#sucks to be sure cause wanda resonates with me

[bardicious]

I do apologize to everyone who followed me for Loki content. I unfortunately don't believe Ill be drawing anymore for content for him. The return of the show (and everyone posting about it) kinda reminded me of that. I'll be taking out the artworks from my shops as well, however, if you want to buy one, you need only request it and Ill put it back up for a short window of time.

Thank you, everyone. ❤️

That said, I'll probably still be making art for norse loki.

[the-desolated-quill]

WandaVision: ‘Subverting’ Good Television - Quill’s Scribbles

(Spoilers for the first five episodes)

Hey everyone! Well... it’s been a while, hasn’t it? The last time I wrote a proper review or Scribble, people still thought the COVID crisis would be over within a month. The poor saps. But I thought that as a special way to mark this year’s Valentines Day, we could take a closer look at the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s shittiest power couple in their new Disney+ show WandaVision.

The first of many MCU spin-off shows that nobody asked for, broadcast exclusively on Disney’s totally unnecessary streaming platform, WandaVision is about everybody’s favourite whitewashed Nazi experiment and her red sexbot boyfriend as they try to fit into a suburban sitcom neighbourhood without arousing suspicion.

Yes, you read that correctly. The MCU has a sitcom now. My life is now complete.

Sarcasm aside, I was legitimately curious about WandaVision because of its unusual setting. And considering one of my most common criticisms of the MCU is its total lack of creativity, anything that’s even a little bit subversive is bound to attract my attention. Of course ‘subversive’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good.’ I could hand you a canvas smeared with my own shit and call it subversive. That doesn’t necessarily make it good art. And that’s exactly what WandaVision is. A canvas smeared with shit.

So lets split this critical analysis/review/angry bitter rant into two distinct chapters. The first focusing on the plot and setting, and the second focusing on the characters. Okay? Okay.

Chapter 1: Bewitched

Critics seem to be utterly enamoured with the whole sitcom gimmick, and it is a gimmick. As far as I can tell from the episodes I’ve seen, the sitcom setting serves no real purpose whatsoever other than to make the show ‘quirky.’ Which I wouldn’t mind, believe it or not, if the show was actually funny. There’s just one problem. It’s not.

Now in some ways describing why a sitcom doesn’t work is often futile because comedy is largely subjective. What I find funny, you won’t necessarily find funny and vice versa. With WandaVision, however, I won’t have that problem. I can demonstrate to you precisely why WandaVision, objectively, isn’t funny. And it all comes down to one simple thing. The stakes. Or rather the complete and total absence of stakes.

The show makes it very clear from the beginning that none of what we’re seeing is real. The cheesy theme song, the era appropriate special effects (mostly. It’s actually very inconsistent), the joke commercials, and, in the case of the first two episodes, which are in black and white, the appearance of red lights and objects in Scarlet Witch’s general vicinity. (Gee, what a mystery this is).

Basically Wanda has brought Vision back from the dead and created this sitcom world for them to inhabit. I’ll explain the stupidity of this in Chapter 2. The point is none of this is real, and that has a negative effect on the comedy because the very nature of comedy is suffering. Take the plot of the first episode. Wanda and Vision have to prepare a dinner to impress Vision’s boss. If they fail, Vision could lose his job and the couple could be exposed as superheroes. If this were a normal sitcom, it would work. The stakes are clear and it would be satisfying to see the two struggle and overcome the odds. But here, we know it’s not real. If it’s not real, it means there’s no stakes. If there’s no stakes, it means there’s no suffering. If there’s no suffering, there’s no comedy.

It would be one thing if the unfunny sitcom stuff lasted for like the first ten minutes or so before making way for the actual plot, but it doesn’t. Oh no. It doesn’t even last for the first episode. Out of the five episodes I’ve watched, four of them are almost entirely about these unfunny, objectively flawed sitcom homages, each set in a different time period. The fifties, the sixties, and so on. And what’s worse is that nothing that happens in them is plot-relevant. That gets relegated to the last five minutes of an episode. So you’re forced to sit through twenty five minutes of boring slapstick and puns in order to catch even a whiff of actual story. Which begs the question... who is this for exactly? It can’t be entertaining to Marvel fans, who have to slog through all this pointless shit so they can figure out what the fuck is going on. Comedy fans may get a kick out of the sitcom pastiche at first, but after four episodes, surely the joke would wear thin. So why is it in here? Clearly someone in the writer’s room absolutely fell in love with the idea of doing a Marvel sitcom, but nobody put in any time or effort to figure out how it would work in context.

I cannot stress enough how bad the plotting of this series is. As I said, the vast majority of a thirty minute episode is about shitty sitcom plots that aren’t funny and don’t have any impact on the story, only to then tease you with a crumb of actual plot in order to keep you coming back for the next instalment. Admittedly it’s an effective strategy. I was more than ready to quit after Episode 2 until that beekeeper showed up out of the sewer (don’t ask. It’s not important). WandaVision essentially follows the Steven Moffat school of bad writing. String your audience along with the promise that things might get more interesting later on and that all the bullshit that came before will retroactively make sense by the end. Except, as demonstrated with BBC’s Sherlock, that doesn’t work. And even if it did, it wouldn’t justify wasting the audience’s fucking time. And that’s what the majority of WandaVision is. A waste of time.

The only episode that doesn’t follow the sitcom format is the fourth episode. Instead it basically exists to explain all the shit that happened before. The shit that the audience, frankly, are smart enough to figure out for themselves. Wanda created the sitcom world as a way of coping with the loss of Vision, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, we got it. Thanks. It doesn’t advance the plot or anything. It’s just a massive info-dump. But by far the lowest point was when Darcy (by far the most annoying character in the first Thor film and is just as obnoxious here) was sat in front of the TV, watching the sitcom and asking the same questions we were. Not even attempting to look for answers. Just reiterating what the audience is thinking. Like this is an episode of fucking Gogglebox.

In the end it becomes apparent why the series is structured the way that it is. It’s to hoodwink people into subscribing to Disney’s stupid streaming service. If you think about it, there was no reason for WandaVision to be a TV series other than to lure gullible fans in with a piece-meal story buried in a mountain of crap. This isn’t a TV show. It’s what is cynically known in the world of big business executives as ‘content.’ They’re not interested in entertaining the audience. Instead they crave ‘engagement’, which isn’t the same thing. Watching WandaVision is like staring into the void, waiting for something to happen, while Disney charge you for the privilege.

Chapter 2: I Love Lucy

So the plot sucks balls. What about the characters? Surely if Wanda and Vision are likeable at least, it’ll give us something to cling onto.

