody with those initials?”
You blink, racking your brain, “No. I don’t— I don’t think so, at least.”
“Well, he or she obviously knows you.”
You grab the invitation from her, reading it again before you turn it over, hoping to find something else scribbled on the back. You drop your hand to your lap when you don’t and zero your gaze in on the television as it starts to tunnel.
“Bro,” MJ laughs quickly, “This is some freaky deaky shit.”
You eye the white invitation once more, reading it over again and again— as if you’re missing something, “What, um,” you start absentmindedly, “What do you mean?”
“This is some Eyes Wide Shut shit, sis!”
You scoff again, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slump, “Stop it MJ.”
“Girl,” she laughs harder, clapping her hands and letting her head fall back against the couch, “You gonna go?”
“No!” you squeal at her audacity, tossing the invitation and brooch on the coffee table, “It’s obviously some kind of joke or something.”
“That is no joke! The brooch has got to be at least ten g’s, easy.”
“It’s not real. That shit’s not worth ten dollars.”
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, prude.”
You feel anger flushing through your veins, your face heating up as you stand quickly and walk into the kitchen, “I’m not a prude, Mary Jane.”
“Oooh, my full name,” she mocks, “What are you gettin’ mad for?”
“I’m not mad, I told you that thing gave me the creeps. Everything is a joke to you.”
“I’m not jokin’! Somebody obviously went through a lot of trouble to send you that, I’m just callin’ it as I see it.”
You down the rest of the wine in your glass and quickly pour another, bringing it to your lips as you rub the back of your neck with your free hand, “It’s some kind of prank.” you exhale, taking another sip, “I’m throwing it away.”
MJ rolls her eyes again, grabbing your iPad before she props her feet up on the small, square table in front of her, “Sure, sure. Yeah, somebody sends a diamond encrusted brooch and a handwritten invitation just for funsies. Got’cha.”
You close your eyes and take another gulp of wine, using it to stop yourself from saying something that will more than likely dissolve your evening into a fight. You swallow slowly, pushing the smooth alcohol down your throat and letting it settle and warm in your belly.
“1543 Asher Ln. is a real house, just so you know. Pops right up on Zillow.”
You sigh loudly.
“And,” she starts, dragging out the end of the word, “It’s only fifteen minutes from here.”
“Are you gonna order the pizza or what?”
“You should go, I’m just sayin’.”
“I’m not gonna,” you stop yourself as you glare over at her, her eyes and posture taking that MJ tone as your voice gets sharp, “I’m not going to a strangers house. Okay? Drop it.”
“There’s no reason not to go.” You stare at her for a few seconds. You squint your eyes and let your mouth fall open as you scrunch your face, honestly in disbelief, “What?” she shrugs, “I literally met Peter last year at a party of someone who, to this day, I still don’t know. I can’t even remember how I ended up there.”
“MJ—”
“Don’t MJ me. It could be fun!” She smiles big as you sit next to her again, “You need to live a little. Get some dick, man.” You cut your eyes back over at her and lift your middle finger, “I mean it!” she laughs again, “There is nothing more fun than a Halloween party.”
You lean forward, reaching for the brooch. You roll it around in your palm, keeping your eyes on it as MJ babbles on. You eye the invitation as it lays on the table. The anxiety is back— constricting your stomach, making you itchy and jumbling your thoughts. It’s like it’s screaming at you— like something or someone is trying to get your attention.
You reach forward and slide the invitation to the edge of the table with your fingertips. You grab it swiftly and stand again, feeling MJ’s eyes on your back as you move into the kitchen. Shoving the invitation, the envelope, and the brooch in a drawer, you push the notion right out of your mind.
You’ve never entertained MJ’s crap before and you aren’t going to start now. Out of sight, out of mind.
TUESDAY
There’s a flower arrangement sitting on your desk the next morning. It’s lively— all of the flowers a different shade of pink. The stocks are a blush-pink, the roses spanning the pink spectrum. The spray roses are more purple than anything, but they bring the whole thing together.
There’s a small card leaning up against the glass vase, your name scribbled across the front. You pluck it up quickly and flip it over.
Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.
Your purse falls off your shoulder and down your arm as your eyes go wide. You turn quickly, scanning the bullpen as people move about but you’re not exactly sure what or who you’re looking for. You drop your purse into the chair front of your desk and walk out to your assistant.
“Did you sign for these?” you ask, your voice slightly raised and agitated.
Nakia glances up at you slowly over the rims of her glasses, clearly picking up on your demeanor, “Uh, yeah? ‘Bout half an hour ago… everything okay?”
“What flower shop are they from?”
She shrugs, widening her eyes, “I don’t know, it came by delivery service.”
You tug at your suit jacket around your hip and let out a huff, “Don’t accept anymore, okay?”
You turn on your heel before she can answer and stomp back into your office, closing the door behind you. Heat ripples through you as you grab the handset of your phone and bring it to your ear, angrily dialing your sister’s number. You lean against your desk, arms crossed over your chest as it rings, eyes shifting around the room.
“Yo.”
“There are flowers sitting on my desk.”
You’re met with silence for a few seconds, “... okay?”
“There from someone else that I don’t know,” you huff, “The initials are J.B.B. this time.”
“Oh shit, I forgot about that. Okay, so two dudes wanna rail you at this party. That’s my kind of Friday night, sis.”
“Will you cut it out!” you hiss angrily, turning to face the windows behind you, “This is freaking me out!”
“Oh my god,” you hear her moving around, like sheets and pillows being rumpled until a muffled, groggy moan sounds, “Peter… wake up… wake the fuck up… what did you say about that weird party thing?”
You roll your eyes and tap your foot nervously as the two go back and forth. There’s shuffling again on her end, and then a heavy sigh, “I think it’s a masquerade party.” Peter Parker finally says, his words slurred with sleep, “That’s where—”
“I know what a masquerade party is Peter, thank you.”
“Oh yeah, okay, sorry, so,” he starts, shuffling around again, “I heard for the past couple of years that somebody has been throwing a secret masquerade party at different places around town.”
“How did you hear that?”
“So, there’s this girl I had a class with last year, her name was uh, Liz. She said her older sister was invited to it. And then, there was this other girl, Shuri, she also said that her sister got invited one year too. I didn’t get the full scoop from Shuri though cuz she ended up transferring to Columbia, which, okay, yeah it’s a great school and all, but—”
“Peter,” you say, closing your eyes, “Focus please.”
“Right, sorry. So, yeah, it could be that party. Liz said her sister got the same brooch.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You clear your throat as you shift, cutting your eyes back to the vase of roses sitting in the corner of your glass desk, “Did she go?” you ask trepidatiously, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.
“Uh, yeah. She said it was pretty chill.”
“Pretty chill? The fuck does that mean?”
“Sorry, um, she said her sister said it was fun. Plenty of alcohol, plenty of food. But, because of the whole masquerade thing, she never found out who invited her.”
Put it on speaker, your sister's voice rings, then a sharp, sudden sound of skin on skin followed by a squeal from Peter, “Ow! Okay!”
“So,” you start, your fingers picking at the spiral telephone cord, “They didn’t say anything weird happened or anything? They’re both okay?”
“Liz said that her sister said she talked to some blonde guy for a while. He was asking her a bunch of like, weird, artsy questions but she thought it was all a part of the allure of the party so she just went with it. Other than that,” Peter trails off, and you can practically see him shrugging as if he’s right in front of you, “She said it was fun.”
“See? Everything is on the up and up.” MJ adds, “You should go.”
You don’t answer right away. You slide the small card towards the edge of your desk, picking it up again.
Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.
“Peter, thank you, sorry for waking you up.” You say a few moments later, clearing your throat, “I’ll call you later MJ, okay?”
“Okie,” she purrs into the phone, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Your answer is distracted— quiet and airy as you set the handset back into the base. You stare back at the flowers, chewing on the inside of your cheek as something starts to gnaw at you. Something deep. You set the small card back up against the vase and shake your mouse to wake up your computer, forcing yourself into your emails, the small sentiment running circles in your mind.
Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.
WEDNESDAY
You’re barely home from work when there’s a knock at your door— in fact, you only have one shoe off when the thud sounds through your apartment. You sigh, slipping your pump back onto your foot before you stand from the bed and move to the door. Peering out of the peephole, you spot a FedEx driver, his hands full of packages.
“Hi,” you greet as you open the door, “Goodness, these are all for me?”
“As soon as you sign for them they are.” He laughs, handing you the small pen and handheld scanner.
You sign quickly as he places the boxes just inside your door, and wiggle your fingers as he makes his leave, hustling back down to his truck. You keep your eyes on the boxes as you close and lock the door— you didn’t order anything. You haven’t ordered anything in at least a week and when you do, it’s always from Amazon. All of these boxes are unmarked, except for the shipping label, that has no return address.
An envelope is taped to the side of the largest box and based on how your week has been going, you already half know what to expect. You rip it away from the box and slide your finger underneath the flap, pulling out another handwritten, five-by-seven card.
Hope it fits… A.S.B.
You shove the card back into the envelope and toss it aside before grabbing the large box, sitting it on the bar. With the help of your house key, you rip into the box, popping open the flaps once the tape is broken down the middle. You gasp as you pull out a black and gold ball gown, your mouth dropping open as your eyes go wide.
The corset top is strapless and intricately hand woven with small, black beads in a leafy design. A layer of gold tulle spills down an even longer layer of black tulle, all the way to the floor. The dress is thick— heavy, as you hold it up in your hands. You search for a tag, sewn in initials, something to try and place where this could have possibly come from, but find nothing, as if it’s one of a kind. You splay it out over the couch and move to the second box— your interest now suddenly piqued.
You pop open the second box to find a slightly smaller box inside. Tucking your fingers underneath the rim, you pull the top away and gasp again— this time bigger— and take a physical step back. You blink stupidly and you fumble around in your pants pocket, trying to find your phone. You slam your finger down on MJ’s name and bring it to your ear, lifting a gold Giuseppe heel up in the air.
“You need to get your ass over here, now.”
-
There’s total silence in the apartment as you, MJ, and Peter stare at the Giuseppe heels and a handful of jewelry. The most jaw-dropping being a thin rose gold chain adorned with ninety one (Peter counted), different shaped diamonds arranged to resemble the leaves of a vine. At the center, they all meet at a large— museum caliber— yellow diamond.
“So let me get this straight,” MJ starts, placing her hands on her hips, “Those are Giuseppe heels, and not just any Giuseppe heel, the Cruel Crystal Giuseppe heel, that they don’t even make anymore,” she emphasizes with her hands, “A necklace with a diamond that bigger than my goddamn fist, and a, hang on a second,” she closes her eyes, holding up her hands to add to the drama of it all, “A hand stitched ball gown?”
“Don’t forget the mask,” Peter breathes heavily, “That’s, I’m pretty sure that’s made outta pure crystal, so,”
You play with your bottom lip nervously, your left arm thrown over your stomach as you slowly turn your head towards your sister and her boyfriend, “Did your friend's sister get all of this shit too?”
The young, brown haired man scratches his head as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other before shrugging and expelling a breath out of his mouth, “I mean, I…” he shrugs again, completely at a loss, “I don’t know.”
“Maybe we can google the initials or something. Where’s your iPad?” MJ asks, turning on her heel and rushing into your bedroom.
“I tried that already,” you call, grabbing the shoes from the counter and slipping your feet into it, “Oh my god, they fit.” You whisper more to yourself than to anyone else in the room.
MJ rolls her eyes, “Well, what came up?”
“Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes,” you answer as you twirl around in a circle, completely enamored with your shoes, “So, nothing.”
Peter gasps and places his hands on his chest as his face fills with a quick fear, “Fuuuckkk, what if it’s them?”
You and MJ both scoff, “Don’t be stupid, Parker.” MJ says.
“It could be! You don’t know!”
“Ok, yes, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are behind this. Sure,” she cuts her eyes towards you, “He has such a crush on them. Did you try the third set of initials?”
You nod as you stare down at your feet, turning your right foot slightly, watching as the gold glints underneath the light, “Yeah, no luck there either. Just random ass dudes— look at how good these look on my feet, sissy.”
She waves you off as she sits on the coffee table, her face being lit up by the light of your iPad, “Okay, A.S.B., Andrew Stephen Barber, assistant district attorney— could be him… he’s cute at least.” she shrugs.
“I doubt it,” you let out a breath, “I should try on the dress, huh? I mean, you know, just to see.” MJ throws you a look while Peter glances between the two of you nervously, “What? I’m still not going, I just want to see how it looks.”
“Uh huh,” MJ squints her eyes, following you as you walk back into your bedroom, already pulling down the zipper on the back of your shirt, “Sure.”
THURSDAY
MJ💕 12:37pm
Lunch? I’m right around the corner from your building
You hear your phone chime, but you don’t tear your eyes away from your screen immediately. Voices come from the speaker on your phone as you type fervorously. You’re only really half listening— this meeting has nothing to do with you, but, you’re the account manager, so you have to at least try and seem interested while you work on another contract with a much more lucrative, expensive company.
The iPhone rattles again against your glass desk and you snap it up this time, your eyes scanning the message. Right on cue, your stomach rumbles.
You 12:40pm
Sure, sure. Chinese?
MJ💕 12:41pm
Yum.
A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you open your SPARK messenger and tap on Nakia’s name. She knows you and MJ’s order like that back of her hand, and messages you back minutes later to confirm the food will be on it’s way within the hour. You return your attention to the large computer screen before you, pushing your glasses up your nose as you shift your vision to the second monitor slightly to your left.
There’s a small tap a few minutes later, followed by Nakia’s beautiful face peeking in as she mouth’s MJ before opening the door wider to let your lanky sister breeze into the room. You hold your fingers up to your lips as the chorus of voices still speak from your speaker, but keep your eyes on her as she pulls her bag over her shoulder and head and plops down in one of the plush seats in front of your desk.
She makes herself busy on her phone, no doubt texting Peter as you return to your emails and contract, losing twenty or thirty more minutes.
“Okay guys, I’ll talk to you next week right?” You ask, your fingers hovering over the speaker button, “Okay… alrightly, buh-bye.” you slam your finger down on the small, round button and widen your eyes as you let out an audible breath, “Sorry, sissy.”
MJ holds up her hand, her face still buried in her phone, “You’re an important lady, I get it.”
“I thought you had class today?”
“That’s the good thing about having a pregnant Professor,” she smiles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Morning sickness apparently lasts throughout the day.”
Another tap comes at the door before Nakia emerges again, this time her hands full of food, “Here we are ladies,” she smiles as she sits the bags on your desk, “This also just arrived for you too.”
Your face twists in confusion as she hands you something wrapped in plain brown paper. There’s a black ribbing wrapped around it, tied in a neat little bow in the center of the package. It’s light whatever it is. Your eyes drift slowly over to MJ, who sits up in her seat, peering at the package in your hands before she blinks up at you— a knowing look on her face.
“Thanks Nakia,” you smile, trying not to draw her attention to all of the air being sucked out of the room.
MJ’s phone rings just as Nakia exits the room. You hear her mumble a greeting, but your attention is quickly sucked back to your hands. Curiosity gets the best of you. You pull at the ribbon and toss it aside before curling your fingers around the edges to find where it’s taped together.
Just as your fingers find where the edges meet, Peter Parker’s voice fills the room, “Am I on speaker?”
“Yes!” MJ hisses, “Talk.”
“Ok, so, I was talking to Liz about the weirdo party her sister went to last year. She got the same packages throughout the week! Monday, she got the invite, Tuesday she got flowers, Wednesday she got a dress, shoes, and a masquerade mask, and Thursday she got—“
“A book of poems,” you breathe, the sound low and airy, “By Edgar Allan Poe.”
“Exa-Exactly.” Peter stutters.
It’s delicate, this book— the pages. You thumb through them gently, smelling the authenticity of it— the rarity. It’s been kept in pristine condition but it still looks old, the pages a dull brown; crisp and brittle to the touch. Your heart thumps against your chest as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your throat constricts as you swallow hard, nerves filling your body.
“Which one is it?” Peter asks softly, the weight of this affecting him through the phone.
“Tamerlane and other poems.” You recite as you close the small book and run your fingers over the front cover.
MJ scrambles to her feet and scurries around you, her eyes plastered on your computer monitor as she starts to type.
Peter clears his throat, “Liz’s sister got a copy of Al Aaraaf. It was like, a first edition or something.”
“Fuck,” the obscenity falls from MJ’s lips with ease, but with a gentle discomfort, “This says there’s less than twelve copies of this in existence— twelve. I mean, how do you even get your hands on something like this?”
You can’t even speak. You just sit there, feeling the small book in your hands, staring blankly at the cover. Peter and MJ start to bicker back and forth as they try to make heads and tails of all of this. You aren’t taken by the book exactly, yeah, you're holding one of maybe twelve copies left in the entire world, but there’s something else gnawing at you in the pit of your stomach— something that’s been just at the tip of your subconscious all week long.