Well as I was watching the first episode, it suddenly hit me that I couldn’t remember anything that happened to them in previous films. I knew Vision died, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you significant plot details or their personalities or anything. Not a great start.

See, up until now, Vision and Scarlet Witch have been little more than background characters. So already there’s an uphill struggle to get us invested in their relationship, especially considering we haven’t actually seen that relationship develop. In Avengers: Age Of Ultron, Scarlet Witch is killing people because she’s pissed off about Tony Stark killing people (you work that one out) until all of a sudden she stops and joins the good guys because the script said so. Vision meanwhile is introduced as a convenient deus ex machina to beat Ultron and gets no real personality other than he’s a robot. Captain America: Civil War comes the closest to giving Wanda a story and personality of her own as it’s her actions that cause the Sokovia Accords to come into effect, but she never gets any real growth or payoff as the film is heavily focused on Cap and Iron Man’s penis measuring contest. And as for Vision, all he does in the film is accidentally cripple War Machine. No real character or arc there as such. And then we have Avengers: Infinity War, where Wanda and Vision are now sporadically in love and on the run until that pesky Josh Brolin, looking like a CGI cross between Joss Whedon and a grumpy grape, comes along and rips out Vision’s Infinity Stone to power up his golden glove of doom, and the film treats this like a tragic moment, except... it isn’t. Because we haven’t really had the time to properly get to know these characters and see their romance blossom. So instead it just comes off as hollow and forced.

WandaVision has the exact same problem. Apparently Wanda was so distraught about Vision’s death that she broke into a SWORD base, stole his corpse, brought it back from the dead... somehow, and then enslaved an entire town of people to create an idyllic lifestyle for her and her hubby while broadcasting it as a sitcom to the outside world... for some reason. Putting aside the dubious morality of it all, it’s impossible to really sympathise with Wanda or her supposed grief because we’ve barely spent any time with her. Had the Marvel movies taken the time to properly explore the characters and show us their relationship grow and develop, this might have had more emotional resonance. But no, it just happens. In one film they barely speak to each other and in the next they’re a couple. No effort to explore how they feel about each other or any of the problems that may arise trying to date a robot. It just happens and we’re just supposed to care. Well I’m sorry, but I don’t care. You’re going to have to try a little bit harder than that I’m afraid. What’s worse is that, thanks to the whole fake sitcom thing, it’s impossible to really become invested in Wanda and her plight because the show has to constantly keep us at arms length at all times in order to keep up the pretence that this bullshit is somehow mysterious.

Looking through the WandaVision tag, it amuses me how many people say that she’s acting out of character. And yeah, her actions are a bit of a head scratcher. Why would an Eastern European’s ideal life be an American sitcom? Why a sitcom? Why kidnap an entire town? Why keep changing the decade? None of it makes sense, but you’re wrong for thinking that Wanda is behaving out of character for the simple reason that Wanda has never actually had a character. In fact, ironically, Wanda mind controlling an entire town and forcing them to do her bidding is probably the one consistent thing about her as she did this in Age Of Ultron. In interviews, Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany described how they used actors like Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick Van Dyke as influences, which is really funny because they’re straight up admitting they don’t have characters and even now they’re still not playing the characters, instead emulating the work of far better actors.

As I was watching the show, it became abundantly clear that not only do Marvel not have the faintest idea what they wanted to do with these characters, but they also straight up don’t give a shit about these characters. Wanda in particular has had a rough time under the tyrannical regime of the House of Mouse. First they cast Elizabeth Olsen, a white woman, to play a Romani character, then systematically erasing her Jewish roots, even going so far as to put a cross in her bedroom in Civil War, and now the character is being butchered even more by forcing her into an American sitcom housewife role that she apparently willingly chose for herself, which is laughable. I mean say what you like about Magneto in the X-Men films, at least they actually depicted his Jewish culture. At least they recognised his Jewish background was important (though not important enough to cast a Jewish actor apparently). Wanda’s steady cultural erasure over the years is incredibly insidious and judging by Olsen’s comments in interviews, where she called Wanda’s comic book outfit a quote ‘gypsy thing’ unquote, it seems nobody has an ounce of fucking respect for the character or the culture she’s supposed to be representing. (and to all those kissing her arse saying it was a slip of the tongue, she has been repeatedly called out for using the slur in the past, so at this point I’d describe her behaviour as wilful ignorance)

If you want further proof of how much Marvel doesn’t seem to care about Wanda, look no further than her brother Pietro, aka Quicksilver. At the end of Episode 5, Wanda brings Pietro back from the dead, except it’s not Pietro. It’s Peter Maximoff, the Quicksilver from the X-Men films played by Peter Evans, who coincidentally is not Jewish or Romani either. So Quicksilver has the dubious honour of not only being whitewashed three times, but also twice within the same franchise. But should we really be surprised at this point? It’s Marvel after all. The same company that whitewashed the Ancient One in Doctor Yellowface and claimed it wasn’t racist because Tilda Swinton is ‘Celtic’. But now I’m going off topic. My point is that this isn’t a simple case of recasting an actor like Mark Ruffalo replacing Edward Norton as the Hulk. WandaVision actually acknowledges the recast in-universe, which makes no sense. Why would Wanda bring back her brother, only to make him look like a different person? We the audience may be familiar with this version of Quicksilver, but she isn’t. That would be like me bringing my Grandad back to life and making him look like Ian McKellen. He’d be perfectly charming, I’m sure, but he wouldn’t be my Grandad. 

If Marvel really cared about the characters or narrative consistency, they would have brought Aaron Taylor Johnson back. Instead, now they have absorbed 20th Century Fox into the hellish Disney abyss, they use X-Men’s Quicksilver as a means to keep viewers from switching off and so that people will write stupid articles and think pieces about whether the rest of the X-Men will show up in the MCU. It’s like dangling your keys in front of a toddler’s face to distract them from the rotting corpse of a raccoon lying face down in the corner of the room.

And it’s here where I decided to stop watching the show because fuck Disney.

Epilogue: One Foot In The Grave

You know, I am sick and tired of the so called ‘professional’ critics bending over backwards to praise these god awful films and shows when it’s so clear to anyone with a functioning brain cell how bad they truly are. WandaVision is without a doubt one of the most cynically produced and poorly structured TV shows I’ve ever seen. Its riffs on classic sitcoms are pointless and self-indulgent, the writing is terrible, the characters are unlikable and unsympathetic, and it’s entirely emblematic of what the entire MCU has become of late. And it’s only going to get worse as Disney drowns us with more ‘content’ to keep the plebs ‘engaged’. In short; pathetic.