It’s like—
“Was Liz’s sister into Edgar Allan Poe?” You ask suddenly.
“Not at all,” Peter answers quickly, “She thought it was weird.”
“And the dress and the shoes? Did they um,” you blink up at MJ but avert your eyes just as quickly, “They didn’t fit, did they?”
There’s silence from Peter. You can almost see him, standing there in the middle of the college campus with a dumbfounded look on his face— his fingers threading through his hair, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, “No,” he answers after a slow minute or two, “They were too small.” He goes quiet again before he says, “How did you know that?”
The feeling that’s been gnawing at you all week. You’ve felt like someone’s been looking for you. There’s been this… pull— somewhere deep inside of you— like someone is calling for you.
What scares you is that you want to answer.
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,” MJ recites slowly.
“Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,” you finish for her, “I used to read that to you when you were a kid.”
“He’s your favorite.”
“My absolute favorite,” you laugh nervously, “I wrote my thesis on Al Aaraaf when I was in school.” You fall back into your chair, “That dress fit me like a glove, MJ— the shoes too.”
She shakes her head quickly, her eyes closed as she slowly comes to the realization that you are. She runs her thin fingers through her wavy hair before she rests her hands on her shoulders, squeezing to comfort herself, “Do you think it’s—”
You shrug, “It could be.”
MJ drops her eyes from yours.
“What’s happening?” Peter’s voice sounds again, “What— what do you mean? Who do you think it is?”
“I’m adopted,” you say slowly, a soft smile on your face as you keep your eyes on MJ, “I was two, maybe three when they took me from my mom. I was placed with our parents, MJ’s biological parents, really quickly— I don’t remember a whole lot, but I remember someone reading Edgar Allan Poe to me, specifically Tamerlane.”
“Fuck,” Peter breathes, “You think it’s her? Your mom?”
You glance towards the floor, a small card catching your eye. You pick it up gingerly and turn it over, your eyes scanning over the handwritten note.
For passionate love is still divine
I lov’d her as an angel might
With ray of the all living light
Which blazes upon Edis’ shrine
See you tomorrow, love — H.R.D.
You drag your eyes back up to MJ’s as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, “It’s definitely someone that knows her.”
FRIDAY
You don’t go into work.
Peter and MJ have been at your apartment all day, helping you piece this crazy story all together. Liz’s sister, Shuri’s sister— they were all you. Same age, all of you born within days of each other. All born at the same hospital. All adopted around the same age.
Someone is looking for you; and has been for years.
You and MJ are now on opposite sides about this party than you were at the beginning of the week. You want to go. You need to; especially if it’ll lead you to your mother. MJ voiced her newfound concerns, to the point where she shed a few tears— but, being the big sister you are, you brushed them away and explained it as best you could. You just need to know if she’s out there— what these people, S.R.G., J.B.B., A.S.B., H.R.D. know about her.
So, she helps you get ready. She curls your hair and pins it up. She paints your nails and helps you into the dress before she leans against the door jam of the bathroom, watching you do your makeup— just like she used to when you were a teenager. Peter knocks on the bedroom door before he barely opens it and shoves his arm inside, an envelope hanging off his finger tips.
“Hey guys,” he says softly, “This just came.”
“You want me to read it?” MJ asks, tapping it against her fingers. When you nod, she tears the flap and slides out the card, “A chariot will await you at 7:30 sharp… but please take your time. S.T.W.”
“What time is it?”
She glances at her phone, “7:25.”
You let out a shaky breath. You lean into the mirror and dab at your lips, removing any excess lipstick before you push back again and drag your eyes down your reflection.
“You know,” you start, keeping your eyes on your painted nails, “I don’t remember my mom at all. Not her face, not her voice, but I remember a man— my dad, I guess.” You blink back towards your reflection, squinting your eyes as the gears turn in your head, “I just remember blonde hair and a deep voice reading those poems to me. I remember feeling safe when he held me.”
MJ drops her eyes and nods slowly as she rakes her fingernails up and down her forearm, “I get why you wanna go. I do.”
“I just need to make these fragments make sense, you know? I remember these other guys too— which,” you shrug, “Would make sense since mom said that my real mom lived in a commune, but,” your words drift off.
“Remember when you thought Steve Rogers was your dad?”
You laugh wholeheartedly, “I do! I just always felt like I knew him, I don’t know why.”
You still do— feel like you know him.
“So, yeah. I get it, I really do. It’s gotta be hard not knowing where you come from— thinking that every stranger you meet, or every person you see could possibly be someone you used to know.” MJ sighs as she meets your gaze through the mirror, “You look great. You always look great.”
“Thanks, sissy.” You bunch your dress in your hand and lift it gently as you step towards her, “I’ll be fine.”
She nods quickly, pursing her lips as she cuts her eyes away from yours, “I know that.”
You smile and tilt your head towards her gaze to grab her attention again, “I’m your big sister, you know. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, I just—” she shrugs, “I don’t want you to forget me.”
“MJ,” you start, grabbing her elbow when her chin quivers, “This has nothing to do with you or mom or dad. I love you guys, you’re my family, that will never change. I promise you, okay?” you pull her into a tight hug, rubbing her back, “You will always be my sister— no one will ever take that away from us.”
“Guys,” Peter calls, “A red Audi just pulled up out front, like, an expensive one.”
“Your chariot awaits.” MJ laughs as she pulls away from you, wiping the wetness on her cheeks away.
You thread your fingers with hers and walk out into the living room where Peter smiles softly. You hug him too— he’s the best thing that could have ever happened to your sister.
“You guys are staying here for the night, right?” you ask, grabbing your clutch.
“We’re not leaving until you come back.” MJ answers.
“Okay. I’ll um, I’ll stay in touch throughout the night, okay?”
MJ nods, “We’ll stay by our phones.”
You head for the front door, opening it quickly before you step out into the hallway, “Don’t have sex in my bed,” you say suddenly, whipping back around to face the couple, “Please.”
“Oh my god,” Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes as a red tint flushes through his face, “We won’t.”
“Yeah, we’ll have sex on the couch.” Your shoulders slump as you squint at MJ, her laughter rolling off her tongue, “Just joking. Have fun, please text us.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too. Be careful.”
You have to turn away from them abruptly or you’d never leave. Grasping your phone and the small clutch you borrowed from MJ, and your crystal mask in your hands, you head for the elevator. It’s a slow ride down to the main floor— silent too. Nothing but the sound of your racing thoughts bouncing back and forth in your mind. The metal box slows to a stop, a soft ding fills the air, and then the world slides back into view— a sleek, red Audi visible through the glass front doors.
A man steps out of the driver seat as you walk towards the door and push through, tightening your grip on your dress. He moves around the car, stopping just at the back door. You notice his eyes dip to your chest and you can’t help but follow his gaze. The flower shaped brooch catches the artificial light of the street lights and each little diamond starts to glint and gleam, even the pearls taking on a new shine.
The driver smiles softly, “The invitation you received was handwritten in an Old English font. The initials at the bottom?”
A test.
“Oh, um, S.G.R.”
“Those flowers you received on Tuesday were beautiful— white carnations, right?”
You shake your head, “Pink roses.”
“I read a poem the other day, I can’t remember what it was called though. It went something like ‘know thou the secret of a spirit bow’d from its wild pride into shame’…”
“O! Yearning heart! I did inherit thy withering portion with the fame, the searing glory which hath shone amid the Jewels of my throne, Halo of Hell! And with a pain not hell shall make me fear again— o craving heart, for the lost flowers and sunshine of my summer hours,” you smile gently, “Tamerlane— the name of the poem.”
He opens the door and holds out his white, gloved hand to you.
-
1543 Asher Lane is lit up like Rockefeller Center during Christmas. Your mouth drops open as you pull up out front, every window glowing with a warm light. The front doors are thrown open with seemingly hundreds of people moving about inside. The driver opens your door and holds out his hand for you, prompting you to slide your palm into his. He keeps a firm grip on your fingers as you step out, and then helps you up the long front steps.
He only releases your hand when you reach the front door, bowing gently before he skips back down the stairs and towards the car. Your heart drums in your ears as you place your crystal, half face mask on your face and adjust it gently before you drop your hand to the necklace nestled in your cleavage. You play with the large yellow diamond as you step inside, your eyes going wide as the lively noise of a full blown party suddenly fills your ears.
An orchestra plays in the middle of the large, open foyer, the sounds bouncing off the walls and rising up into the tall ceiling. Twenty or thirty couples dance to the upbeat tune and you’d swear you’d just stepped into the 1800s. All the men that move about are dressed in black tuxedos, the only distinction between them all being their different masks. The women twirl in their Venetian ball gowns, their jewelry and intricate, flamboyant masks glinting underneath the light.
There’s double staircases winding up walls, leading up to the second floor, more people laughing and talking intimately on them. Waiters in white suits, black ties and white gloves move seamlessly about, slipping in between the bodies with plates of champagne and finger foods— each one bending forward politely and placing their free hand behind their back as party goers pluck the goodies off their silver serving plates.
The floors are made of marble. A large, ornate chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, spilling a warm, almost golden light over everything and everyone.
“Champagne, ma’am?”
You snap your head towards the voice as it breaks you from your trance, “Thank you,” you smile as you take the thin champagne flute from his tray.
Just as quickly as he arrived, the waiter is gone again, leaving you to admire the scene before you. You take a sip of the bubbly liquid and pull out your phone, taking a quick picture and sending it to MJ with a short message. You’ve barely tucked it away when another voice sounds at your side.
“Would you care to dance?”
You turn towards the calm, deep voice, your lips parting as your eyes bounce between two crystal blue eyes. Blonde hair is swept back neatly, a strong, smooth chin and jawline visible underneath his silver, laser cut Venetian mask. He’s tall— towering almost, his chest and shoulders wide and broad. You’re taken by him almost immediately. You nod quickly, blinking a few times as he takes your champagne flute from you and hands it to a nearby server before he takes your hand and leads you into the middle of the floor.
You gasp as he sweeps you up in his arms, resting his large hand on the small of your back and pulls you into his hard body. You can’t help but stare up at him as he starts to twirl you around the floor, taking complete control of your steps. A laugh bubbles up from your chest as he spins you away from him, extending his long arm until just your fingertips are touching, and then pulls you back into his chest.
He’s a confident man— you can tell by the way he spins you around the dance floor. Even as the tempo of the music changes, from upbeat and fun, to slow and somewhat sad, he stays right in rhythm. You’ve always been a sucker for a man that can dance.
A slow smile creeps onto your face as your eyes bounce back and forth between his while the orchestra plays, “What is this song?” you ask suddenly, breaking the ice between the two of you.
“Sicilienne in E flat major, do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” You laugh a little, turning your head to watch the young cellist, “He’s so young, is he local?”
“He isn’t, no. That’s Sheku Kanneh-Mason of Britain, you may—”
You snap your head back towards him, “He played at the Royal Wedding! Oh my god!”
He chuckles as he gently tightens his hold around your waist, “The very one.”
You turn your head to watch the young man as he plays, completely in awe of his raw talent and bask in it, knowing you’ll never be in such company again, “My God, this is incredible. I have no idea what I’m doing here.” You laugh.
“Well, you were invited, yes?”
“Yeah but I—” you stop yourself, shaking your head gently before you smile again, “I had a crazy thought about this party. I thought someone from my past was trying to reach out to me.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes scanning your face. You laugh again, “Don’t mind me, I’m just imagining things apparently.”
“Someone from your past?” He nudges gently.
You’re not sure if it's the champagne you’ve been sipping all evening, or just because for some reason you feel like you’ve known this man your whole life, but you start to spill your guts, “I thought, God, this is going to sound stupid. I thought my mom, or someone who knew my mom was trying to reach out to me through this party, which sounds insane now that I think about it. I was adopted, so,” you shrug, “I dunno, I was kinda hoping that she’d be here or that someone could get me in touch with her. Sounds crazy, right?”
He spins you again, this time slow, his eyes dragging down your body. He pulls you back into him and you rest your hand on his chest as you watch the orchestra, a soft smile on your face, “You are young yet, my friend, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others,” you recite, “Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see.”
His steps hitch ever so lightly.
You turn back to face him, blinking up at him as another smile spreads on your lips, “I didn’t catch your name?”
He blinks at you, something new in his eyes— something like relief? You can’t tell. His lips part and he takes a breath, trying but failing to get his mouth to move, “I’m sorry,” he finally says, laughing gently as he shakes his head, “Um, I’m Steven— Steve. Um, Edgar Allan Poe?”
“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “He’s one of my favorite poets. That last line just kind of describes my thoughts over the past few days is all.”
“It’s strange for a young girl like yourself to be an Edgar Allan Poe aficionado.”
You shrug again, nodding, “I know. I just, I’ve always had an affinity for him, it’s one of the few memories of my father that I have. He used to read Poe’s poems to me as a child.”
He stops dancing abruptly, “May you excuse me? I’m sorry, I have to um, I have to go see someone very quickly. I’ll be right back.”
Before you can even answer, he brushes past you, dipping in and out of the people still filling the dance floor. You blink in confusion, watching as he jogs up the stairs and stops at the very top step, leaning into a dark haired man. They both turn in your direction after a few minutes, catching your eye before they turn back to one another, the dark haired man grabbing Steven’s arm in… surprise, maybe?
They break apart seconds later, Steven jogging back down the stairs, the dark haired man walking briskly along the long catwalk, stopping only to tap three other men on the back before they too follow quickly behind him and disappear. You grab another champagne glass from a waiter and take a gulp as heat flushes through you— nerves suddenly racking your body.
You keep your eyes on Steve as he pushes through the people again, making a line straight towards you. Tilting your head back, you finish off the rest of your glass as he approaches you again, “I’m sorry,” he smiles, “That was rude of me.”
“Oh, it’s, it’s no problem,” you laugh nervously, clearing your throat as you glance around the crowded room.
He holds out his hand to you, “Would you come with me? Please?”
You shake your head as fear strikes you, “Oh, you know, I actually have to get going, I—”
“I know your mother,” your eyes widen at his words, stopping you dead in your tracks, “And your father. Please, come with me.”
You aren’t crazy.
Someone is really trying to contact you.
You grab his hand and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. He steps aside and lets you lead, placing his hands on your waist as the two of you move up the long staircase. Once you reach the top, he grabs your hand again and pulls you along the catwalk until you disappear down the hallway. You pass by a series of doors before you stop at the last one, Steve stopping to knock.
The door pops open seconds later and Steve steps aside again, dropping your hand to hold his out towards the door. You remove your mask and sweep your hair out of your face as your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at Steve.
“It’s okay,” he reassures, his voice soft and calm.
You take a step, and then another, your heart beating hard and fast, goosebumps popping up on your skin. You step into the room but stop dead in your tracks as the air is sucked right out of your body. Four men sit at a long, antique, baroque style table. Their hands are placed flat on the dark marble top, heads bowed. The room is dark except for the flickering candles that sit in their ornate holders in the middle of the table, the light accentuating the mens’ black and gold scaramouche masks.
Fear rolls through you in waves, your breaths shaky and heavy as it falls from your lips. The door clicks behind you and you feel a hand on the small of your back again, another one on your elbow, “It’s alright darling,” he whispers in your ear, “I’ll help you to your seat, okay?”
“Steve,” your voice trembling, “I don’t, I don’t understand, I—”
“It’s alright, I promise you. We are not going to hurt you. That goes against everything we stand for. Come.”
You blink wildly at the men at the table as Steve pushes you past them slowly. They don’t flinch— no one makes a move to glance up at you or even breathe harder than what they already are. You were so busy staring at the men occupying four of the five chairs at the table, that you didn’t even notice the hand carved chair sitting against the wall at the back of the room.
The frame is golden, the upholstery teal in color and covered with floral embroidery, the back designed with a diamond tuft. It sits up a little higher than the table— propped up on a small, hand built stage with three steps leading up to it. Steve helps you up the small steps, keeping your hand in his until you’re seated.
As soon as you're settled, the four seated men pull a candle from the center of the table and place it right in front of them. The golden flames dance at the tips of the long, white candles, casting shadows over the dark walls.
“You may begin.”
You snap your head towards Steve as he speaks, your mouth hanging open, your eyes wide, breath shaky. The dark haired man that Steve first spoke to stands, his chair scuffing against the floor as he pushes away from the table. He grasps the candle holder in both hands as he approaches you slowly, his eyes cast down towards the floor.
Your breath quickens as he nears you. You squeeze Steve’s hand as you push back into the chair, starting to draw your feet up as he kneels before you, “Wait, wait, wait, wait! What are you—”
“It’s okay, darling.” Steve purrs, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hands, “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. Just relax.”