[waywardodysseys]

Gone So Long - Oneshot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Warnings: cussing, smut, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), roughness

~   ~   ~

You’re sitting in the lab with Rhodey while he’s having a hologram conference with Secretary of State Ross. You cross your arms as you swivel in your chair, listening to them converse about the Accords. You hear a door open and stop dead. Your eyes take in a determined Nat and a rugged looking Steve walking confidently towards Rhodey and the hologram secretary. You notice Wanda, Vision, and Sam walking behind them.

Your throat swells and your heart quickens as you stand. You haven’t seen the five of them in over two years. They’re a sight to behold with your tired eyes.

You watch as Steve confronts the secretary, his voice clipped and bitter. Ross eyes the nomad Avenger and gives Rhodey an order to apprehend the five of them since they’ve been on the run and did not partake in signing of the Sokovia Accords.

“All over it,” Rhodey remarks before making the secretary disappear.

You watch as Steve, Nat, and Rhodey greet one another. Rhodey knows arresting them isn’t a high priority. Nat smiles widely at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Y/N!” Nat embraces you tightly then pulls back and looks at you. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you smile weakly in return.

Bruce takes this opportunity to make himself known. He waves at Nat.

“Hi Bruce,” Nat looks at him with astonishment.

You know they haven’t seen each other in years either. You look between the two as your eyes travel over to Steve. You take in the longer blond hair, the beard on his face. Your body resonates with heat as you recall the night before he left the compound to fight Tony regarding Bucky. You knew Steve was not going to sign the Accords because Bucky mattered most to him, not you. But the man spent the night loving you intimately. He took his time with you and you did the same with him.

You had gradually come to terms with Steve leaving you for Bucky, but you knew the two friends always had one another no matter what. Therefore, you forgave Steve and let go of the hate filled resentment you had towards him when he left you behind.

Or had you?

Rhodey breaks the awkward silence between everyone, “how about you guys get some rest before we discuss matters?”

“Stark’s gone Rhodey,” Steve declares.

“I know,” Rhodey asserts, “but we all need clear minds to discuss everything. Meet back in an hour?”

Steve looks at everyone, his eyes land on you. “Fine.”

The group disperses to other areas of the floor which leaves you alone with Steve.

You turn on your heel to leave but Steve takes two wide steps and grabs your arm, forcing you to turn and face him.

“I have nothing to say to you,” you ground out as you look deep into his blue eyes.

Steve sighs and nearly shouts, “I had to go!”

“I know. You wanted to save Bucky.”

“You know how much Bucky means to me,” Steve grounds out.

“I do! And apparently, I didn’t mean as much,” you hiss.

“You were better off not getting involved! I couldn’t risk you being on the run—”

“Like you’ve been?” You interrupt.

Steve sighs heavily, “those fucking Accords put the government in charge of the Avengers. They dictate every move! You know I didn’t want that!”

You did. Steve had been adamant about not wanting to sign them. He had faith in his own judgement and didn’t need someone else controlling his life. In a way, Steve felt like if he had signed the Accords, he’d be brainwashed into doing questionable and controversial deeds like Bucky had been doing prior to Steve saving him.

And you had acquiesced in his decision. Part of you wondered for days if you should have fought harder to go with him because if you had you wouldn’t be looking at Steve like a stranger.

“I was protecting you,” Steve utters after minutes of silence.

“You were protecting yourself!” You nearly shout at him. You’re filled with anger and pain, yet you knew he’d pick the best friend over the lover. Maybe you hadn’t forgiven him.

You turn on your heel and walk away from him.

Steve watches you retreat then sees everyone’s eyes on him. He clenches his fists as he moves his feet towards the hallway you walked down. He knows everyone in the compound is the only hope the world has, and he doesn’t need his return to keep you further away from him.

Steve had kept you at a distance after Sokovia and during the battle with Tony because he didn’t want to risk losing both you and Bucky. He thought it best to protect you by leaving you behind because you’d be more value to Tony and Rhodey. You’d be able to help them protect the world while he was protecting Bucky and keeping watch over Wanda and Vision.

Yet when he saw Wanda and Vision together, he missed you desperately and wanted you with him. Steve had to keep his distance because once Nat found out he wanted to see you, she would tell him not to try anything because if someone saw him, especially Tony, he would be reprimanded and turned into the authorities because of the Accords.

Steve catches up to you outside of your living quarters. He reaches for your arm, spins you around and captures your mouth with his. He knows he must make up for lost time. He needs to atone for leaving you behind.

You can’t help but give into the kiss. You’ve missed him, missed all of him – his mouth, his body, his hands, his cock.

After the door swooshes open, Steve keeps his mouth glued to yours and walks you backwards into your room. When your legs hit the mattress Steve pulls faintly away and pushes you into the mattress and holds you by your wrists and slowly grinds into you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His grinds against your core makes your body overheat with ache for him.

“Steve,” you pant lustfully.

Steve pants on your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you Y/N,” he pauses, “I’ve been wanting to feel your legs wrapped around me tightly while I’m inside of you.”

You moan lowly at his words. You need him.

Steve begins kissing your neck and whispering your name.

“Fuck,” you hiss out while trying to break free, “I’ve missed you too. And I fucking need you. Please!”

Steve scrapes his beard along your skin as he removes one hand from your wrists and palms your core. He’s able to feel the heat vibrating from it. He inwardly moans and his cock hardens.

“You’re wet,” Steve pants.

You keep your mouth shut because you know your response of obviously would be snarky. All you wanted, needed was the man to give you multiple orgasms. You also needed to feel his tongue against your sensitive area, along with feeling his thick hard cock buried deep inside of your pussy.

“Did you get off to me?” Steve asks as he releases your other wrist.

His fingers are fumbling at undoing your pants. He pushes them down your legs, along with your underwear, and pulls them off.

“Yes,” you moan in response as you watch Steve dip his head down between your legs.

Steve grazes his beard along an inner thigh as he opens your slick folds. His blue eyes look into your eyes as he licks up your folds then flicks his tongue against your clit.

You moan loudly as clutch the bedding. Your body humming as Steve begins to circle your clit and suck on it gently.

You had gotten off to the memory of his tongue against your clit, his cock inside of you, his hands and mouth traveling over your body. Nothing beat the real thing, and here he was giving you the real pleasure you deserved after being apart.

Your orgasm building inside of you as you watch Steve devour you.

“Oh—fu—mmm,” your panting as you feel the pleasure within you igniting as your toes curl, “Steve!”

Steve feels your body shudder under his tongue. His cock hardening more from your cries of ecstasy and the thrill of hearing his name escape from your mouth as he gives you what you’ve desperately needed from him.

He lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach, making sure he scrapes your flesh with his beard. He feels your fingers moving through his hair as he leaves love bites along your skin. He loved marking you as he gave you orgasm after orgasm. Nothing’s changed and he’ll continue to mark you as his because you are the woman he needs to survive, the woman he needs to push through what awaits everyone in the coming days.

You whimper as Steve stands and begins to remove his stealth suit. You lick your lips as his flesh becomes visible to your eyes. His thick cock is hard and at attention. You want to wrap your mouth around it but you haven’t touched his flesh and you need it under your fingertips first.

You sit up and move your hands up his stomach and chest. You gradually stand and place kisses over his pectoral muscles. You feel Steve’s hands travel over your shoulders and down your back. His touch is feather light and slow. You nip at the base of his neck then pull his mouth down to yours.

Your lips are soft against his as your fingers play with the ends of hair. Your mouth becomes hungry as you pull Steve deeper into the kiss. You pull back from him and smile as you trace his mouth with a finger.

“On the bed,” you instruct the naked super soldier.

Steve grins as he does what he is told. You turn and look at him as he looks up at you and moves his hands over your breasts and stomach.

You moan as his fingers roam your naked skin, soaking in the gratification of what pleasures await you.

“Lie back Steve,” you order.

Steve scoots back on the mattress and lies back. He feels it dip down as you kneel beside his body. He halfway sits up and watches as you engulf his cock with your mouth. He inhales a sharp breath as your tongue moves along the underside of his cock. He feels you moan against it which sends his body into overdrive causing heat to flood his body and making his orgasm rise quickly inside of him.

“Y/N,” Steve moans deeply as he moves his hands through your hair.

You moan against his cock as you move your mouth up and down, coating his cock in your saliva.

Steve’s fingers apply pressure against your scalp. “Ride me! I need to be in you.”

You move your head up and down slowly. You swirl your tongue around the tip before you release his cock.

You place a hand on Steve’s cock as you straddle him. You rise your body up, move his cock between your folds, and slowly sink onto him.

You moan lowly as you take him fully in. Your hands are splayed on Steve’s chest as you begin to roll your hips and arch your back. Your fingers dig into his skin at feeling him inside of your slick canal after a prolonged duration apart.

The rolling of your hips become merciless as pleasure envelops you. Your orgasm rising steadily as you begin to feel Steve thrusting up into your depths, trying to meet the rolling of your hips.

Steve places his hands on your hips, grasping them tightly. He begins to lean forward but you stop him.

“No!” You half shout, half hiss as you push him down.

You need him to know with you on top, you are in control. You want to be the one to enjoy the pleasure his cock gives you in this position. You need to take your time as you feel your orgasm rising inside of you because you know once your body gives in to him, Steve will take control and make sure he gets off inside of you while you writhe under him.

“Fuck,” you hiss as your orgasm nears the edge.

You tilt your head back and bite your bottom lip. Your back arches as your fingers dig into Steve. The rolling your hips becoming rapid as your orgasm begins to release itself inside of you.

“Steve,” you moan loudly, “Steve!”

Your voice cracks in a half pant, half cry as your orgasm rolls over you. Your body quivers atop Steve’s as your orgasm consumes you.

Steve feels your hold on him loosen as he feels your pussy clenching his cock. He leans forwards and wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. He nips at your neck as he feels your shaky fingers move across his shoulders.

He pulls you down with him then halfway down he flips you onto your back. Steve smirks as he looks down at your naked body under him. His hard cock remains inside of your wet depths.

Steve removes his cock then plunges into your depths with one swift thrust, making you moan loudly and arch your back. He begins pounding you roughly as his hands lock onto your arms and keeps them entrapped on the bed.

“Fuck,” Steve moans as he feels your tightness around him. He feels your warmth and wetness too. He’s always preferred this position because of the intimacy it gave the two of you. Now he’s enjoying this position because he’s gained control over you.

Your body’s still on a high from the two orgasms he’s already given you. You keep tightening your slick walls around him when he plunges into you repeatedly, keep trying to roll your hips up to meet his forceful thrusts.

Steve moans loudly and deeply as he fucks you. Frustration and deprivation had been consuming him for two years. He’s finally able to release them as he finds solace between your legs and in your arms.

You wrap your legs around Steve tightly as he leans down and captures your mouth with his. Your bodies entwined, moving together as one. The fervent carnal urge inside you both reaching its heightened delight as you and Steve finally are moving against one another – flesh against flesh.

“Y/N,” Steve pants as his orgasm crests inside of him.

“Steve,” you half moan, half whisper as you let yourself get taken over the edge again.

Steve releases your arms and you immediately wrap them around him. Your fingers dig into his back as he thrusts roughly into you as he empties himself inside of you. He feels your pussy pulsating around his cock as your orgasm makes your body tremble.

Steve’s breathless as he places his head in the crook of your neck. The smell of sex fills his nostrils as he listens to your heart thumping inside of your chest. He runs a hand over your collarbone as he nips at your skin. His teeth leaving a fainted red mark on your skin.

You moan lowly as you run a hand over his hot skin. Your body sedated from the fucking you just received.

Steve wishes there wasn’t an emergency, wish the world didn’t need saving. He was ready to leave with you and never look back.

He wasn’t going to leave you behind the next time.

Tags: @random066​

[tmrmary]

rubbing salt deep in the cut

A two-week account of a witch in need of preservation

Saturday Night

“Like a kleenex - use once and throw away!”

It couldn’t have been any earlier than 2 AM. Few minutes after hooking up with a man she had picked up at the bar just down the street from her flat. Both of them laid in her bed. Yet, Danica paid no mind to his presence. She stared at the ceiling and let her mind carelessly wander to the events from earlier tonight. The shite, sorry game of Quidditch. The lush, smug meeting with the towering Broadmoor. How he had made her roar with laughter and pout with propriety all within the same conversation. These thoughts sent a shock through Danica’s chest, and in reaction, she pushed the man from out her bed, followed by a loud thump on the floor, a frail shriek from his mouth and on her command, she snapped at him. “Get out.”

Tuesday Afternoon

“Unannounced and uninvited. The nerve!”

Never in her imagination would Danica have foreseen herself at Wanda’s pristine, marble decorated home on her own accord. Here she was, willingly listening to her older sister bitch and moan on how she hadn’t previously scheduled a time to come by, and now, Wanda was left with the plate settings all uneven at the lunch table. Not to mention how Danica was teaching her nephew Clement how to conjure up licorice wands from the cabinet, when Wanda had specifically insisted on no funny business, as she had implemented a new strict only-one-candy-per-week kinda diet. 