A hot tear streaks down your cheek as your whimper, your chin trembling as you push a hard, focused breath out of your mouth. The man in front of you mumbles something— in French you think, but you aren’t sure— before he reaches into his pocket. Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to sprinkle rose petals at your feet, chanting as he does.
You feel his fingers brush over your exposed toes before he lifts your right foot and slips off your gold shoe— tracing a cross with the tip of his finger on the top of your foot. He repeats his actions to the left and stands, keeping his head down as he makes a cross over his face and chest and then turns and returns to his seat.
The next man stands, a thick beard covering his chin, his candle in hand as he approaches you, never making eye contact. Instead of rose petals, he lays money at your feet— a single dollar bill— before he traces the cross into your skin while he speaks in French.
The third man is clean shaven, like Steve, but his hair dark— some falling over his mask and onto his forehead. He leaves a handful of herbs and one white egg at your feet before sweeping his fingertips over your toes and branding each foot with an imaginary cross.
The fourth man that kneels before you repeats everything to a T. He’s tall, his skin a deep, smooth walnut brown. He leaves behind a handful of wheat grain and what looks like raw sugarcane before he blesses your feet and rises again. He taps his forehead and chest before each shoulder and moves away, retaking his seat at the table.
Tears still trickle down your cheeks as you blink furiously— your stomach churning, your palms clammy. You snap your eyes towards Steve as he finally releases your hand and grabs a bowl from the small table tucked into the corner of the room. He steps in front of you and kneels, setting the hand painted bowl at your feet. He lifts your feet gently, placing them in the bowl with care, massaging your ankles and lower calves to calm you.
It works— your voice trembles as you push out a gentle hum, focusing on his hands on your skin. He starts to speak in French, his voice low and calm, much like most of the evening. He pulls a small flask out of his jacket pocket and pops the lid before he pours the unusually cool liquid over your feet. You flinch instinctively but focus again on his soft hands, kneading your feet as he washes them.
Steve pulls the white silk pocket square from his suit jacket and dabs at your feet, wiping away the moisture. He traces a cross on the tops of your feet before standing again and cups your face with his hands. You’re drawn into him— resting your forehead to his as he continues to chant, his lips so close they brush against yours as he speaks.
“Bless this missing child,” he whispers, the only part of his chant in english, “She is home at last.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, every burning candle is suddenly extinguished by some force now filling the room. You blink in the darkness, your breath quickening as you grab Steve’s forearms.
“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he coos, stroking your bottom lip with his thumbs, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
The room is full— so full of energy; power. It whips around you, electrifying your skin and blood, rattling your bones. It’s foreign— anomalous— but yet feels so comforting and warm. Like love. Like you're surrounded by family. You loosen your grip on Steve’s forearms as the fear drains from your body, a voice— a soft whisper in your ears. A voice you’ve never heard before but have somehow heard your whole life. It’s a language you don’t understand, but yet you know exactly what it’s saying.
Your eyes pop open suddenly and the room is washed in a warm light as the candles are suddenly lit again. Steve smiles at you softly as your eyes, now full of wonder and a new sacred knowledge, bounce back and forth between his deep blues. There’s a new electricity between the two of you, something unspoken, but written in the stars all the same.
The blood in your veins rushes hard, the sound of your thumping heart beating in your ears as goosebumps pop up over your skin again. Your stomach tightens as the molten of your ardor starts to pool and spread through your body, blazing a quick path. Steve’s thumbs still sweep over your lips, underneath your eyes, over your nose as you hold loosely onto his wrists. You grab your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes fall to his mouth before you inhale sharply— soft and pink, his lips.
His large palms spread warmth through your face, his thumbs still circling— still pushing along your smooth skin. Blue eyes dart around your face, continually meeting your deep brown eyes before dipping to your expectant lips. He pushes closer— so close that his pillowy lips rest against yours, but he doesn’t rush it— doesn’t press any harder.
He leaves it all up to you.
The energy is back in the room, swirling, filling you up with the power and presence with each breath you take. You press your lips to his as the sweet sirens start to whisper to you again. A moan slips from your mouth and into Steve’s, where he gobbles it up, exchanging a deep, pleased groan of his own.
His lips start to travel, moving down to your chin and jaw. He nuzzles into the soft, warm crook of your neck where he sucks lightly— his velvet tongue sneaking out and slipping along your skin. You push your chest into his as your back straightens, a gasp filling your lungs with the sweet air that surrounds you.
The emotion takes over in the heat of the moment— the fire of his lips and hands setting you a flame. Your leg hooks around his waist as you curl your fingers over his broad shoulders, digging your black painted nails into his shoulder blades. His teeth nip at your taut flesh and you lurch forward, your head tilting towards the ceiling as a choked moan strains in your throat.
You feel his deft fingertips on your naked calf, slipping along the length— over and around your knee, up your thigh— where he kneads and gropes, pulling heavier, louder sounds from you as his lips caress your flesh. A shiver rolls down your spine when his thick digits brush over your sticky panties. He doesn’t shy away, he sweeps the pads of his fingers over you again and again, finding a sweet little rhythm as he applies a gentle pressure.
Hips roll. Chests swell. Grips tighten as your head rolls back. Your mouth falls open as you drag in a breath, pushing it out with a husky groan. Your teeth grab your bottom lip again as you slide your hand around his wide back, hooking your arm around his neck. Humming, you open your eyes, blinking slowly back at four sets of hungry eyes trained on you and Steve. You inhale again, letting your lips part as you link eyes with each man at the table.
The men sit stark still— not moving a muscle as the flame from the candles light your bodies. Shadows dance across their masked faces as they watch in silence, but you can feel each and every one of them. Each energy is slightly different but acutely masculine, acutely tuned into you.
You don’t mind them watching. The scene salacious— vulgar.
Wrapped up in two large, muscly arms, you’re hoisted from the chair as Steve grabs your lips again with his own. He walks you to the table and sits you on the edge, right between two of the four men occupying it. The marble top is cool to the touch as he helps you up onto your feet, holding the tips of your fingers with his hand. He leads you into the center of the table, five heads all tilted up towards you as you stand there, the bottom of your dress dragging behind you as you move.
You feel like a princess with all of their eyes on you, hanging on to your every move, drinking in every inch of you. You twirl— a giggle falling from your lips before you sink down to your knees, peeking over your shoulder at the only brown eyed man in the room. You place your thin fingers over your lips, playing with them gently as you bat your eyes at him and sweep your hair over your shoulder— exposing the zipper of your dress.
He obliges without hesitation. Standing to his feet, he reaches for you— a warm hand on your bare shoulder, another grasping the zipper. You nuzzle your chin and cheek against his long fingers before brushing your lips over them quickly. His warm brown skin melts into yours as he pulls on your zipper, exposing more and more of your naked back as he goes.
The soft smile on your face grows wider as he centers his large palm in the middle of your back. Warm skin to warm skin. His eyes are ablaze— dark, blown pupils against a lighter brown iris— set dead on you as his lips part, showing off a distinctive gap in his teeth as his fingers whisk across your back and shoulder.
You turn to face him, still kneeling in the center of the table, and reach for his mask— pulling gently on the black tie until the bow falls away. He lets you remove it from him, a soft smile playing on his lips as you reveal the handsome face underneath.
“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Steve offers softly.
Samuel tips his head towards you as you run the tips of your fingers along his softly bearded jaw, “S.T.W.” you say easy, recalling the last of your calling cards, “Hi Sam.”
You lean forward and place your lips on his— one gentle, chaste kiss before you break away from him with a soft smack.
You follow Steve with your eyes as he moves to the man seated next to Sam. Steve places his hand on his shoulder, “Andrew Stephen Barber.”
You bat your eyes at Andrew as he stands and takes your hand, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips, “Andy.” He supplies as he removes his mask and sits it gently on the table.
“A.S.B., thank you for the dress.”
His presence is calm— gentle, matching the softness of his beard and dark hair. You press your free hand into the halter top of your dress to keep it from falling, but all the modesty you once had is evaporating quickly. You feel like you’ve known them all forever.
The next pair of blue eyes bring a forceful energy, one of entitlement and defiance. Before Steve can get his name out, he’s standing, his mask in his hand revealing his boyish, clean face, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” He winks at you suggestively, “Ransom.”
He wraps his long arm around your waist and pulls you close, crashing his lips to yours in a fury. You giggle against him before accepting his velvety tongue into your mouth, letting it sweep along your bottom lip and then slide along yours. Steve taps his shoulder and after a beat… or two, Ransom releases you from his grip, a smirk on his face, a twinkle in his eye.
You turn to the fourth man— the dark haired man that Steve initially spoke to on the stairs. He’s standing, with Steve behind him, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of the long table. He’s the only one wearing gloves. His breathing is controlled, his eyes set on you as you inch towards him, sitting up on your knees in front of him.
You walk your fingers up his chest seductively, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you smile at him, “You must be J.B.B.”
He tilts his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I could be S.G.R.”
“While the guy named Steven stands behind you?” you squint playfully, reaching for his mask.
He grabs your wrist with his left hand, making you gasp. It’s a firm grip, but it excites something deep in you. You drop your hands into your lap, flattening them on your thighs as you take a deep breath and push it out of your nose. He glances over his shoulder at Steve, who nods just once before he turns back to face you and starts to pull at the fingers of his gloves. He removes the right hand first, tucking the black glove into his pocket before he starts on the left, pulling slowly— finger by finger.
Your mouth drops open as he pulls the nylon material away, your eyes going wide as he stretches out his digits, the candle light glinting off of the dark metal. The breath in your throat hitches as you watch him reach for his mask and untie it, pulling it away from his face to reveal a familiar one.
J.B.B.
James Buchanan Barnes.
So that means—
You blink towards Steve, whose mask is now off and sitting on the table. He rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he exhales deeply, “James Buchanan Barnes,” he then points at himself, “Steven Grant Rogers.”
You blink rapidly— completely dumbfounded as the two super soldiers stand before you. Bucky takes your hand, brushing his lips over your fingers before he pops them into his mouth, sucking gently on your digits as he flicks his eyes back up to yours. Your stomach tightens. A hum accompanies the breath that vibrates through your chest as he drags his left hand up and down your arm.
Steve cups your cheek and turns your head towards him before he traces your jaw and chin with his index finger, “We’re gonna take care of you baby girl,” he whispers as he places his fingertips on your forehead and brushes them down your face, “We’ve searched for you for so long.”
You believe him— you don’t know what he’s talking about, but you believe every word.
You push in and kiss Bucky, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze gently before you turn towards Steve, pulling him into another deep kiss, “Get this dress off of me.” You whisper.
Hands— so many hands, each pair distinctively different, are on your body within seconds, tugging and pulling at the heavy dress until you’re free of it. The only piece of clothing left on you is your thin thong as you lay back on the table, your hands over your bare breasts, covering them. You gaze up at the five men peering at you, their eyes wide and hungry.
Steve slips his hand down your sternum, the pads of his fingers sliding down your stomach to your hips, where he traces the thin band of your underwear— his touch making you raise your hips from the table. Sam drags his thumb along your chin and bottom lip before he pushes the tip just inside your all too eager mouth. You suck gently, running your tongue the length of his digit as Ransom pries your hands away from your breasts.
You moan softly, arching your back into Ransom’s hands as he starts to tweak your taut nipples, rolling them both between his fingers before he leans down and sucks your right breast into his mouth. Hands grab your thighs, kneading your flesh and pull them apart as Andy licks into your mouth, his tongue massaging the roof as he holds your chin.
The energy is back in the room— the power swirling as the men start to devour you. There’s tongues over your toes, hands on your tight nipples and abundant breasts, lips on your shoulders and neck. Fingernails scrape against your skin as they slink underneath the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs and calves before they slide over your ankle and are discarded to the floor.
You feel the warm metal and flesh hand of Bucky around your ankles, drawing your legs up so they’re bent at the knee. He crawls onto the table, his heavy blue eyes drinking you in as he lets his metal fingers dance up and down the inside of your thigh. You start to shiver at his touch— your back arching away from the table as you gasp and hiss from the hands and mouths and tongues all over you.
Bucky sinks down— low, onto his belly— his eyes still trained on yours as he wraps his arms around your thighs. He starts to blow warm air against your sticky, hot sex, his eyes finally dipping away from yours and to your lower half as your hips jerk and whine. His metal fingers push through your folds gently, rubbing the sensitive nub at the center of you, then teasing your slit and opening.
Steve presses his balmy lips right in the valley of your breasts and peppers kisses along your jiggling flesh. The tip of his tongue circles your nipples before his teeth nip and bite. You gasp loud as a metal finger, and then a second push into your cunt— a thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips jut upward as you mewl, the sound quickly being covered up by Sam’s mouth as he kisses you hard.
Bucky blinks up at you as he withdrawals his fingers and waits— waits for you to make eye contact with him before he sucks them into his mouth, wiping them clean of your slick. He moans— heavy and hard as he closes his eyes, savoring your taste.
Your hips start to roll into his hand as he dips his fingers back into you, his breath washing over your quivering thighs. Ransom tickles your right knee, then skips his hand down the inside of your thigh, where he cups your sex around Bucky’s pushing fingers. Ransom starts to rub your clit, pressing firm circles into your wet flesh as Bucky curls his fingers to massage your muscles.
Andy sinks his teeth into your side before his tongue glances out over your stomach, circling your belly button before he sucks on your skin. He presses his hand into your lower stomach to add some pressure— Sam and Steve each taking a breast into their wet mouths, their tongues swishing and swirling.
You dig a hand into Steve’s hair and cup Sam’s head as they tease your nipples, a sharp yelp bursting through your lips as Sam bites down gently. Ransom spreads your folds with his index and middle fingers and suddenly, there’s a tongue— a warm, velvety tongue flattening against your clit. You push your head up to watch as Bucky sucks on your nub, his eyes searing into yours as he releases you with a smack, and then dives back in, the tip of his tongue flirting with your opening, his fingers still pumping.
Your head and hips roll as unrestrained groans rumble through your chest and fill the room, mingling with the deep moans and growls of the five men pleasing you. The sound of a zipper bounces off the walls— your hand then grabbed and pulled to your left. You gasp at the heavy warmth that fills your palm as your fingers wrap around Sam’s length. You roll your head towards him, biting your bottom lip as you watch your hand slide up and down his impressive girth.
You grab Steve’s hip with your free hand, digging your fingers into him as you lean up, beckoning him to come closer. You kiss him hard once he’s within distance, smacking your lips against his before you sound into his mouth as Ransom slaps your pussy, the gold band around his ring finger adding a heaviness to the strikes.
Bucky kisses up your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh every now and again until he reaches your ankle and foot. He thumbs at your black painted nails before he pulls your toes into his mouth as he massages your calf, “These are cute, these toes.” He murmurs, a light chuckle vibrating through him.
A chorus of zips start to sound, one right after the other. Their jackets soon hit the floor, the crisp, white sleeves of their button downs are rolled up their forearms before they all descend on you again. You’re lifted from the table into Andy’s arms as Sam slides into the space you once occupied on the table, his pants riding low on his hips. Andy kisses you deeply before placing you back on your feet on the top of the table, keeping a hold of your hand as you traipse along Sam’s side.
You throw your leg over Sam’s body and sit slowly, wiggling your hips as you position yourself on his lower stomach. You reach back, dragging your fingers through the curly patch of hair covering his lower half, tickling his skin. You slip your fingers into his unzipped pants and pull him free, stroking and squeezing him slowly before you swipe your fingers over his wet tip.
Two strong hands grip your waist— Ransom— as you slip your hand down to Sam’s base and lift upward, guiding him towards your entrance. Ransom holds you steady as you sit down on Sam, your cunt swallowing every delicious inch of Sam’s cock until he’s completely disappeared. You lean forward, splaying your fingers out on his wide, thick chest as he grabs hold of your thighs. You pull up, hissing as his cock slides out of the tight grasp of your pussy and then sit back down, moaning as he fills you again.
Ransom slips his hand up your spine and wraps his fingers over your shoulder as you start a slow rhythm, up and down, up and down, up and down. Your hips roll as Sam starts to buck his hips up into you, each stroke a little harder, a little sharper than the one before it. There’s a chest to your back and then teeth nibbling at your earlobe as you lean back into the body and rest your head on a shoulder. Ransom’s mouth then covers yours as he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight as you ride Sam, your nails digging into his rich brown skin.
You gasp as a tongue teases your thick nipple, and then a hand closes over your left breast, squeezing and kneading gently. You slide your hand into Ransom’s hair as you watch Steve flick the tip of his tongue against your nipple before he sucks your breast into his mouth, moaning as his tongue swirls.