So here Danica was, suffering through the repercussions, after she had attempted to do something - for the first time in her life - that was actually kinda selfless. However, it wasn’t long that Wanda’s sporadic fractions of lectures drove D prematurely out the door. Why did she even come by Wanda’s place in the first place? Last she remembered she sensed a pain in her chest and then found herself making small talk with the random store clerk at Quality Quidditch Supplies. What was the pit feeling she had at the bottom of her gut that just made her feel so... empty?

Saturday Night

“Screw you. I want you and your self absorbent drama out of my life, sister dear. Screw you!”

This time was much earlier than 2 AM. In fact, Danica was home much sooner than she had anticipated. The evening’s plans? A Quidditch game that’d regain the pride it lost last week and a night out in the town to cause mayhem in true twin fashion. Regardless, those plans had come to a large halt at what grew from a small, underlying tiff of tension between Danica and her sister Sloane, to a full on fallout with the person D most cared about in her life. 

As she apparated into the center of her living room, Danica tripped into her unbalanced footing only catching her balance out of reflex. Immediate as the blink of an eye, she let out a loud shriek in pure rage, firing out from the lowest inch of her gut. With her wand still in hand, she noticed the photo of her and her twin sitting on the sofa’s end table. At its instant glance, Danica threw a jarring hex at the frame, letting it shatter all over the floor. With the remains of the frame, but the photo still intact, a forceful grunt escaped her mouth and another curse fired from her wand to rip the picture apart. 

At this moment, Danica began to spit curses rapid fire from her wand around the room, first starting as quick gips that were following the remains of the photo, growing to literal fire spells that she led drag on all over her furniture. In between, you could hear her grunts intensify with every spit of exertion, growing louder with every flick of her wand, until her living room was lit up in flames. 

With one last exasperated spell, counteracting her previous hexes and partially putting out some of her fires, a blood-curdling shout released from inside Danica, sucking the energy from her body enough for her to fall onto her knees. Danica leaned against her hands, staring at the ground as she collapsed into a child’s pose. Her back remained bent over as her empty hand went to touch her face, only to find that she had somehow managed to emit a few tears in the midst of all the chaos she had created. Knowledge of this discovery only made her blood boil once again. 

Sunday Morning

“Just calling to check up on you... call me back. Love, Mum.”

Call it ‘Mother’s Intuition’, but Danica could give zero fucks for it at the moment and deleted the voicemail off her muggle phone.

Monday Morning

“There’s a message from Scamp Young-Broadmoor. He insists you get back to him by the end of the day.”

Fuck that, she thought. Then told her intern to move onto the next item on the list, with all intention that she would be ignoring the man’s advances.

Thursday Night

“... Just come by my place Thursday night, if you really need someone to talk to ...”

Junior had written to Danica practically a week ago. If he really wanted to meddle into the situation, since Wanda clearly wouldn’t speak to her face to face, then she would have to take him up on his offer.

The conversation quickly escalated, as Junior tried his very best to rationalize with his sister.

“I’m not saying Wanda and Sloane don’t have any blame in this-”

“But it is. That is what you’re saying-”

“Can you just listen to what I’m trying to say for a second?”

“No! No. You’re really that fucking spineless, Junior, that instead of choosing a side, you’d rather ride your fiancée’s fucking dick out of it and stay intact.”

“Hey. Hey! Relax, D.”

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Danica slammed her fist knuckles first into Junior’s dinner table, unaware that the wrath inside her subconsciously powered a bit of wandless magic into its punch. Now the dinner table sported a gaping hole where her fist used to be.

Half a minute of silence passed by, as they’d both had been processing how their bickering had escalated, leaving even Danica a little bit shaken up.

She stated, "This conversation is fucking useless.”

Junior could feel the anxious tension tingling through every nerve of his body. He probably wanted to cry, unsure of what to do and slightly hurt by the whole thing, so he just sighed.

“D... I’m only trying to help.”

The truth was neither one of them knew how to help the other. Danica wasn’t ready to help or be helped and Junior... well, he had a lot going on on his own. Especially after Danica mentioned Amy in retaliation, his mind had fogged up and all he wanted to do was walk away. 

Luckily, Danica had rather beat him to the punch.

“I’m gonna go. Bye.” 

Danica disapparated out of her brother’s flat and found herself now just walking blocks away down from her own. She could have immediately ended up back home, but honestly, she could use the walk.

After all, she found she really did need just a bit of time to herself... to think... Maybe it was the couple shots she took before heading to Junior’s place or the leftover anger resonating from half an hour ago. But Danica finally accepted to herself that she was hurt. She was upset. She was angry - and it might not have been mature of her, but she damn well wanted her sister to feel the same.

Not sure how one and one finally clicked inside that demented mind of hers, but Danica had come to one conclusion that night. 

She thought, Fine... I’ll have the intern call him.

[omgrachwrites]

Ocean Avenue (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: When Darcie Baker - the daughter of a police officer - breaks her misfit friend’s heart at 16 she regrets it everyday even after she graduates though she knows she can’t go back and change what happened. Everything changes when over 10 years later she meets the gorgeous mechanic.

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad Bucky :( mentions of sex

Words: 2147

A/N: I’m sorry for the fact that it’s slightly late, and I’m going to be using Eoin Macken as a face claim for Liam bc let’s be real, he’s gorgeous, it’ll all be made clear when you guys read this part! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Six

Bucky was running some hair product – that cost him a bomb and made him smell like a flower if he used too much of it – through his still damp hair, making it more tousled than it naturally was already. He had a split second of surprise when he heard his front door open and close, and the sound of sneakers resonated through his apartment. It was Steve. Steve had a key to Bucky’s place so that he could go over there whenever he had had his night terrors or he was suffering from PTSD or he was just lonely.

In turn, Bucky had a key to Steve’s apartment, they were together so often that they might as well just live together. Even though they were best friends they were pretty different people so it’d probably be a danger to their friendship if they decided to move in together full time. Bucky was buttoning up his white shirt when Steve knocked on the door and strode into the bedroom.

“Looking good pal,” Steve chuckled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

Bucky beamed at him, his cheeks dimpling and the corners of his eyes creasing, “thanks man, so do you,” he paused for a second as the two of them descended into the kitchen, “are you sure that you don’t mind me tagging along?”

Steve shot him a look that said, ‘are you being serious?’ before he actually replied, “of course, it’s not an official date or anything; quite a few people are coming down. Thor and Loki are in town so they’re coming and a couple of Peggy’s friends from the hospital are coming too. I don’t think that Darcie is coming though, I think that she told Peggy that she had plans,” Steve assured him.

Bucky sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and proceeded to chew on it as he shrugged, “it really doesn’t matter to me whether she comes or not. I don’t care,” that was honestly the truth and it felt so good to not be lying about it.