Andy slips his hand down your stomach and starts to work your clit, grabbing your chin with his free hand and tilting your head towards his. His head is tilted upwards, his eyes hooded as he peers down at you through his long, thick eye lashes. You whine as Sam’s pace quickens, fucking up into you hard as he grips your hips so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks behind. Andy snarls his lip as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open, as your hips falter, as you get louder and less restrained. He licks into your mouth before he lays a filthy kiss on you— demanding and sloppy.
Ransom squeezes your shoulder before he pushes you forward with his other hand, nearly crushing you against Sam’s chest. You shiver when you feel his cock slide through your ass cheeks, leaving a wetness behind. He pulls back and the backs of his fingers glance over your ass, deep hisses and a grunt coming from him as he strokes his cock— a drop of his cum dribbling onto your skin.
He suddenly pushes his fingers into your mouth— index, middle, and ring— wetting them with your saliva before he drags them back through your ass, the tips circling your hole. There’s a tangy taste left in your mouth, some of you, some of him, as he slaps his dick against your ass and then spreads you apart. Sam slows beneath you and then stops as he drags his large hands up and down your forearms, grabbing your hand and sucking your fingers into his warm mouth.
You slam your eyes closed, tensing as Ransom starts to push the head of his cock against your asshole. He places his hand against the center of your back, Bucky cups your face in his palms, sweeping his thumbs over your cheeks as he pecks your lips with his, singing gentle praise to help relax you.
“You can do it baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his nose against yours, smiling softly, “You can take him baby, I know you can. Can’t she Steve?”
Steve sinks his teeth into your shoulder, humming as he drags his red, swollen lips down your arm, “This pretty girl sure can,” he reassures, his voice smooth and low, “And it’s gonna feel so good, baby. You’re gonna feel so full, so stretched.”
You whimper loudly. You grab Bucky’s shoulder as Ransom’s dick finally breaks through your threshold. Ransom lets out a breath, the warm splashing over your back as he stills, a shuddering groan vibrating through his chest. Ransom squeezes your shoulder again, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses on your back, “More?”
Steve kisses your temple before he nuzzles into the side of your face, “You can do it sweet girl. You can take him all.”
Bucky kisses your lips again. Sam nibbles on the tips of your fingers as he nudges his hips into yours, burying deeper into you. You nod quickly— you do want more. More, more, more.
Ransom starts to push again, spreading your tight muscles as he forges, filling you right up. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out— his stomach now pressing into your ass as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck.
“Such a good girl,” Bucky purrs as he reaches between you and Sam’s bodies, starting to play with your nub, “Such a sweet, pretty girl.”
Sam is the first to move, pressing up into you before he withdrawals slowly. Ransom counters his actions, pulling out when Sam pushes in, delving in when Sam drags out. It’s hypnotizing— the rhythm, the push and pull. Your mouth goes slack as Steve rolls your nipples in his hands, his tongue and teeth nipping and licking at your damp skin. You roll your hips, pushing back into Ransom as Sam fucks up into you as electricity flows through your veins.
“That’s it baby girl,” Bucky praises through impassioned kisses, his tongue slipping along your lips and the roof of your mouth, “Stuffed full, aren’t you sweetie?”
Your stomach tightens at the words, your heart beat pounding against your chest and in your ears as a tingle rushing up your spine. There’s a pull deep in your belly, a molten heat and the raw emotions spreading through you as your body tightens hard. Your hips jerk as a sudden current strikes you— your cunt closing around Sam. He shudders and you feel it, feel it rumble through his chest as his own hips get desperate.
Ransom fucks your ass with fluid motions, his enormous hands and long fingers digging into the supple flesh of your waist. He grunts, hard and grainy as the warmth of your insides caress his cock. Ransom gets loud, Sam gets loud, you get whimpery— needy, almost to the point of tears as the waves roll harder and faster through you. Each stroke, each thrust, each plow of their hips driving you closer and closer to your demise.
A moan chokes in your throat as your orgasm blooms across your skin, but soon the sounds are pouring out of you. Loud, desperate, relieved as the waves finally crash. Bucky bites his bottom lip hard as his fingers slap against your jumping clit. Steve pinches your nipples as he rests his forehead against the side of your face, his hot breath sticking to your skin.
Sam drives his hips into yours once more and digs his thumbs into the creases of your thighs as his cock starts to spit, over and over again, spilling into you. Ransom fucks through it all, keeping a firm grip on your shoulder until he too comes undone in your ass. He pushes deep, deep, deep inside as he spurts, watching as your hole spasms around him.
Ransom pulls out of you as soon as he’s milked and you feel his cum bubble out of you, slipping down the inside of your thigh. You’re lifted off of Sam— brought to the edge of the table, on your hands and knees, your feet hanging over the end. A massive hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest and head down onto the cool surface as you try and catch your breath. You jump when a pair of warm lips connect where your ass ends and your thigh begins, a soft beard brushing against your skin.
Andy drags his finger up the inside of your thigh, collecting the cum that’s spilled from you and pushes two fingers into your hot cunt— your muscles still quaking, still constricting. He fingers you slowly, skimming his fingertips up and down your thigh as he pushes his digits, cramming Sam and Ransom’s cum deep.
You hum with each stroke, lunging forward softly, your nipples grazing over the marble table top as you move. You blink slowly as you lift your head, watching as Bucky climbs onto the table, spreading his legs as they slide around you. He slides his flesh hand into his pants and starts to stroke his cock— long, languid pulls as his metal fingers pull on his tight balls. You wrap your hands around his thighs, the excitement bubbling up in your chest once more as you watch him.
Andy replaces his fingers with his dick in one fell swoop. You mewl, your tits bouncing as he starts a brisk pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls as Ransom, Sam, and Steve watch on, chests rising and falling hard as they tug their hands up and down their cocks at the sight.
You rock forward, your face inches from Bucky’s cock as he jerks himself, peering down his long body at you. Keeping your eyes on his, you push your tongue out from behind your teeth and lick at his shaft quickly before puckering your lips to kiss the thick vein running the length of him. You push your hands over his hips and up over his abs as your mouth slides over his wet, red mushroom tip.
Bucky moans deep, his back arching from the table as he pushes his hips up into your mouth, sending his cock right to the back of your throat. You pull upward as his hips sink back to the table, releasing him with a pop and smiling as his cock sways back and forth. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, wiggling him a little before you lower your mouth over his tip, sucking lightly as you swirl your tongue over his slit.
Your plump lips go slack around Bucky as Andy presses into a spot— sending a jolt right to your heart. Andy lets his hands roam along your back and sides as he fucks you, gripping and squeezing, groping and kneading your thick, soft flesh. He’ll push deep, and then just stay there for a few seconds, savoring the warmth, the tightness of your slick muscles before he wiggles his hips and withdrawals from you, just to plunge back in.
You release Bucky quickly to swallow the piquant spunk left on your tongue before you cram him back into your mouth. You suck on his cock head as you pump him up and down, twisting and turning your hand as you go. A muffled moan seeps from your mouth, vibrating around Bucky’s cock as you slam your eyes closed, feeling Andy’s strokes in your stomach.
The tingles are back— the pull in your belly. Your pussy tightens as the electricity within you starts to bounce around, synapses firing. Andy feels it, Bucky too, their hips pushing harder and faster. Your nails scratch at Bucky’s skin, squeezing uncontrollably as your heart beats in your ears, heat flushing your face.
Andy fucks into you good, hard and deep, sending you right over the edge once more. Your release spreads through you, warming every inch of flesh, every pore, every follicle. Andy thumbs your clit as he continues to pump his hips, fucking your right through your orgasm until your contracting muscles and slick coax his climax. Bucky erupts at nearly the same time— long, hot ribbons of his cum shooting from him, splattering on his stomach and dribbling down his cock.
There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, Steve standing from one of the chairs to grab your chin, pushing your head and face up towards him. He kisses you hard— sloppy, sucking on your bottom lip before he tongues the roof of your mouth. He pulls away, cupping your face in his hands gently as he rubs his thumbs along your cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of affection.
“Such a good girl.” he whispers.
He pulls you into another kiss, but this time it’s softer— sweeter. Slower.
Andy pulls out of you, his hands still sweeping over your back and ass and thighs. He presses another kiss right into the creases of each cheek before he falls into a chair next to Sam. Bucky slides off of the table and sits next to Ransom, resting his head on the back of the chair and lets his mouth go slack as he lets out a breath.
Steve crawls onto the table as the four other men drag their chairs to the edges of the table, sitting up straighter once they get situated. Steve grabs your lips with his, a soft hum wavering in his throat. He separates from you but doesn’t go far— resting his forehead on yours as he nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. He starts to guide you back, his hand behind your head, as he lays you down flat on the table, your knees drawn up, your feet flat against the cool surface.
You sweep your hands up and down your thighs in anticipation as you watch him unbutton his shirt slowly, his blue eyes wandering the length of your body as his fingers move. You push up onto your elbows, tilting your head as you blink at him when he pulls the material away from his buff torso.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you dip your eyes to his broad chest, his skin tanned and tight. There are faint scars littered along his skin— a few tiger stripes on his biceps and sides. His stomach is firm and flat, six perfect abs carved out, and the cutest belly button you think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. You sit up, placing your hand in the middle of his chest, right in the middle of those hard pecs and watch your hand move with each breath he takes. Your fingers fall, down his sternum, over those abs, and slightly into the dark blonde patch of hair that peeks out of his open pants.
You draw your bottom lip into your mouth and send your eyes up to his as your hand digs deeper— your dainty fingers wrapping around his hard, hot cock. His chest tightens at your touch. You inch your body closer to his, throwing your legs open and around either side of his body as you start to pump him slowly. You draw your hand up his shaft, sweeping your palm over his sensitive, weeping tip before you push back down, squeezing him gently— feeling him.
His breathing gets deeper, his chest and stomach constricting, his lips parting and quivering ever so lightly as you massage him. All five pairs of eyes are on you— unwavering, barely blinking as they consume you and only you. The power swells in your chest. You feel like a goddamn queen. Captivating. Strong.
You pull him free of his dark slacks and have to take a breath at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Thick and long, his tip shiny and wet and red— eager— his dick jumping every now and again as cum dribbles out of his slit. You sweep the pads of your fingers over the tip again, collecting the warm, cloudy spunk and push it down his shaft, along the thick vein that runs down him, wetting every inch of him.
He pulls you into his lap in one swift move, like you’re absolutely weightless. His cock settles against your pussy and clit, resting against your stomach as he wraps his arm around your back and waist. You instantly start to roll your hips, sliding your skin along his dick— coping a feel— letting it radiate through you.
The current in the room picks up. The flames of the candles start to flicker as if there’s a strong breeze that threatens to extinguish them. You push up with the help of Steve’s strength, your mouth hanging open as you guide him towards your entrance. You push his flesh through your folds, teasing yourself a little before you align him with you, starting to sink your hips down.
You dig your fingertips into his shoulders, let your head fall back as he opens you up inch by inch. A growl scratches at the back of your throat when you feel his hot lips on your neck, peppering kisses, tongue lapping, teeth nipping as you take him. The candles flicker hard as Steve bottoms out in you— hip to hip; flesh to flesh.
Throwing an arm around his neck, you really start to move, pulling up on that towering dick before sinking back down on it. Your tits bounce as your hips roll, a delicious burn starting to spread through your thighs. Steve’s hips fuck into yours, meeting you halfway as you crash down. There’s hands on you again— on your shoulders and arms, on your thighs, wrapping around your ankles— Andy, Ransom, Sam, and Bucky— grabbing, kneading, gripping, groping.
The electricity in the room bounces off the walls, energizing you, drawing you into Steve more and more with each passing second. The wind even kicks up outside, slamming against the sprawling house, shaking the lush trees. The warm moonlight cascades into the room and over your bodies as you fuck Steve unmercifully on top of the old table. You gasp and moan and pant— the sounds bitten off, choked, and heavy as your pussy constricts around him.
He appeases each whim of your hips, driving into you deep and hard, taking control when your hips jerk and shudder. He encourages you— they all do— sweet, tiny whispers, filthy, low declamations. Their voices rattle your brain and your bones as the candle light trembles again.
You’re slamming into each other, Steve bottoming out with each thrust. Your stomach is tight, your body warm and prickly, your clit stinging as another orgasm looms in the distance. Steve’s hips are rolling and pushing, his fingernails scratching your skin as he rakes them down your naked back. There’s teeth on your shoulders and neck, lips over your nipples, fingers prodding against your clit until you come undone, shouting and pleading to every God you know.
A sudden burst of warmth explodes inside of you— Steve’s strangled groans growing loud as he comes. Your face breaks with passion, tears threatening to spill as ungodly, high-pitched sounds spill from your lips. You’re all shrouded in darkness. The candle light whipped away, suddenly extinguished by the invisible forces in the room.
The candles relight again out of nowhere as you collapse against Steve as your body finally gives out after the thorough fuck session. You’re heavy and limp, air rushing out of your mouth, sticking to his damp, humid skin. You can’t even keep your eyes open. You hum intermittently as their hands brush over your skin before they pull you away from him, laying you back down on the table.
Their voices ring out, all in sink, chanting again in French. Sam sprinkles your body with the flask, from your head to your toes— Steve traces a cross on your chest. They all flatten your hands on you as their chorus finishes, and you hear the soft voices again. They’re warm and happy, the feminine voices, as the love— the familial undercurrent— fills the room again.
You’re lifted into arms, pressed against a chest before one of their discarded jackets is thrown over your shoulders. Your head is foggy, thoughts slow as someone carries you out of the room. You feel their protection, the fierce safeguard of you as suddenly you’re the center of attention. It feels as if hundreds of eyes are on you— because there are as they walk you right through the center of the party.
“Our missing child is home.” Steve announces, smiling softly down on you, sweeping his large hand over your forehead, “The family is complete once more.”
An exuberant applause erupts.
You’re moving again, slowly the eyes on you disappearing as the fivesome moves you through the house. A door clicks, the sound of the bottom of it sweeping across the carpet filling your ears. A warmth surrounds you as you’re laid down onto a bed, a large, full comforter covering your naked body. You squirm, your head rolling against the pillow as you murmur and whimper.
“Shh shh shh, little one,” Sam purrs, stroking your face with his thick fingers, “You’re safe.”
“We’re all here sweet girl. Just rest.” Andy says calmly, brushing his lips over the backs of your fingers.
Naked bodies surround you— cram you right in the middle of them. Arms and legs are thrown over you, fingers thread with yours, lips and beards glance over your skin as they whisper and blether. You roll into a body, you’re not even sure who’s, and you hold onto them tight, letting the sleep seep in, letting it pull you away into the deep.
SATURDAY
There’s an intrusive light burning into your face. You shift, rolling your head away from it before rolling your entire body over onto your side. You stretch your arms out and sigh slowly, wanting nothing more than to melt back into the soft, deep slumber that had been disturbed— but your brain has other plans. It slowly starts to awaken, the fog lifting, memories and visions of the night before playing before your eyes. Hands on your skin, lips locked on yours, eyes following your every move.
You spring upwards.
Your eyes pop open as you inhale sharply. You snap your head to the right and then the left before you scan the room, finding it completely empty. You turn back towards the windows, squinting and blinking as the sun belts into the room, the light spilling over the floor and bed. Voices float towards you— warm, male laughter— before it dies away again and all you hear are the random chirps of birds and the soft swish of the breeze against the trees and house.
That’s when the soreness seeps in. You roll your shoulders as you recognize the subtle pain, roll your neck before stretching your arms above your head. There’s laughter again, the clatter of pans and dishes and you blink at the closed bedroom door. Questions start to populate and swarm, pushing away the rest of the sleepy fog in your mind.
You throw your legs over the side of the bed and stand, but throw your hands back on the mattress as you stumble, having to steady yourself. Your legs are jelly. A hum vibrates in your chest and throat as you take a step after a few sobering seconds. The muscles of your sex scream at you— achy and tight— used. It’s sharp but also dull, nagging and deep— the soreness. It feels good. Feels right.
Spotting an egg shaped floor length mirror leaning up against the far wall, you pad towards it, squinting and hissing as pangs of the delicious pain prickle along your skin and muscles. You peer at your body, twisting and turning. You’re marked beyond belief— suck marks on your neck and shoulders, red raised welts on your sides and thighs, deep bruises and teeth marks scattered along your body like a map.
A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.
You spot a small bench in front of the bed, a pink satin tank top and matching shorts tossed over it. You slip the tank top over your arms to cover your bare torso and pull the shorts up your legs, your ample behind poking out of the bottom of them. You start for the door and move into a long hallway, following the laughter and voices emanating from deep in the house.