Steve’s baby blue eyes widened in surprise and he was more than a little bit shocked, “since when? You’ve really changed your tune Buck, have you forgiven her or something?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgiven her and it’ll take me a long time to do so, if ever but,” he paused as he contemplated his following words, “I don’t want to hate her anymore, it’s far too exhausting and I can’t be bothered with it any longer. But anyway, technically this is your third date man, are you sure that you guys don’t want to be alone. After all, we all know what happens on your third date,” Bucky said with a smirk as he grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and he handed one to Steve.

Steve was silent for a second as he twisted the cap off of the bottle before he took a long swig from it, “nah man, we slept together on the second date,” he confessed it so nonchalantly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he felt immensely proud of his best friend that used to be so awkward around pretty women. However, it was slightly dulled by the fact that he was a tiny bit disappointed that Steve hadn’t confided in him. Though, Bucky respected Steve’s privacy but it didn’t stop him from pouting just a little bit.

“What? Why didn’t you say anything, how was it?” Bucky blurted out his questions as Steve tried his best to conceal a snicker as he rubbed at his freshly shaven jaw.

“I’m almost certain that Peggy wouldn’t want me broadcasting our first sexual encounter together,” he said reasonably and even Bucky had to give that one to him, “also, it was really amazing,” he muttered as a light blush lit up his features.

“Yeah of course it was, you little slut,” Bucky joked as he drained the last drops of his beer and he patted Steve on the back, “c’mon dude, are we ready?”

Steve nodded as he followed suit and grabbed his jacket along with his keys, “yeah, let’s go.”

It was a bracing night that caused the two men to huddle their faces into their jackets, thankful that the bar that they were going to was only a couple of blocks away. From the minute they entered the bar Bucky realised that he couldn’t smell the foul stench of stale beer, cigarettes and sweat. He also noticed that the floor wasn’t really that sticky when he was walking on it, the more his eyes scanned the bar the more he was realising that it was a lot nicer than the bars he was used to going to.

Bucky gave Steve a questioning look and Steve ducked his head, a sheepish sort of expression on his face, “I wanted Peggy to be somewhere nice, I didn’t want her to be in those awful bars that we usually frequent.”

“Jesus Christ, Rogers you’re such a sap,” Bucky snickered as he punched Steve in the arm.

Steve glared at him as they walked to a little side room where the darts board and a snooker table was, on the way Bucky winked at the blonde barmaid who was showing too much cleavage, chuckling as she simpered at him. The table that Peggy and her friends were sitting on was facing the main room so they didn’t feel to out of the thick of it.

The pretty brunette was sitting there with two women from the hospital, one with orange hair, and the other blonde, an older man with waves of dark hair. Sitting right in the middle of the group was Sam Wilson, Darcie’s best friend. Sam nodded at Bucky as he and Steve approached the table, Bucky returned the greeting.

Peggy beamed as Steve leaned down to kiss her and she grinned at Bucky, “hey Buck.”

“Hey,” he smiled and gave her a little wave, Peggy introduced him to Bruce, Carol, Wanda and Sam, it was clear that she obviously didn’t know that they already knew each other.

Bucky shot a text to Thor to tell him and Loki where they were sitting, for the first half an hour or so the group had a few civilised drinks with a couple of shots in between. However, when Loki and Thor showed up with so many shots that every person had two each everything changed. Loki and Thor had always brought the party, even in high school. The more drunk Steve and Peggy got the more into PDA they were.

Bucky and Sam shared a glance before Sam spoke up, managing to break the couple apart, “how about we have a few rounds of darts? Boys against girls?” he suggested.

Everyone cheered their approval and they headed for the dartboard, “thank god for you man,” Bucky laughed with Sam for a moment, it was kind of nice since they didn’t really speak at all in high school.

“Hey, anytime pal,” Sam snickered as the two men stood to score the game.

Halfway through the first match Peggy let out a gasp and she spoke in a high pitched squeal, “yay! You’re here!”

Bucky turned to see where Peggy was walking to and he saw her, clad in an emerald green dress that sparkled with silver shoes and accessories. Half of her hair was pinned up into a bun; the rest of her dark hair cascading down past her shoulders, her skin glowed underneath the artificial light of the bar. She looked beautiful but perhaps it was just his drunk mind giving him bad ideas, his jealousy was definitely due to the alcohol that he’d consumed, or maybe that’s just what he was telling himself.

Darcie positively beamed as she kissed Peggy on the cheek, gave Sam a hug before she slipped her arm back through the arm of the handsome man that was by her side, “everybody!” Peggy called, gathering everybody round, “this is Liam and he’s a firefighter,” she giggled drunkenly as the man pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled warmly at everyone, offering his hand for them all to shake.

“It’s great to meet you guys,” he nodded as he wrapped an arm around Darcie’s waist as she smiled brightly at him. Bucky nodded and smiled tightly around the lip of his beer bottle, gripping Liam’s hand perhaps too hard before sitting back in his chair.

If he was sober Bucky would feel a little intimidated but he didn’t tonight, he just felt pissed off, especially when Darcie offered him a charming smile and a meek, “hello,” acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Bucky raised his head slightly as her eyes lingered on him, “hey.”

--------------------------------------------

It had been a little bit awkward at first, when Liam had suggested that they meet up with her friends after their date, she hesitated because she knew that she would see Bucky. However, Liam was so sweet with his boyish charm and gorgeous Irish accent that she couldn’t possibly refuse him. Though, she wished that Bucky didn’t look so gorgeous tonight with his perfectly dishevelled hair and his crisp white shirt that was rolled up to his bulging forearms and a couple of buttons were popped open.

After a while though, it turned out to be quite relaxed, she had missed Loki and Thor with their ridiculous jokes that put everybody at ease. It had soon come out that Darcie had attended high school with Thor and Loki, much to Peggy’s surprise. Thankfully, they hadn’t mentioned that Bucky had gone to the same school yet. At the present moment Loki was laughing about a movie they had studied in film class.

“I’m pretty sure that as soon as the Captain started singing Edelweiss, Darcie here genuinely started weeping,” he teased as he ran his fingers through his deep brown curls as he laughed.

“Hey!” Darcie giggled as the whole table apart from Bucky laughed, “I definitely wasn’t the only one who cried and that scene is so beautiful by the way,” she beamed happily as Liam squeezed her knee gently and his warm lips kissed her cheek.

“You’re right,” Thor smirked, “you definitely weren’t the only one, I’m sure that Barnes shed a few tears too,” he let out a booming belly laugh before the whole table went silent.

Darcie felt her stomach drop as she exchanged slightly panicked glances with Sam, Steve and Bucky.