This is a really big house. It takes a while, well, you’re nosey so you peek into each room you pass and stop to eye the paintings on the wall, but you finally find the source of all the noise. You turn into the vast kitchen, finding five men placed throughout it. Sam is over the stove, cracking eggs and flipping potatoes and fresh vegetables. Andy sits at the bar, his nose buried in the Saturday paper as he sips on a black coffee. Bucky and Steve sit at the table, talking hushly over some old papers, and Ransom leans against the fridge, thumbing through his phone.
Bucky’s the first to notice you. He greets you with a wide, bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides, his nose scrunching, “Good morning beautiful.”
The rest of the men all blink at you and a warmth flushes through your face as you play with your fingers. Before you can respond, Ransom sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, kissing you hard and deep before he sits you back down and swats your behind, “Mornin’ doll.”
“Don’t be so rough with her,” Andy chides the slightly younger man. He grabs your wrist, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, “Sleep well, baby?”
“I did, thank you.” You smile, nervous but flattered by the attention.
“Hope you’re hungry sweetie,” Sam says, leaning into you to peck your lips as you move towards him.
“I’m starving.”
“I bet. You slept hard last night.” He winks, nudging you with his shoulder, “Ransom, plates.”
“I’m not the help, Wilson.”
“Well you are to-fuckin-day. Get the plates, trust fund baby.”
You laugh as you move towards the table, getting swept up into another breathless kiss by Bucky before Steve pulls you into his lap, brushing his nose over the back of your shoulder. Ransom and Sam hand out the plates one by one, taking drink orders and handing them out before they take their seats at the long table. You stay in Steve’s lap as you eat, listening as they all chat and cut up a little, teasing the youngest of them, Ransom, and listening intently as Andy talks about his latest case.
“I bet baby girl over here has some questions, hmm?” Bucky says after a while, cutting into his sausage and popping a small piece into his mouth.
You nod as you chew and swallow, before your eyes go wide, “Oh shit! My sister MJ! I bet she’s—”
Ransom slides your phone towards you, “I texted her for you last night and again this morning. Convinced her not to call the cops— she’s a feisty one.”
“Oh God, thank you.” You sigh, glancing over the texts.
“You can call her if you’d like. We can step out.” Steve offers, peering at you over your shoulder.
“No, no. She seems to be pacified for the moment. I’ll call her in a little while. So,” you lead in, “How, um, what is all of this? How do you guys know me, or my mom, to be more specific?”
Steve wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him before he takes a breath, “This is going to sound really strange and it’s a really long story.”
“I got time,” you laugh, “It’s the only reason I came last night. Didn’t expect to get fucked by five dudes, but, you know,” you giggle, “Shit happens.”
“Steve and I,” Bucky starts, “We knew your great-grandmother, Marie-Angelie Paris Laveau of New Orleans. Steve was… sickly.” You nod quickly, having read everything there is to know about the great Steve Rogers, “I had heard that there was this new religion, down south. A woman that claimed to be a healer and Steve was my best friend, so, we decided to check it out in the early forties— wanted to see if she could help him.”
“When we finally got to Louisiana and tracked Marie-Angelie down, it was nothing that Bucky and I had ever seen before.” Steve chuckles, “Your great-grandmother was a beautiful woman, had thousands of followers, just like her mother, and her mother before her.”
“Followers?” You ask, furrowing your brow.
Bucky shifts his eyes to Steve before they land back on you, “You’re a direct descendant of Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen of the French quarter.”
Your eyes widen at the words.
“The elder Marie was a very powerful woman, passed down her knowledge and her gift to her daughters who kept her spirit and her craft alive. Marie-Angelie took one look at Steve and knew she could help. So,” Bucky takes a breath, holding it in his chest for a second before he pushes it out, “We made our offerings, appeased the spirits and we had Steve stay with her for the night.”
“She prayed over me all night. Chanted, offered the spirits many gifts, had me drink this potion that she’d made,” Steve says slowly, “I’m not too sure what happened. I just remember waking up and looking like this. It came with conditions of course, one of which she told us about, the other she didn’t.”
“What were they?” you breathe, engrossed in the story.
“The condition we knew about was that Bucky and I had to join the society.” You raise your eyebrows, prompting Steve to smile, “The elder Marie, your great-great-great-great grandmother entered into a pact with Sam’s great-great-great-great grandfather.”
“He was a farmer,” Sam says after he takes a sip of his coffee, taking over the story, “My great-great-great-great granddaddy went to Marie for a little advice and to have her pray for his crops. He was flat broke, about to lose the farm, Louisiana was going through a terrible drought— he offered Marie the last dollar he had in his pocket. His crop came in more bountiful than ever, in fact, it was the only farm that yielded that season. Made him a millionaire overnight. So, in exchange for her prayers, he offered her and her offspring protection. As long as there's a Laveau bloodline, the Wilson’s will watch over them.”
Silence falls over the room as you blink back at Sam, unable to speak. Bucky leans forward, placing his flesh hand over yours and rubs gently as concern fills his blue eyes, “You okay, honey?”
You nod, closing your eyes as you swallow, “Yeah, I, um, so… okay, so Sam, Steve and you are bound to protect me? Because of this society that was formed?”
“Us too,” Andy adds, “My great-great-great-great grandfather, Reginald Barber was a politician, went to Marie for some help around the same time as Sam’s granddad did, and when she fulfilled his request, he also joined.”
“My grandad is a writer, he too ended up joining the society in the early sixties with your grandmother when his first novel blew up.” Ransom says, “Harland Thrombey.”
“Harland Thrombey, the mystery writer, right? I thought he had a daughter?”
“That’s my mom. When I was born, I took her place in the order.”
You lift your eyebrows, nodding your head, “Wow.” you laugh a little, “So, what exactly do you guys do for me?”
“We just keep you safe. Watch over you, try to fulfill all of your… needs.” Sam answers with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, “Keep the bloodline going, if need be.”
You squint suddenly as the wheels and gears in your brain turn, “Wait so, this is passed down? From generation to generation?”
“Yes.” Andy answers simply.
“So, that means that all of your fathers, had sex with my mother? Am I.. oh my god,” your hands fly to your face, “Am I related to you one you?”
“No, oh my god!” Ransom recoils, his face screwed up in disgust, “The fuck do you think we are, weirdos? No.”
Steve laughs, rubbing your stomach with his large hand, “Your father is James Rhodes. He’s part of the congregation, the followers of your grandmothers. He was chosen for your mother, just like your partner will be chosen for you.”
You blink, your mind empty, “Chosen?”
“It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation.” Steve nods, “Either way, your partner will be someone who will understand our debt to you and your family. If your partner is indeed someone in the society, that person is then removed, so there’s no impropriety, and someone in the congregation will take his place to keep the society full. Once you’re paired with whoever, we all then have a duty to reproduce so our children can take care of yours— again, with women in the congregation who understand our duty, and so on and so forth.”
You fall back against Steve’s chest, slumping a little at all of the information, “It’s a lot,” Sam reassures, “I know, I’m sorry.”
Insane is what it is, you think, rubbing your forehead with your manicured fingers. Somehow though, it all just kind of makes sense, “You said there was another condition? After you and Bucky went to Louisiana? What was it?”
“Me.” Bucky smiles, leaning back into his seat as his eyes fall into his lap.
You glance back at Steve, “I don’t understand.”
“In order for me to achieve this,” Steve motions towards his body, “Something had to be sacrificed, “The spirits chose Bucky. Some years later, after we joined the army—”
You gasp, covering your mouth again, “When he fell from the train.” You finish for him.
Steve just nods, “I put two and two together after a while. I went back to Marie and told her I was done— I wanted out and I didn’t care what happened to me for it. So I ended up just kind of floating through life. Threw myself into my work and saving the world. I didn’t know at the time that some of my blood had gotten into the hands of the Germans during the war. They studied it— noticed that my enzymes were nearly indestructible. They created the super soldier serum to replicate my strength and healing abilities.”
“Hydra, is what they were called. They found me and started experimenting.” A sad smile covers Bucky’s face. You lean forward, cupping his cheek in your hand and rub your thumb just under his eye. His smile turns upward as he nuzzles into your warm palm, “I’m alright.”
“I got wind of Bucky in the eighties, he had assassinated this researcher, they actually got a picture of him. I had to bring him home,” Steve shrugs, “But he was tricky— elusive. I tracked him for a few years but I couldn’t ever get close, and I knew I only had one option at that point.” Steve rests his lips against your shoulder, brushing them back and forth slowly against your warm skin, “I tracked down your grandmother and your mom for help.”
You feel him smile against you and you turn, throwing your arms around his neck as he continues his story, “You were barely walking when I met you the first time. You were so cute, so little. Even though I was still pissed, you stole my heart as soon as I saw you. You were the only innocence in this craziness.”
A tear slips down your cheek. He wipes it away with his fingers, smiling softly at you as you’re overcome with emotion, “Did you used to read to me?” you ask with a shaky voice, the early, fragmented memories you have of a blonde, blue eyed man suddenly making sense.
“Tamerlane by Edgar Allan Poe was your favorite.” he smiles, “That’s how I knew it was you last night. Poe was your favorite, even back then.”
You hug him tightly and feel hands on your back and shoulders, a pair of lips on the top of your head and the side of your face as Andy, Bucky, Ransom, and Sam crowd around you, “We brought you home now.” Sam voices gently, “We’ll take care of you baby. From now until the end of days.”
You let them soothe you. Let them stroke your hair and whisper their sweet nothings. Let them kiss your skin and wipe away the tears as the sun cutting into the room through the windows washes you in warmth. You lean back after what seems like forever, sniffling gently as Steve brushes those fingers underneath your eyes, “I want to meet my mom.”
“Of course. We’ll take you to her whenever you’re ready. She was supposed to be here but, she couldn’t deal with the heartbreak again if it wasn’t you. She’s been looking for you for so long— they both have.”
You exhale deeply, closing your eyes as you rest your head against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him, “Why was I taken?”
“Somebody sent a tip to the police that your mother was living in a commune—” you feel him tense, his tone going harsh, “Just a nosey ass woman who didn’t have anything better to do with her time. Made up some shit about drug trafficking coming out of the house. It was raided while I was in Europe— they took you, put you up for adoption. I should have been there. I should have protected you.”
“You're protecting me now. That’s all that matters.” You whisper, “But,” your voice drops away as you open your eyes, blinking slowly.
Ransom’s massive hand runs up and down your back, “What is it, honey?”
“My sister. My mom and my dad— the people that raised me. I love them.”
“We are not going to take you away from them,” Bucky answers quickly, “They’re a part of you. We understand that.”
“Can’t wait to meet that sister of yours,” Ransom adds, “She seems fun.”
You laugh through the fresh wave of tears that have wetted your face, “She is fun. She has a boyfriend named Peter, he loves you two,” you smile, gesturing towards Steve and Bucky, “He’s gonna shit his pants.”
You close your eyes again, your head starting to pound from all of the information that’s been placed at your feet. Your stomach churns and you shiver, causing Steve to tighten his grip, “Let’s lay you down, huh? That was a lot to take in.”
They all follow you and Steve back into the bedroom where you first woke up that morning. You’re stripped naked again, crowded in the middle of their hulky bodies. They let you cry. They let you talk aimlessly. They let you get angry, and then sad, and then content as you work through your sordid history. One by one, their lips are on yours again. Hands dig into your sides and grip your thighs. Languid thrusts, hot breaths, short whimpers, and long cries fill the room as they make love to you over and over.
Your bones are liquid. Your body, your cunt stretched and used— so sore you’re not even sure your limbs are connected anymore. You come, time and time again, from their mouths, their fingers, their wet, hard cocks. You take it all— two of them stuffing you full while a third occupies your mouth, the other two not-so-patiently waiting for their turn at you.
Sleep tugs at you from every angle after a while and you fade in and out as the day drags on. Women come to you in your dreams— the women of your family. They whisper to you, the great secrets of your long lineage. They smile and lay their hands on you, filling you with their spirits, their love.
You’re suddenly at a large body of water— Bayou St. John. A woman perches by the bank, her hand swishing back and forth in the cool water. You traipse towards her through the tall grass, your feet sinking into the wet ground. You kneel next to her as she sings a native song. She’s wrapped in a red, white, and blue shawl, her eyes sparkling as she turns towards you. She cups your face, running her hand down your cheek and jaw before she reaches into the water and pulls out a large, multicolored fish.
You spring forward, gasping hard and deep as you wake from the vivid dream. You cover your face with your hands as a chill runs down your spine, your forehead covered in a cold sweat. Without thinking, you splay your hand over your stomach as your heart stills. There’s movement behind you— Steve slinks his hand around your middle, settling his hand over your much smaller one.
You peek over your shoulder and he’s staring at you, his lips parted slightly, his blue eyes wide and full of knowing. His words from earlier coming back to you. Your partner will be chosen for you. It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation. You lay back down, curling into him, tracing his nose and jaw, his chin and eyes with your fingers as he blinks back at you.
“Did you see her too?” You breathe. Great-great-great-great grandmother Marie Laveau.
He nods, “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers as Sam, Andy, Ransom, and Bucky all sprawl out around the two of you, “I promise.”
You nod, smiling slowly, “I know.”
You mean it. You know he will— that they all will.
#rooshalloweenficfest#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x black!reader#steve rogers x you#andy barber x reader#andy barber x black!reader#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale x black!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x black!reader#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson x black!reader#steve rogers fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#sam wilson fanfiction#ransom drysdale smut#andy barber smut#bucky barnes smut#sam wilson smut#knives out smut#defending jacob smut
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The Woodchuck Leader Assessment - Chapter 4
DT17 Fanfiction
Summary: When Launchpad’s ability to supervise children is called into question, Dewey tags along on a Junior Woodchuck trip to support his best friend.
Chapter 1
Also cross-posted on fanfiction.net.
***
Dewey slipped into his and Huey’s tent. And found not only Huey, but Violet and at least a half dozen of the other Woodchucks.
“What…”
“Shh!” said Huey.
“Oh yes, I am claiming running through camp in my underpants,” said Doofus as he rubbed his hands together. “Back off; it’s mine!”
No one argued.
“Am I interrupting something?” Dewey snatched his pillow back from one of the other kids.
“We were discussing the implementation of stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols,” said Violet.
Dewey raised an eyebrow. “So what was stage 1?”
“Behaving for Launchpad.”
“And stage 2?”
The faintest smile touched Violet’s beak. “Only behaving for Launchpad.”
“Yeah.” Huey hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m not sure stage 2 is going to be enough, all by itself. I mean, LP’s great, but I don’t know if we can depend on him. If he can’t supervise us… it was like Mr Russell said, there’s nobody else. What am I going to do without my Woodchucks?!” He lunged at Dewey and dragged him towards him.
Dewey extricated his brother’s fingers from his shirt. “Calm down. I don’t care about your Woodchucks. But if what we’re talking about is going to help Launchpad…” Dewey chewed his lip. On the bus, Launchpad had just been, off. What the heck had happened between him and Mr Russell? It had to be something to do with the kid who drowned, but Launchpad didn’t want to talk to him. He was his best friend and Dewey knew if it was something important he’d want to share it with him. The fact he hadn’t… yeah, really off. “So, only behaving for Launchpad…?”
“A combination of multiple children needing walking to the bathroom, Doofus running around in nothing but his underwear…”
“Or, I could ditch the underwear.”
“No. … toilet paper, someone crying for their teddy bear, at least one item of Mr Russell’s clothing hung off a tree, and we make every attempt to respond to his orders with…?”
“Okay, Boomer,” said all the Woodchucks at once.
“Of course, the whole point is if Launchpad comes back we all immediately behave to prove he can control us,” said Huey, “or NO MORE WOODCHUCKS.”
“Boo,” said Dewey. “Huey may actually be right: it’s not enough. Launchpad needs better than that. You don’t just want to behave for him. You’ve got to prove he’s the sort of leader who would do anything to protect you. Here’s what we do: we set up a scenario in which some poor helpless child needs rescuing, because although we know Launchpad sometimes needs help with things, he’d never let anyone he cares about get hurt.”
“Yeah, who…” said Huey.
Dewey stood up and stabbed a finger into the canvas. “And I shall be your damsel in dew-stress!”
***
Launchpad flung the bus door open. “Aw man, LP. What are you doing?” He’d fallen asleep. Outside, the rain had lifted and the morning was wet and cold. “You can’t tell your Woodchucks they gotta sleep out in nature when you spend the night on the nice warm bus.”
He crammed his hat back on his head and jogged back down to the campsite. He slipped in the wet leaves and slid down a short section of the path, which resulted in a rather painful stop courtesy of a medium sized boulder, but at least it bought him a couple extra seconds.
Launchpad skidded into the campsite. It was quiet, too quiet. In his absence, Violet and Huey should have been awake and setting up a campfire for breakfast. But, maybe, he’d avoided the embarrassment of getting caught.
A tent flap opened and Jack emerged, rubbing blearily at his eyes.