“I didn’t know that you two went to high school together,” Wanda laughed and Peggy gave Darcie a weird look and she almost shrank back into her seat. Originally, Darcie had told Peggy that she knew Steve because their families were friends.

“Neither did I, were you guys friends or something?” Peggy asked, trying to sound as casual as she could.

Before anybody could reply, Darcie burst out, “no!” the table went silent at her outburst and she got a lot of strange looks, she didn’t even look at Bucky. If she had, she would have seen the look of hurt on his face, “we didn’t really know each other, right?”

She looked over the table at Bucky, his jaw was clenched and he drew a deep breath in through his nose, making his nose flare, “right,” he confirmed in a tight voice.

“I need some air,” without waiting for a reply she swallowed the last of her drink before she walked outside and she sat on the hard stone wall with her head in her hands.

She was sitting there for a couple of moments on her own, wondering how and when it all went wrong. The door suddenly banged open as someone sat next to her, she turned to face her companion and was surprised to see that it was Bucky; she had expected it to be one of the girls or Liam.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice as Bucky lit up a cigarette and she didn’t have the heart to scold him, he took a drag before replying.

“Liam seems like a nice guy,” he simply said, his voice sounded a little weird but Darcie just chalked it up to the fact that he had been drinking.

“He is,” she smiled despite herself, “Peggy introduced us.”

“Hmm,” he made a non-committal noise as he took another long drag, it was silent for a couple of moments before he spoke up, looking at her for the first time since he’d come outside. Darcie wished that she didn’t see the hurt that filled his eyes, “every time we take one step forward I feel like the universe pushes us five steps back, ” his gaze flickered down to look at her lips.

“What do you mean?” Darcie whispered even though she knew.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he sighed sadly as they proceeded to sit in silence together.

  --------------------------------------------

@void-imaginations @theonelittleone @dreamacoholic @thesswintersoldier @harryngtonewithyourshit @iamariotgrrl @wavyjassy @nobody444

[favficarchives]

Tactile Engineer (One-shot)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader Summary: Tony Stark calls in his favorite tactile engineer to help pull together some wardrobes for the new team members. Wanda is simple enough, but Pietro’s enhancements give the reader a run for her money. Genre: Fluff Warnings: None Word count: 3,316

[Masterlist]

A/N: This was inspired by a gifset I saw ages ago and can’t find anywhere for some reason. It was all about the different parts of Edna Mode’s (from The Incredibles) job beyond “fashion designer,” and it really resonated with me. If I ever find that gifset again, I’ll link to it.

Was there anything worse than being woken up 30 minutes before your alarm by the shrill ringtone of your sometimes-boss?

Probably. But at this point, you really didn’t care to think too much on it.

“This is Y/N,” you answered, trying desperately to disguise the grogginess in your voice.

“Morning, sunshine!” The annoyingly chipper Tony Stark responded. “How are you on this lovely day?”

You groaned, shifting to sit up in your bed. “Tired, overworked, and underpaid. And yourself?”

“Well-rested, living large, and extremely wealthy.”

“You suck.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear as boisterous laughter rang through the phone. It wasn’t like Mr. Stark to be so… perky. Something big must be going on. Which meant you were more than likely to redefine the very word “overworked”.

“What do you need, Mr. Stark?”

“We got two new team members,” he explained, bringing down his tone to suit your own, “They’re going to need some special uniforms, and you know I only go to the best.”

You smirked. “So what the hell are you doing calling me?”

“Haha.”

You’re smirk turned into an easy smile. “When do you need me in?”

“The kids are –“

“Kids?”

“Sorry, ‘young adults,’ are still pretty jet-lagged, so they won’t be up for a few more hours.”

“So why the hell am I up?”

“Because I love you?”

You refused to dignify that with a response, glaring at your phone and ending the call. With an aggravated groan, you crawl out of bed and wander over the bathroom, shooting a text to your actual boss before hopping in the shower.

“This is Y/N L/N,” you heard Natasha say. “She’s our designer and will get you two suited up in no time.”

Maybe it was your early morning wake up call, maybe it was your boss’s unnecessarily snarky response this morning, or maybe it was being reminded once again how underappreciated you were, but her comment really rubbed you the wrong way.

You were not a designer, you were a tactile engineer. Designing is simply part of that.

You did not belong to them. You didn’t belong to anyone.

You wouldn’t have anyone suited up “in no time.” You would take you time and do it right.

“Y/N,” Natasha called, causing you to turn in your desk chair, “This is Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.”

You greeted them with a tired smile and a nod. Wanda nodded back. Pietro studied you silently.

“I’ve read through both of your files,” You said, rising from your seat and walking towards them. “Wanda, you should be pretty simple. You won’t need much more than the average agent, just fitted and suited to your personal tastes.

“Pietro,” You announced playfully, looking the speedster dead the eye. “You are my white whale. You need a wide of outfits designed for aerodynamicy, as well as comfort. We’ll also need to create a variety of friction-proof fabrics. We will either succeed, or we will kill each other.”

The Sokovian man smirked and raised a thick, dark eyebrow. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like hell,” You corrected. “Wanda, you’re first.”

You’d been working at Avenger’s Tower for over two weeks. Your boss at the luxury boutique was on the brink of firing you last week – until, of course, a generous donation came from the ever-fabulous Anthony Edward Stark.

Wanda’s uniforms had been simple enough. All you needed were her measurements, aesthetic preferences, and texture preferences. Your sketchbook was full of basic work out essentials, battle suits, artic climate suits, tropical climate suits, basic espionage attire, formal espionage attire, and so on. You began creating the outfits – usually a stressful time for you, as a person can only handle so many busted sewing machines and needles to the finger before snapping – as a way to relax. Because, by God, Pietro’s suits were killing you.

You gave him an assignment at the beginning of last week. You wanted him to run through two pairs of shoes and his current workout clothes so you could determine the patterns of the friction damage.

The patterns on the clothes were what you expected, so there was no shock there. After that, though, came the shoes.

Once you got the wear patterns down, you took him out to get different shoes from different brands to test the integrity of the various inserts, soles, and treads. It was hellish for Pietro, who was running his heart out day after day, and it was hellish for you, being crouched over your desk for hours on end analyzing wear patterns and trying to figure out how the hell to create a material that could withstand his fucking running.

Just the thought of another full day working on this damn project had you exhausted. You took a deep breath as you approached your office, emotionally preparing for the hell that awaited you on the other side of the door.

You opened the door and immediately set your bag on the corner of your desk. Your eyes began searching for the pile of notes you’d taken yesterday, only to be immediately drawn to the bouquet of flowers that stood in a delicate glass vase in the center of the desk.