Launchpad grabbed up a piece of firewood, then just pulled himself up short of pegging it into the firepit. He didn’t need to pretend to set up the fire.
“Well, there you are,” Jack grumbled. “When you said you wanted me to help I didn’t realise you were going to dump the kids on me for the entire night!”
Even with the realisation he didn’t need to look busy for Jack the man’s words made Launchpad’s heart sink. He’d messed up. He’d ditched his Woodchucks and even though an adult had been there to look after them… he’d left them alone with Jack Russell.
“Where are the kids anyway?” Launchpad lifted the flap to Huey and Dewey’s tent. Empty. Great. At least they knew how to take care of themselves. Nothing would be wrong. This was just something else for Jack to put in his report.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” said Jack. “I was up half the night telling kids to walk themselves to the toilet. And… where is my hat?”
Launchpad spotted it, swinging high up on a tree branch above Jack’s tent. “I think it fell into a tree.”
Huey exploded into the camp. “Launchpad! We went to get firewood… Dewey’s stuck on the bridge over the river!”
Launchpad’s heart caught. “Oh no, Dewey!”
“Wait, stuck on a bridge how?” said Jack. “Shouldn’t you just… go and unstick him?”
“He’s… really stuck,” said Huey, “Launchpad needs to come pull him out because, you know, he’s strong and a good Woodchuck leader, so…”
The other Woodchucks emerged from their tents, rubbing blearily at eyes, wondering what all the ruckus was about. Launchpad gulped. This was all he needed with Jack here. And then he felt bad, because this was about Dewey, not his assessment. He hadn’t been very nice to him on the bus last night. If he’d got hurt or got himself in trouble after how Launchpad had treated him, he’d feel terrible. At least being stuck on a bridge didn’t sound that bad. In fact, he did wonder why Huey hadn’t just pulled his brother off himself.
“Because he’s a good…” Jack slapped a hand to his forehead. “Launchpad, your damn kids are setting you up.”
“Just be quiet, my best friend needs me. Come on Woodchucks, to the river!”
Usually, it took a bit of coaxing to get them moving but they responded immediately. They all followed Huey, Jack trailing behind them and grumbling all the way.
The river was flowing fast after the rain last night and the roar made Launchpad’s guts tighten. This far down from the swimming hole the river cut through a gully with a rope bridge strung across, the water surging and gurgling beneath. Dewey was halfway across the bridge, his leg tangled in a loose rope, his top half hanging upside down from the bridge with his hands swinging. “Oh, help. I have fallen and my foot is stuck. I cannot get up.” At least he didn’t sound particularly panicked.
“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.
“Hang on, Dewey. I’m coming to get you.” Launchpad put a hand on the wooden stake that anchored the bridge.
“Wait.” Jack grabbed Launchpad’s sleeve.
Launchpad yanked his arm back, but slowed.
“Send these two out after them. They’re half your weight put together and their two pairs of hands will probably get that… classic example of a Woodchuck knot around that poor kid’s ankle undone a lot quicker.”
“That’s… a good idea,” said Launchpad, although the rope bridge looked sturdy and wouldn’t be in any danger of snapping under his weight.
Violet and Huey both exchanged glances. “It would be better if Launchpad did it,” said Huey, rubbing at the back of his head.
“Yeah, just as I thought. You cannot control these kids, Launchpad. You should’ve seen the antics they were getting up to last night. Pretty sure they’ve set this whole thing up to try and make you look good.”
“But I’m really stuck… urgh, forget it!” Dewey rolled himself back onto the bridge and tugged at the knot around his ankle.
Wait, he wasn’t really stuck? Oh. It finally sunk in. Launchpad turned to Violet and Huey as his chest tightened. “You two… set me up?”
“Stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols weren’t enough. We went to stage 3. Dewey’s idea… but yes,” Violet mumbled into her chest.
Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “Dewey, come on, get off the bridge, its dangerous out there.”
“I’m fine. I just need to get this knot off… hang on…”
“And you two…” His two most senior Woodchucks looked at their feet. And though it hurt they’d pulled one over on him, Launchpad knew they’d only been trying to help. He swallowed, and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to set up something like this to help me, okay? I really thought Dewey was in trouble.”
“But it wasn’t just for you!” Huey burst out. “It was for all the Woodchucks. If they make you quit then no one will want us and we’ll have no more Woodchucks, and I… I can’t live without Woodchucks!” He fell to his knees and put his face in his hands.
“I too would find it quite devastating,” said Violet.
“Wait, who told you that?”
“I did, genius,” Jack snorted. “Along with a few other truths while you were pouting on the bus.”
Launchpad’s fists bunched at his sides. He’d left his Woodchucks alone with Jack. What had he been thinking? “Like what?”
“I explained how failure badges are supposed to work. Apparently you’ve been flashing yours around like some kind of trophy and giving these kids the wrong idea. Just like you did as a kid. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to get you to understand, I never could get the concept through your thick head.”
“Don’t speak to me like that. And how dare you make these kids feel like they should be ashamed of…”
“It’s not about shame! It’s about reality, and realistic expectations, and not setting these kids up for failure. I don’t know how you fluked your way through to a leadership role Launchpad, but when the cards come down you’re just going to get somebody killed! You know, like you did Calvin. At least then you were a kid; you had an excuse. Not anymore.”
Launchpad’s chest heaved, but this time he didn’t feel like running. “You have no idea, do you? We only went down to the river that night because we had something to prove. If you’d encouraged us instead of bullying us in front of the other kids, just because we failed a couple times, we would’ve waited until we had a chance to try for the badge again. We were kids, it was the only way we thought we could get you to stop. But it was never what were were good at or not, it was always you. You were in charge, Jack. You had the power. And you just used it to make us fell like we were never good enough no matter what we did!”
“Wait, Calvin… he was the kid who drowned?” said Huey tentatively.
Launchpad swallowed hard. “Yeah. He jumped in trying to save me.”
“Oh, Launchpad,” said Dewey. “That’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know that now.”
“I’m… I’m going to give you a hug.” Dewey picked himself up and rushed back, but tripped as the still tied knot brought him up short. He smacked face first onto the bridge, sending it swinging wildly, then rolled right off the edge.
Launchpad’s heart caught. “Dewey!”
The rope jerked taut and Dewey swung by his ankle above the roaring water below. “Oh, um, now I really do need help?”
Launchpad rushed out onto the bridge. He grabbed at the rope and started hauling it up arm over arm.
“LP, I’m really sorry,” said Dewey as he was slowly raised. “We didn’t think this out at all. I should’ve got stuck up a tree or something.”
Launchpad gritted his teeth and hauled on the rope faster. “Heh. Don’t worry about that, buddy. No harm done.” Come on. Come on. Because despite Dewey’s calm, Launchpad could see the knot he’d been picking at slowly start to unravel.
“Woah, maybe slow down? I’m getting dizzy.”
Huey and Violet must have seen it too. They rushed out onto the bridge and leaned through the ropes, reaching out for Dewey as he neared.
A frown creased Dewey’s beak. “Seriously guys, I’m fine…”
Launchpad yanked up another loop of rope and swiped at Dewey’s ankle. The bridge bucked, and the rope slipped free. Dewey’s eyes widened, arm outstretched, then his back smashed into the water beneath and he disappeared. He was gone for a split second, then he resurfaced. “It’s okay… can… swim…” He choked off as a slosh of water slapped in the face and went down his throat, and then the current pulled him away.
Launchpad’s hands tightened on the bridge. No. Not this time. He slid under the rope.
“Launchpad, you idiot!” Jack yelled. “You’re not going to be able to…”
The rest of his words were lost as Launchpad slammed into the water below. The shock of cold bit at him. The current snatched at him. Yeah. Far stronger than it looked. There was no way he was letting Dewey brave this alone. He spluttered, and surfaced.
“Launchpad! Violet and I are going to get a rope down steam. You got to get out before the waterfall.”
Of course there was a waterfall. Launchpad saw a flash of blue ahead and struck out with strong strokes, not so much moving himself through the water, but keeping his head above it as the current propelled him along.
Jack was right; there wasn’t a swimming badge on Launchpad’s sash. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to swim. Six months after everything had happened with Calvin, and after he’d convinced his parents he did in fact want to return to Woodchucks now Mr Russell was gone, he’d earned it. He could still remember Ms H, who was much nicer than Mr Russell, congratulating him and pressing the badge into his palm.
He’d stared at the embroidered circled as tears filled his eyes. “I… I don’t deserve this.”
She’d got down on her knees and put her hands on his trembling shoulders. “Sweetheart, its okay. I get it. You don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. The badge isn’t the important bit. You’ve still got the skill, and as long as you know that’s there whenever you might need it you don’t have to prove that to anyone else.”
Launchpad choked as a wash of water slapped into his face. Keeping his head above water became harder and harder as the current picked up. He spotted his friend ahead, clinging desperately to a rock. This close to the waterfall, roaring clearly ahead of them now, the water snatched at Dewey and he whimpered as his fingers slipped across the rough surface. Launchpad let a really vicious snarl of water grab him and hurl him towards the rock. He grunted as his shoulder slammed into it and pulled Dewey into his chest just as the boy’s numb fingers lost their grip.
“LP…” Dewey immediately grappled for Launchpad, his fingers digging like claws into his neck.
Launchpad spluttered as he was shoved under. He heaved himself up out of the water with one arm on the rock, and clutched Dewey to his chest with the other. He hauled them both up high enough they were no longer in danger of getting dunked and the force of the water wasn’t strong enough to pull him away. “It’s… it’s okay… I got ya.”
Dewey’s breath came in spluttering gasps. “Sorry… I… trying to make you look good…”
“I know.”
“It’s cold.”
Launchpad started to shiver as the ice water bit into his skin. “Hey, Violet and Huey are working on it. They’re going to get us out. Probably use maths or something. They seem to be good at that.”
“LP, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you… I didn’t know about your friend…” Dewey sniffed, and pressed his face against Launchpad’s neck.
“Right now I’m only thinking about you.”
A rope, attached to a short fat log, sailed out over them and hit Launchpad in the back. He grabbed it.
“Tie it to Dewey!” Huey yelled from the bank.
Launchpad untied the rope and looped it about Dewey’s waist. “You’re not going to drown,” he said, looking his friend right in the eye as his fingers automatically tied the knots he’d done a million times. “I won’t let that happen.”
“LP, look out!” Huey shouted.
A log spun down the river towards them. Launchpad jerked the knot tight about Dewey’s waist, then shoved him off towards the bank. He pushed his friend clear of the log, but it collected Launchpad across the middle, swept him off the rock, and dragged him under. The quickening torrent grabbed him, and suddenly Launchpad was back in the hell of breathless tumbling terror he’d found himself in as a child.
But at least he’d got Dewey out.
***
A long way below the waterfall, Launchpad pulled himself up onto the bank and heaved out a stomach-full of water. Clear of the torrent he gulped deep breaths, his head resting against his forearms, too heavy to lift.
It had taken every ounce of his strength to reach the bank. His body trembled with cold and exertion. He’d been tossed at the whim of the current, slammed into anything and everything. Even as an adult, as strong as he was, it had been terrifying. He’d thought there was no way he’d be able to save himself, right up until he’d felt the pebbles of the shore beneath his feet. He hadn’t drowned. But all he could think was how much scarier that ordeal would be for a child. How scary had it been for Calvin to fight to save himself in the darkness, and fail? Launchpad shuddered, and as he finally caught his breath his gulps for air became sobs.
“LP!” Huey skidded to his knees at his side. “Thank goodness, you scared us. Are you okay?”
“Dewey?” Was all he had the breath to say.
“It’s okay. We got him out.”
Launchpad whimpered and let his head drop back against his arms.
The pebbles crunched around him as the rest of his Woodchucks caught up with Huey. Launchpad felt small hands squeeze his arms and press against his back.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Huey. “Violet and I have everything under control. She’s called for help, and… all you gotta do is catch your breath.”
Chapter 5
#ducktales fanfiction#ducktales#dt17#ducktales 2017#launchpad#launchpad mcquack#dt17 launchpad#dewey duck#huey duck#violet saberwing#disney ducks
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☆—Spread the Love! | Valentines Mix-up
DJ Ben stretches out in his chair, yawning silently to himself. The Delibirds flew out just a few hours prior, and he feels nothing but utmost confidence in them. He’d never bring it up to Mary, but he still can’t believe how the messages managed to get mixed up for three years running. He’s determined to make this Valentine’s Day go as smoothly as possible. Delibird are known for their innate delivery skills. How could anything go wrong?
Ben’s going to show Mary that letting him take the reigns of this event wasn’t a mistake. Everything was going to go right this year! He has a good feeling about these Delibird as they return, one-by-one, to the Radio Tower. Passing around nicely-decorated Pokepuffs to each obedient Delibird as reward, DJ Ben can’t help but feel all too pleased with himself about the event.
Such a shame he mixed the Delibirds up on their way out.
What DJ Ben brings to you, under the cut, is a tragic tale of woe. Each Valentine has been preserved in its original state. None of the people who actually received each Valentine were the intended recipients.
To further add to the confusion, each Valentine was randomized three separate times along with their sender counterparts. Thanks to the based RNG gods, some people received quite the coincidental string of Valentines…
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Green
CONTENTS: A Love Ball with candy inside. “You like pink stuff right? Some guy I know from Johto gave it to me."
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu
CONTENTS: A fresh and new store bought cape for Silver. “I look forward to where you’re going in life.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Draze
CONTENTS: A pastel pink card with “Happy Galentine’s Day” written on the front. The message inside reads “Thanks for being a good friend. If you ever need a favor or maybe just somebody to rough up a bunch of weirdos for you, you know who to call ;) -Anzu P.S. This is from my kid sister.” A colorful drawing of Alice wearing one of her iconic stage costumes is included on a separate sheet of paper, signed by Yuzu in the corner. There is also a small bag containing some homemade cookies from her.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance
CONTENTS: Dear Q,
Roses are red
I don’t want to boast
But you’re pretty cool
And smarter than most!
~Q
P.S. Self-love is important.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan
CONTENTS: A collection of old candies that Clair and Lance used to eat with a note that says “I remember you liking these old candies. Here’s hoping you still do."
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo
CONTENTS: Dear Katlyn,
Roses are red
Your music is fine
Your drumming Lucario
Is cooler than mine.
~Q
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice
CONTENTS: Dear Claudia,
Roses are red
Fermata’s a jerk
Your dancing is cool
But will this rhyme work?
~Q
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Giovanni
CONTENTS: A teddy bear for Kris. “I’ve heard of your success with the Gym Challenge! The Elite 4 welcome your challenge any time.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn
CONTENTS: “Remember that old house in the forest? I found this up when we were there and I only came across it when I did some cleaning recently. -Morty”. Inside a gift box is a shining Dragon Fang, almost like it had been polished recently.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Moros
WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac
CONTENTS: A basket full of Valentine-related things in a very particular shade of bright pink. There are several roses, a few handfuls of foil-wrapped chocolate hearts, a big bag of heart-shaped gummies, and one large, very soft Luvdisc plush. There’s no card, just a tag that says, ‘TO: Lovrina FROM: M’
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous
WHO RECEIVED IT: Lovrina
CONTENTS: With an image of a beautiful Alolan sunset on the horizon, the inside is a more explosive scene—of glitter! Enjoy that mess.
The loving message to go with it?
“Fuck you buddy.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia
CONTENTS: A piece of paper with the following written in pen: “I hate your stinking guts! You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. -Anzu”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair
CONTENTS: Dear Daigo,
Roses are red
I wrote this with passion
but what I can’t give you
Is a new sense of fashion.
~Q
VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn
WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu
CONTENTS: 8 Pepper Chocolates for Brendan. “I hear eating something spicy can get someone pumped up and boosts competition. Here’s looking to our next Contest.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia
CONTENTS: Motorcycle shaped Cookies for Anzu. “You ride a motorcycle correct?”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Silver
CONTENTS: A homemade smudging kit with written instructions on how to cleanse your home (or gym) of negative energy. A note reads “Clair, I’m sorry this isn’t much of a valentines gift, but I thought you might get some use out of it anyway. Happy Valentines Day. -Morty”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Leaf
CONTENTS: A sheet of paper with the word "Nerd” scrawled in pencil.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Ariana Natsumi
CONTENTS: Mixed Chocolates and Candy for Green. “I do not remember what you enjoyed, but I hope you enjoy sweets.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Lillie
CONTENTS: It’s a Pokemon Egg! What could be inside? The only thing that came with it is a note that says “This egg should hatch in a few days. Enjoy your new Pokemon! -Morty”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous
WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo
CONTENTS: The card has a pair of Pikachu rubbing cheeks with their tails entwined on the front. On the inside is—oh no, glitter bomb! Enjoy that mess.
Only one word is written inside.“Dork.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Red
CONTENTS: Homemade vanilla cookies that are somewhat shaped like Togepi. A note reads “Happy Valentines Day. I hope you enjoy these. -Morty” He’s only a little nervous that a certain Pokemon of his might have messed with one of the batches he made. Hopefully they taste fine.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Brendan
CONTENTS: A box of loose leaf tea stored in individual cloth pouches. Different blends include citrus, lavender, chamomile, mint, rose and matcha (because why not be obvious?) A note attached reads “Happy Valentines Day. I made most of these blends myself. I hope you like them. -Morty”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Whitney
CONTENTS: A chocolate flower. “Hilarious right? Happy Valentines Day.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous
WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac
CONTENTS: On the front of the card is a man and woman showing their tanned Alolan summer bodies. Inside, there’s a foil for… er, intimate bedroom activities.
‘No need to thank me.’
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn
CONTENTS: A Red and Black Hat for Ethan.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice
CONTENTS: A pink note that reads “Sorry that I lost my temper on you. I owe you one for helping me find that Clefairy Doll. P.S. If you find yourself in Olivine City anytime soon, here’s my phone number. I’ll treat you to a free meal for helping me out. -Anzu"
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty
CONTENTS: Dear Zia,
Roses are red
You’re fond of a ghost
They give me the creeps
But you’re still engrossed.
~Q
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin
CONTENTS: A shiny new Pokeball with a Gastly inside, adorning a light purple ribbon. “Happy Valentines Day! I wanted to give her to you sooner but she just hatched last week. Her name is Salvia. -Morty”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Barry
CONTENTS: Goomy shaped Chocolates for Red. “Send me photos of your little partner!”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Kris
CONTENTS: A note reads: “Sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you lately. Hope this helps make up for it.” Attached is a small bag with homemade cookies from Yuzu and several pieces of store bought chocolates.
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia
CONTENTS: Strawberries covered with Chocolates for Leaf. “I’ve heard of your recent successes! I’m very happy for you.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu
WHO RECEIVED IT: Red
CONTENTS: A small bag of homemade cookies with a note attached reads “Yuzu made too many extra cookies for Valentines Day, so she asked me to help her get rid of some. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney
WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo
CONTENTS: Attached with a box of cookies with jam in the centre is a card with a !!very!! cute picture of snubbull cuddling. Inside reads:
❤ Happy Valentine’s Day!! ❤
For White Day, we should go somewhere fun! Or even before! What do you say? But don’t think you can forget about White Day just because you’re a shut-in! 😠 Okay? I’ll be expecting a gift in return! 💕
- Whitney ❤
VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin
WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty
CONTENTS: Dear Anzu,
Roses are red
You’re lacking a heart
But the real problem is
You’re not very smart.
~Q
VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty
WHO RECEIVED IT: Sun
CONTENTS: A pouch full of wild berries from the Ilex Forest. It seems that Morty had excellent luck when he went to gather them; there are a few Sitrus berries in the pile. “I wanted to share the wealth. Hope you’re doing well. -Morty”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous
WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin
CONTENTS: From the day I met you at the battle frontier, I knew something was aloaf. My head got all dizzy for the first time in years and I knew, it had to be you. Your just the person of my dreams, and I hope that someday we can be together, though we have things to discuss. Feel free to visit anytime, as I know your always going going. You know where to find me! :)
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan
CONTENTS: Some Strawberry Marshmallows “This is thanks for you sister keeping Mimi company, but you can keep some I guess.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia
CONTENTS: Chocolates for Ariana Natsumi. “Happy Valentines.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Green
CONTENTS: Some really messy and sloppily made chocolate. “Torra wanted to give this to you. Happy Valentines.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu
CONTENTS: Store Bought Chocolates “Happy Valentines.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn
WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia
CONTENTS: Homemade Chocolates for Barry with a note. “You probably don’t realize how much you’ve done for me. Here’s to another good year.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty
CONTENTS: A chocolate sphere. A solid sphere of chocolate. "Isn’t this funny?”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo
WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair
CONTENTS: Halloween Candy. “Boo. You like scary stuff right.”
VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney
WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance
CONTENTS: There’s a personal photo printed on the front of this card of Goldenrod City’s Gym Leader Whitney crowded by a group of pokémon: a smiling clefable, miltank, aipom, wigglytuff, and a bibarel whose flat eyes stare into your soul.
Inside are a bunch of stickers with this same exact picture, but smaller!
‘Sunny,Happy Valentine’s, Sunny! I’m thinking about you all the way here in Johto. 💕 Do they have a photo booth over there you can take sticker pictures with? You should find out, pronto!! Or send me some cute pictures of you and your pokémon!
Love you lots! 😘
❤️ Whitney ❤️ ’
VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance
WHO RECEIVED IT: Red
CONTENTS: A Black, Blue, and Red scarf made with Lance’s color scheme for Morty. "Stay warm.” is all the note says.
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Queer Analysis - Sparks Fly
Hi guys! 👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻
So, I sorta took an involuntary hiatus from this blog and Tumblr in general, this was due to a bunch of personal shit that have mostly been sorted out now! I’ve missed you all and did not mean to leave you hanging like this after my rep show, but like I said all hell broke loose in my personal life when I got back from Manchester… I had an amazing time at the concert though and I’m still very much a part of the Gaylor/Kaylor community, I did not stop believing 😂 ❤
I am very glad to be back and hope to be getting into running this blog again from now on! ❤
Today I’m back with yet another analysis for that drunk anon from so long ago, anon, if you’re out there I hope you’re still reading these! ❤❤❤
Today’s song is Sparks Fly and I definitely feel like I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t link you all to the 2007 original version which some claim to be even gayer than the studio version from Speak Now…Here’s the performance and here’s the lyrics to this gayness from 2007, although as will soon become apparent I think the 2010 version is pretty darn gay too! 🌈🌈🌈
As far as I’m concerned this is yet another Taymily song and it has strong connection to my latest analysis (Fearless) so check that out if you haven’t already!
That’s right my dear gays, Theo The Taymily Trash is baaaaaack, let’s gooooo!!
Before we do though, I have to give my usual disclaimers, it might’ve been a while but I’m not letting up on those! Lyrics used in this analysis comes from AZLyrics so all cred for that goes to them. Also I am not Taylor Swift, or anyone else mentioned in this analysis, nor do I personally know Taylor Swift or anyone else I mention here, as such I have no way of knowing who or what Taylor’s songs are about and may very well be completely clueless in the matter. Therefore what follows below is nothing but speculation and as always everyone else is invited to join in the conversation too, I don’t in any way have monopoly on analyzing or interpreting Taylor’s songs 😊
Now, let’s actually gooooo!
--
The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm
And I'm a house of cards
--
Okay, say what you will, but to me these opening lines seem very gay.
While it’s certainly not unheard of for people to find the way men walk attractive (For some reason? I’m v gay) I feel like it’s significantly more common to view (and to some degree oversexualize, but that’s a conversation for another time) the way a woman moves as a reason for why people find her attractive. Think of the seductive wiggling of hips that they can’t even resist programming into VIDEO GAMES in order to give female characters that feminine, seductive air…
Wow, objectification of women really is disgusting, huh? Remember however, lesbians/non-straight women can never have the male gaze and therefore they can never be predatory towards women in the same way men can, even when they’re using common tropes and imagery to describe a woman as attractive.
Long story short, I’m just trying to prove the point that Taylor Swift is gay, not accuse her of oversexualizing women because she literally isn’t capable of doing so (at least not to the same degree a straight man is.)
Okay, so I’m only on the opening lines and I’ve already gotten incredibly sidetracked, let’s get back to it…
All I’m saying is that describing the way someone moves as attractive has more feminine connotations and therefore that line is gayyyyyy.
So to summarize, the way the latest object of Taylor’s affections moves has our curly-haired lesbian weak in the knees and at any moment she may simply fall to the ground, blown away by this rainstorm of a woman, like a fragile house of cards would be by a gust of powerful wind.
--
You're the kind of reckless
That should send me runnin'
But I kinda know that I won't get far
--
There it is again, that word, “reckless”…It’s been a while since I did an analysis so I’ll remind you that we’ve previously established that “reckless” or “dangerous” or some variant thereof is a word commonly used by Ms. Swift to describe same-sex attraction, or more often, indulging in one’s same-sex attraction.
From a career standpoint it’s reckless and inadvisable, but somehow she never can seem to help herself and even though she knows this woman is exactly the kind to cause her to “slip up”, be reckless and indulge she also knows that it’s useless to try and distance herself from her new love.
She knows she’s bound to give into temptation, because regardless of what you may have heard homosexuality is in no way a choice and no exercise in self-control of any kind will make it go away.
Taylor can try running as she’s been advised to do, but she won’t get far. If she doesn’t fall for this woman there will be another down the line, Taylor can’t outrun her “recklessness”, her attraction to other women and this one in particular.
--
And you stood there in front of me
Just close enough to touch
Close enough to hope you couldn't see
What I was thinking of
--
Let’s address the elephant in the room, y’all say Dress or So It Goes or some other song of your choice from Reputation is Taylor’s dirtiest, sexiest song to date, but have you people LISTENED to Sparks Fly? (And Treacherous for that matter) come on, I can’t be the only one getting a strong sex vibe from Sparks Fly!
What I’m trying to say is, this could either be a dirty lyric where Taylor is either in public with her lover and is tempted to touch her (in a way inappropriate for public settings?) and hopes people or (if they’re not dating yet and Taylor isn’t sure her feelings are requited) Emily can’t tell that all Taylor can think when looking at this girl in front of her is dirty thoughts.
Or it could be a sweeter, more innocent, kind of heartbreaking lyric where Taylor hasn’t told Emily how she feels and so isn’t sure if her feelings are requited or even if the other girl is gay.
It’s that kind of heartbreaking thing where you want to touch or kiss somebody who you really like, but you have to hold back because you aren’t sure if that person would be into it. In that case the thing Taylor hopes the crush can’t tell she’s thinking of isn’t necessarily sex or anything dirty, but sweet things (such as holding hands or kissing) she isn’t sure the (possibly straight/not interested) lady would like to do.
The lines could be significantly more queer-coded if we imagine Taylor isn’t just scared of being rejected, but also of Emily not being gay and thus being creeped out or made uncomfortable by Taylor’s advances, a common fear among lesbians, but again, we CANNOT be predatory in the same way men can!!!!!!
Annnnd I’m sidetracked again..............
Alternatively she has the common gay fear of any kind of PDA and thus hopes no one can tell she feels like being gaily affectionate towards her girlfriend in public, she’s not yet fearless.
--
Drop everything now
Meet me in the pouring rain
Kiss me on the sidewalk
Take away the pain
--
Kissing in the rain is a motif Taylor often uses to describe a grand romantic gesture or the first move in a relationship. It’s a romantic trope that makes one think of the kind of romantic movies Taylor has admitted to growing up on.
But here there’s also an other relevant lines, the “drop everything now” may imply that her girlfriend is busy and has a lot going on, or is far away Taylor wants her to drop all that and come spend time with her girl.
If we think of the fact that Taylor and Emily started going out while touring it’s easy to understand why they’d have a lot going on and maybe wouldn’t have time for personal affairs such as relationships, but here Taylor wants them to drop all obligations for a second and just spend some romantic time together…
In a Taymily narrative the kissing in the rain brings the thought to Fearless another song I believe to be about them. In that song Taylor describes wanting to “dance” (or be affectionate) in a parking lot, a very public space, here she wants to be kissed on the sidewalk, in other words another very public space.
In Fearless there’s a line suggesting this is Taymily’s first kiss (at least in public) and poor Taylor is so nervous that she’s shaking, but as soon as they actually start kissing the fear goes away, in Sparks Fly Taylor wants the pain taken away by a kiss. In a song that seems largely happy or at least hopeful a line about pain struck me as out of place at first glance, but if we dig deeper and connect this song to Fearless in no longer feel that’s the case.
The pain can either be the aforementioned fear of judgement from the public or from people around them who think the relationship is ill-advised (because it’s gay) that play a large role in Fearless (where they ultimately overcome that fear with the power of their love.) Or the pain can be the struggle of having to keep their relationship secret and of being closeted, that pain matters little when it’s just the two of them spending time together and being in love and/or intimate, then the closeting seems like a small sacrifice to make, even insignificant., because all that matters in that situation is their love for each other and being a couple suddenly become much easier. A simple kiss or touch when alone can take away the burden of that pain. (“When you get me alone, it's so simple”)
--
'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile
Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down
Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around
'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile
--
The line about the sparks and the smile is simply Taylor acknowledging that her and this girl have mad chemistry, the kind that produce sparks even from the simplest actions such as a smile. Teenage Taylor was gay for Emily’s smile #confirmed
The other lines? Well, yet again this seems like sexy-times to me, intense, hungry eye contact as you turn off or dim the lights in a room where it seems there’s just the two of you qualifies as soft foreplay to me. The line about that intense stare haunting Taylor, yeah, um, sex flashbacks…
*Stops impulse to adopt mom-voice and start yelling at Taylor about how she’s twelve and this is inappropriate*
If we want to get our minds out of the gutter it could also be the lights dimming on a stage and a last reassuring or loving look between lovers before the start of a show. The haunting could be about how those pre-show looks is one of the things that haunt Taylor when she later tries to get over the relationship, but since we’ve previously established that she had a version of the song including that line in 2007 (when Taymily were still very much dating) I think that’s unlikely tbh…
--
My mind forgets to remind me
You're a bad idea
--
Taylor knows she’s being reckless falling for a girl, but as her mind races with all the things they could and should do (both innocent and dirty to a degree that can rival rep-era Tay) she “forgets” why being with Emily is so “inadvisable”.
--
You touch me once and it's really something,
You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be.
--
That chemistry strikes again, a simple touch, or a kiss can lead to so much more (both metaphorically and literally) and here it does, they have sex, probably for the first time. I’m not saying this is Taylor losing her virginity (remember that car that had a tendency to get stuck on backroads at night during her high school years?) but the older Emily may have been hesitant to get physical with Taylor, not wanting to pressure her, but when they finally do sleep together Emily realizes Taylor is more experienced (or “better”) than she assumed.
This is actually getting slightly uncomfortable to me now seeing how Taylor was underage at the time and I don’t want to imply or read things into lyrics written by a minor that may not be there, but I think the sexual overtones in this song is pretty clear.
--
I'm on my guard for the rest of the world
But with you I know it's no good
--
I think what Taylor is saying here is that she’s usually careful about who she lets into her life and emotionally opens up to (and perhaps also who she sleeps with, just to go with the sex theme)
She’s usually careful who she shows her true colors to so to speak 🌈🌈
But with Emily she just felt this instant connection and knew there was no point in trying to hide her feelings for her as it was clear right away they felt the same way about each other.
--
And I could wait patiently but I really wish you would...
--
The mention of patiently waiting honestly just makes me think this entire song is Taylor basically begging Emily to make a move, to kiss (or sleep with) her already! She’s saying “Come on, I want you, I’m ready and done waiting for you to make a move!”
--
(Chorus)
--
I'll run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild.
--
Running your fingers through someone’s hair strikes me as a much more enjoyable activity to engage in if the person in question has long hair, something stereotypically associated with girls, just saying… 🌈 🌈 🌈
--
Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right.
And lead me up the staircase
Won't you whisper soft and slow?
I'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show.
--
Before we continue I just have to say, I’ve always thought the line is “it’s just STRONG enough to make it feel right” not “wrong”, as in the effect that person’s gaze is having on Taylor is strong enough that whatever they’re about to do (sex) feels right and good, but that might just be me mishearing the line. 🤔
Moving on though, she’s saying the way her partner looks at her is an aphrodisiac; it’s making Taylor want her.
Then she’s being led up a staircase, in the original 2007 version I think she’s being led onto a dance floor (which make the “wild lights” make more sense), but since dance is often used as a metaphor for sex and/or sexuality (x) (in fact, In 1698, it may as well have been sex) that slight change doesn’t ruin my reading of the song.
In literature reaching the top of a staircase is often read as a new beginning and here it seems to be the beginning of another step in Taylor and Emily’s relationship.
Emily whispers something in Taylor’s ear as they head up the staircase (towards the bedroom? The lyrics from All Too Well seems to imply the bedroom is up the stairs as they head down the stairs in the middle of the night to get to the kitchen, presumably from the bedroom)
Personally I’ve never been able to figure out if Emily whispers the thing about the firework show or if her whisper is something more risque that we don’t get to hear and Taylor’s the one who says the thing about the fireworks?
I’m inclined to believe the latter, so as Emily whispers something not for our ears Taylor tells us she’s mesmerized by this woman, in the same way she gets mesmerized by firework shows, something we know she likes quite a lot.
In the 2007 version the line is “you make it like a firework show” interesting, since fireworks are often used as metaphor for orgasms… 😏
No, but, SERIOUSLY; I’m not insane or overly dirty-minded, am I? I’m not the only one who thinks this one is CLEARLY about sex, right?
--
(Chorus)
--
That’s it guys, hope you enjoyed reading and that you didn’t miss me too much while I was gone ❤ Next up on the analysis list is Ours the last on the list of requests from my favorite drunken anon! 😊❤ If you have any ideas for other Taylor songs I should analyze feel free to send me an ask or ten 😊🌈
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4-1 Reaction
Rules:
Q = Me, Quonit.
BF = Bardic Feline, the friend that made me spend 30 dollars on the game and whom I am messaging
I don’t use those when I send the messages close enough my username doesn’t appear.
Any typos (unless they are funny and part of the conversation) will be fixed.
Index
Q: new game
Turnabout Trump
hmmm
Q: wooohhhhh this looks weird
it's a lot more animated so far
painter
paintings
candle!
sad music
spiders and sards
who loose
bottle
blood
Q: cards
RING
RING
RING
who is in trouble
AH THE BACKGROUND WERE REDONE
i need to know the year dammit
well april 20... 7 years after... april 20 2028
Apollo!!!
who is this dude he looks ever so slightly recognizable
Q: one moment let me look at the court record and that book button i wanna press all the things before i listen to this conversation
YAY EXAMINING THE EXAMINED IS BACK
aw apollo is very happy with his job
wohhhh i can also slide the thing instead of pressing the arrows on the side
dammit i recognize this name... hmmm...
that phoenix guy person or something...
victim alright
BACK TO THE CONVERSATION
NO I WANNA PRESS THE BOOK BUTTON
THAT'S A SAVE BUTTON!!! YESSSS
Q: and it asks me if i wanna go to the title screen instead of just taking em there!!! this isawesome
Q: Apollo is great so far
APOLLO IS FINE
Kristoph: Don't say you're fine quite so much
shut up
ya maybe the client should introduce himself to me
Apollo: The defendant has been accused of murder
what other things should people be accused of in this game
hello stupid head introduce yourself to me
Stupid head Phoenix stupid: So you're-
Apollo: Fine! I-I'm fine!
APOLLO IS FINE
yes Apollo is now mr.fine
Phoenix you have an odder name you can't say that
Q: Apollo! Be confident!
apollo is still great
i like the new font
THE FAR SHOTS
BF: Apollo is so great
Q: NO
THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PAINTED AND BRIGHTER
whatever
hey judge
one moment let me listen to this awesome music
omg it's window payne
BF: And “I’m fine!” Is basically his catchphrase as I’m sure you’ve noticed
Q: i like that phrase
BF: And you’ve no doubt been introduced to the concept of his “Chords of Steel” workouts. (Basically he yells a lot to pump himself up)
Q: oh! i was wondering if he made that up th get out of something but alright.
BF: With that in mind, you should know that there is totally official art of Apollo in like the Defendant’s lobby or something, DOING his Chords of Steel exercise
Q: yessss
BF: (I.E. screaming into the “camera”)
Q: i wanna see
I have this grudge against Gavin already for some reason. That is just the emotion he evokes from me.
BF: While Kristoph sits on the couch just behind him, looking wholly undisturbed
BF: With earplugs in his ears
Q: yessss
STATE YOUR NAME STUPID
SEE THE JUDGE KNOWS HIM
FINALLY
BF: Hahaha gonna let you form your own opinions on Kris, I have very strong ones
Q:
alright haha.
Q:
im mad at him
BF: Hobo Phoenix is kind of a troll
BF: He’s basically regular Phoenix with his sarcasm filter turned off.
Plus some stuff I can’t talk about because spoilers
Q: ah alright
grape juice: I remember something about thing being said before when i read something on 2-4
Q: fine if it's gambling we can focus on that later RIGHT NOW WE ARE TALKING ABOUT MURDER
Q:
Payne: :something something stupid: and impress women
Me: nah he doesn't look straight to me
Q:
Payne: Better than a defense attorney who can't defend
Window Payne is the worst of everybody here so far
BF: Payne has always looked a bit like Riff Raff from Rocky Horror in this one. It’s the hair...
Q: I've noticed...
Gavin: Are you alright? You're sweating bullets.
Apollo: Bullets!? Where!?
yay! they let most of the tutorial be optional
Q: im in doubt so i will press everything
Phoenix that's a benie you don't hide your face with it that's not how it works
hehe Phoenix still easily beats winston
Q: wait how did phoenix become a hobo didn't he get half a million dollars at the end of the third game
wait no i don't ask questions like that that's spoilers
BF: hahahaha i wouldn't say he was rich at the end of game three (or not that I remember), but he was still in a good place.
and yes, how he got HERE is MAJOR spoilers.
Q: just gonna wait and see then
Gavin everything is poetic to you
BF: hahaaha Kris has quite the dramatic streak, it's true. lD And a love of flowery language
Q: I'll expect that to continue then
Q: :0 i think i found a contradiction. I am very proud of myself. now to see if it works
it worked!
hehe! Apollo yelling objection throught he text box
Payne's hair swoosh
Q: Wright your phone is still outdated af
BF: Phoenix? Upgrade his phone? heaven forbid!
Q: who is this witness
BF: a lady with a mid 00's meme for a name
Q:
oh boy
Q:
Judge: Where is the witness??
Payne: I surmise that she has been frightened by the defense's demonic looking horns
HAH
Olga Orly
hmm
HEY LOOK A PHOTO FROM THE SCENE OF THE MUDER >:(
Q:
Ogla: That night, customer asked me to deal cards for a game
is that a typo or am i missing something
nah this seems to be a recurring theme so i guess not
BF: she's supposed to be speaking with a very stereotypical broken English type Russian Accent hahah
Q: ohhh
if this photo is true why is the grape juice on the other side of the table
BF: http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/o-rly Also, because this meme is old
Hmmmmmm
Q: trying to go to the link
Q: one moment
Q: i need to go eat give me a second
BF: okaaaay
Q: back
i ended up accidentally pulling out the SD card and has to play back to where i was
Apollo: It's already April. How could it be cold?
Well 1st off they were in a basement and 2nd off what state are you in
oh ya the meme link
OH I get it now haha.
Q: O RLY your testimony is WRONG i have the autopsy report!
Apollo: :When objecting: Oh really?
when did this game come out
Q: hehe Apollo looks very happy with himselfQ: if he played the whole time with a hand on a locket, then how come it isn't on him when he diedQ: dammit phoenix
wtf
what is the photo
wtf why cant i see it
dammit
Q: I highly doubt this once again because the grape juice is on the wrong side of the table if phoenix was loosing
Q:
Apollo: Methinks the judge watches too many movies
i wouldn't be surprised
Q: my computer flashed the blue screen of death for some reason... thank god i already finished scrolling all of the way up there yesterday
Q: Otherwise: Gavin what the hell do you want me to do what is wrong with it
photo do you know???
yes it does :D
Q: test
dammit
Q: i was sending a bunch of messages but they apparently didn't go through. I'm getting them now
Gavin: It's almost as if you figured it out by yourself
i'm still mad at you for no reason at all don't say stuff like that
SEE PHOENIX WAS WINNING. MORONS.
Q: Winston's hair is hilarious
that is an absolutely awful pun
Q: but somebody already said there couldn't have been a cheat because of the cards
Q: who cares if i have any idea how poker works or now
*not
Q: ...not here aren't 5 aces...
*NO THERE
Q: I'll take the victim's hand.
I'm pretty sure it's normal fro there to be 4 red cards and 1 blue... right?
nah
OLGA WHAT THE HECK
Q: :0 THE INTENSE BATTLE MUSIC PLAYING
sounds like a remix of the first.
oh no! She fell over! Now she won't be able to catch her plates!
so BACK TO GAME
Also i have decided that i am 96% certain that this daughter person is Pearl because i really dont think he had a kid in those 7 years
I want 50 cents if i am right
PHOENIX WHAT IS IT YOU AREN'T GUILTY
Q:
Payne: Raising objections when you are about to get off the hook?!?
well I mean... for somebody like Phoenix i guess it makes sense. He wants the whole truth discovered.
whatever im probably being dumb
Q: this is interesting
I've also decided i forgive phoenix for being mean and stupid
quonit-aceattorney
uhuh
i don't... crap i need to figure out when the cards were swapped now or im dead
05/18/2018
quonit-aceattorney
back
quonit-aceattorney
Window Payne is so confused haha
quonit-aceattorney
Gavin is doing the anime glasses thing
FINALLY I CAN SEE THE PICTURE
THANK YOU
DAMMIT
eh wahtever
quonit-aceattorney
phoenix im still mad at you give me a reason to forgive you for exlisting
Q: savepoint. That music was awful weird.Q: o rly is a new person nowQ: how dare you even though i haven't seen him in 7 years I will still protect phoenix from evil people
I'm still bad at him but i would give him cookies
Q: aw she called Phoenix' hat cute
Q: wait there was something inverted
what
ya no you're a lying jerk
THIS IS TERRIFYING
Q: what the fuck
Q: no, Phoenix called the cops!
Q: uhhh well im not sure who is colorblind here
but it's not phoenix or the o rly girl so... i have no idea???
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME
Q: and it's not somebody who was already there because it was a fourth person???
frick
uhhh
Q: when playing this all i feel like im doing is embarrassing myself. What do you want me to dooooo
Q: holy shit my 2nd guess was right
Q: dammit Gavin why
see i knew i had a grudge agaist you for no reason, now i have a reason
Payne is not used to turnabout like this
Q: hmmmm ya why not. I am the defense attorney i make the rules
OF COURSE I WOULD BETRAY YOU. YOU'RE MEAN I KNOW IT!@
Q: NO GAVIN I LIKE PHOENIX MORE THAN YOU
Apollo: Why can't I have a normal trial!?
Because you are officially antiquated with Phoenix now: You will never have a normal trial. You have been cursed.
Q: SO NOW both the card and the fingerprints makes sense! Thank Wright for telling me this in the MIDDLE OF THE TRIAL
Q: phoenix the bottle is empty
Q:
Mr.Gavin: Perhaps a fifth person came and took it out? Oh, and a sixth person could've helped!
shut up you were there
Q: I've been stuck for like 20 minuets now
Q: stupid game
whyyy
i found a contradiction like 30 minutes ago and it did NOTHING ANYWHERE
Q: NOTHING ELSE IS DOING ANYTHING EITHER
I HAVE AN EVIL GUY SITTING NEXT TO ME AND SOME DUDE I USED TO KNOW NOT GIVING ME STRAIGHT ANSWERS
Q: All of the characters in this game suck and I sound stupid when i try to predict things
Q: like how am i supposed to know anything im just making stupid claims when i have absolutely nothing
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT'S STUPID
Q: LATER IT JUST LOOKS STUPID BUT IT REALLY ISN'T WITH THE KNOWLEDGE I HAD RIGHT
Q: gah everybody from this game still sucks
IT'S BEEN FORTY MENUTES
BF: I think when you are that stuck, you are officially allowed to take a peak at a guide
Q: THANKS
bleh i hate using them but it has been NEARLY AN HOR
HOUR
BF: This one is weirdly tricky for a Tutorial case!
Q: at first I was like "Well it's a tutorial case but all of them get harder with each game" and then i remembered this came out years later and is kinda like a rebootish thing and is kinda for new players and it's dumb how hard this is
Q: looked at the guide for a second for the very specific thing: I feel stupid >:(
Q: HOW DID I MISS THAT >:(
STUPID HAT
before you sent a message I was writing something about why i decided i hate evreybody from this game
BF: Hahahaha it’s okay. I can’t count the number of times these games have made me feel that way
Q: ...stupid...stupid game making me look stupid... stupid...
BF just UGHHH THIS IS SO EASY NOW THAT I KNOW
Calm down, breath
Q: I LOOKED OVER ALL OF THE PHOTOS ALREADY HOW DID I MISS IT
okay one moment
BF: It’s not always easy to work out what kind of logic the game wants you to follow
BF: It’s got nothing to do with how smart you are
In that regard, it’s like an older style adventure game
Q: alright...
I forgave him and only him he's the only one who did nothing wrong
Gavin you are the worst of everybody in this room and saying that makes me feel better
now stop being mean to phoenix even if he is lying
Q: yesss phoenix is being useful. Tell me about this conversation
Q: NOW I REMEMBER WHY THAT GAVIN GUY LOOKS SLIGHTLY FAMILIAR
(Edit: In reference to this comic)
Q: At least i think that was him in that comic... i dunno I think that is where i remember him slightly from
oh no i saw a stupid comic how could i get so many spoilers oh nooooo
Q: hi top hat girl! I forgive your existence!
is the card this girl gave me a 5 of hearts
nope it's an ace with blood on it! Thank you girl! Also i forgive your existence because I'm pretty sure i remember you were adopted
I’Q: I'm revealing all of the spoilers I know at first so that i don't feel like m hiding them later
like for example: Godot having poor vision. I felt guilty hiding it. so i'm not going to hide probably spoilers I know with this game
BF: Hahaha that was him!
Q: yaaaay
Q: I think the first thing that made me not like him though when u started playing is that he was smiling and didn't seem to change his expression... like everybody else did and he was just kinda sitting there being the same and giving me tips and i have never liked that from this game... for some reason...
Q: Gavin that testimony is full of crap
BF: Kristoph and his ^_^ haha
Q: STOP SMILING AND BEING QUIETISH AND GIVING APOLLO TIPS YOU FREAK ME OUT IT'S LIKE I HIT YOU WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER AND YOU FALL DOWN AND THEN YOU GET UP AND SMILE AND PUSH YOUR GLASSES UP AND SAY SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS SMART BUT IS FULL OF LIES
I have trust issues in this game apparently
BF: I will say this; Kris, for all that he’s meant to be this totally cool under pressure Attorney (aka Coolest Defense in the West...pffft...thanks for that, game...) he is remarkably bad about self incriminating
For NO GOOD REASON
:BF I mean, you have to catch him out SOMEHOW but the information that he just VOLUNTEERS
Q: ack. Gavin whyyyy
Q: phoenix is being great. I'm close to forgiving him.
Q: You can argue that this trial is more Kristoph v Phoenix than anything else
Q: Apollo is a newb and this is extremely hard for a tutorial. Why not let him take over some of it?
BF: Lol true
Poor Apollo haha
Q: SORRY YOU COULDN'T HAVE IT EASY BUT YOU'VE BEEN CURSED WITH MAIN CHARACTER OF THE FOURTH ACE ATTORNEY GAME.
Q: I'm not used to this game letting me do this much... like swivel a chair around.
it's like... animated.... I am not used to that
Q: It's a cupboard not a wall you can stand in them if you wanted to
or wasn't there! Smart boy :D
Q: SO THE WINDOW WOULD BE COVERED UP
Q: SECRET PASSAGE of course
Q: Mr Gavin stop it i just pretty much won and you wanna be like "oh nah im super cool not like this effects me in any way because I totally have been hiding something too"
"that would TOTALLY shatter your theory!"
Q:
Phoenix: Don't let him trick you into thinking his explanation is the only legitimate one
AS I SAID THEIR ARE OTHER TOTALLY SENSIBLE THEORIES
Q: Kris (because i stopped calling him my his last name): So this is the legendary attorney's famed tactic of misdirection...
see this is what people say when i am winning
Q:
Phoenix: Say apollo, maybe you should examine the bottle
maybe you'll find a very specific card in there
Q: ANGRY GAVIN USES LEVITATION
Q: window payne nobody cares just accept it and move on
Q:
Judge: Seven years and you still haven't lost your touch
that's nice can he have his badge back?
Phoenix: The second is a man who would tolerate no injectice
so you decided on a guy with justice for a last name
CONFETTI FOR PHOENIX WOOO
BF: hhahaaha
at the risk of spoiling something, I'd like you to know that you haven't seen Kristoph's FULL breakdown.
Yet. >:D
Q:
Phoenix: How about you come and work for me
YESSSS BACK IN WRIGHT AND CO LAW OFFICES WHERE I BELONG
---
I figured!
BF: and yeah, it is...useful to think of him by his first name.
You'll see why in a bit.
Q: Oh ya he has a family... i think i remember something about a brother
that's spoilers I won't ask
BF: :3
Q: APOLLO I KNOW YOU ARE MAD BUT DON'T PUNCH PHOENIX HE'S BEEN ASSAULTED ENOUGH ALREADY
Phoenix: oh and about your uppercut... Try yelling, "Take that!" next time. I find it packs a little more punch
^^^ 100% with phoenix on this one
Q: well that was an awful long beginning. Apollo can we investigate more and talk to people this time?
0 notes
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