Weary (because who would be giving you flowers, and who would send them to the Avenger’s Tower?), you approached the bouquet and searched for a note. Tucked away among the petals and leaves was a little white card.

Flowers must smell better than old shoes, right?

-Pietro

You barked out a laugh, soon dissolving into giggles. The very cute, very funny man that you were sure was going to hate by the end of your time working with him had gotten you flowers. You never got flowers, and certainly not from a client. ‘Thank yous’, sure, but never anything beyond that.

You wandered out of your office and down the Avenger’s living room, your smile never leaving your face. You found Pietro munching on a bowl of cereal and sitting around the television with Steve and Sam. A small part of you wanted to go up to him and thank him with a kiss a cheek. However, you reminded yourself that there was no reason to think that his unbelievably sweet gesture was based in anything more than appreciate, and a kiss would cross that line.

So, you kept your distance, staying in your spot by the hallway.

“Pietro,” you called out, hesitantly toying with the small card in your hands. You promptly cast your gaze downward when his eyes met yours.

“Thank you,” you said, “For the flowers.”

Ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks, you risked a quick glance up. Pietro smiled back at you, his own cheeks dusted pink. The simple thought that you had a similar effect on him as he did on you sent your heart rate soaring.

You held his gaze for a few more moment before the beating in your chest became too strong to stand. Trying (and failing) to bite back your dopey smile, you left the room and returned to your now much livelier office.

Pietro POV

You’re smile knocked him out. Metaphorically speaking.

Unfortunately, though, Pietro was still very much conscious for Steve and mostly Sam’s incessant teasing that commenced immediately after you left.

“Seriously man, flowers? That’s old school,” Sam said with an approving look.

“No school like the old the school,” Steve mumbled through a mouthful of his cream cheese bagel.

“What’s your next move?” Sam asked eagerly, his breakfast forgotten on the coffee table as Pietro’s pseudo-love life became the focus of his attention.

Pietro’s face grew hot at the unwanted attention. “Nothing,” he muttered, rising from where he sat and walking towards the kitchenette.

“Nothing?” Sam and Steve responded incredulously.

“It was just a way to thank her,” he said quietly as he rinsed his cereal bowl in the sink. “She’s been working hard, and I wanted her to know that I appreciate it.”

He didn’t want to admit that your smile and blush gave him hope that maybe he didn’t have to convince himself of that excuse. Maybe you felt the same way.

Maybe.

“Flowers do not say ‘thank you,’” Sam told him with a smile. “A gift card says ‘thank you.’ Flowers say ‘I’ll still buy you dinner, but only if you I get to join you.’”

Pietro rolled his eyes, still facing away from the living room to avoid the other men seeing him blush. He wanted to believe them, to believe his own memories when he thinks about your sweet, shy smile for the fifteenth time in five minutes, but he couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t believe that someone like you – someone so strong, so sure, so capable, so beautiful – could feel that way about him.

He grew up a poor orphan. He is living as a mutated freak. And he seemed to be making your life hell.

He couldn’t believe that you felt anything but contempt for him.

“She feels the same way you do, kid,” Steve said as he approached the sink, the smile evident in his tone. “But don’t believe us. You’ll figure it out.”

Patting the younger man’s shoulder, Steve left the living area, a still-grinning Sam in tow. Pietro was grateful for the silence, spending several more minutes standing over the sink, thinking through every interaction the two of you had over the past two weeks, and falling in the love with the memory of your smile.

It had been a month and half, and you were still spending your days at the Avenger’s Tower. At this point, Tony half-joked about hiring you on full time.

“It’d be nice to have you in-house,” he said one night – or way too early morning, technically – as the two of you bonded over coffee and another sleepless night. “You could spend more time on your research and developing different fabrics and stuff, and we could have someone on staff who actually know exactly what they’re doing instead of kinda what they’re doing.”

You smirked. “I thought you only hire the best?”

He smirked back. “That’s why I want to hire you.”

The thought made you smile. Working with (or for) the Avengers had some obvious disadvantages – ridiculous hours, potentially hostile work environment, getting a top spot on the shit list of every big bad guy in the world – but it may have been better than what you currently doing. After all, working as a “team member” at an exclusive boutique didn’t even offer you much in the way of design work, much less tactile engineering. And you didn’t even get dental coverage.

Still, you tried to rein in your excitement at the possibility of moving on to bigger and better things.  Tony had mentioned his desire to hire you on full-time exactly once in the past six weeks, then never spoke of it again. And in your experience, that usually means someone isn’t interested.

As disappointing as it was, you couldn’t let it get you down. You had a job to do, and a white whale to conquer.

You had some of the test fabrics for Pietro’s suits ready to go. Now, you just needed to make the actual suit.

You called him in today to take his measurements, and the poor guy couldn’t stop blushing. Part of you wanted to giggle at how endearing it was, but another part reminded you how couldn’t stop blushing for a week after he gave you those flowers and he was kind enough to bite his tongue.

You measured his neck first, then his chest, shoulders, and back. You tried to ignore his intoxicating scent, but you made a mental note to be on the lookout for any candle or wax melt that mimicked it because damn.

The arm measurements went off without a hitch (another damn for those biceps). The waist measurement, in particular, had your face heating up; you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly… firm his abdomen was. You could probably count his abs with a light brush of your fingers, if you were so inclined…

‘But that would be unprofessional,’ you remind yourself, your blush deepening.

After you pulled yourself away from him and wrote down the measurement on your notepad, you lowered yourself to your knees and announced the next measurement: hips.

You wish you’d missed how wide his eyes got at the announcement. Maybe if you had, you could have pretended that everything was going to be just fine. As you wrapped your arms around his lower half, however, bringing your face uncomfortably and far too comfortably close to his... ahem… nether regions, you realized there was never going to be a way to pretend this was going to be just fine.

But damn, his ass was fine enough to make up for it.

‘Stop it!’ you scolded yourself. ‘He is a client and you are a professional. It’s just a sizing. Behave.’

Besides, he didn’t want you anyway. At least, not that you think.

The flowers got you excited, maybe a little too excited, but nothing else came from it. You thought maybe all of the blushing and smiles shared between the two of you (not to mention the Cheshire Cat grins on several of the other Avengers when they saw you two together) meant that you weren’t alone in your feelings. But, just like Tony had mentioned hiring you and then forgot about it, Pietro seems to have forgotten about whatever spark you felt.

Unless, of course, Pietro Jr.’s stirring is any indication.

You glance up at him in amusement as you pull away and move to do his outseam, biting back a grin at the poor man’s tortured expression. He looked absolutely mortified, but you couldn’t be happier. He definitely felt something, and that gave you hope.

You completed the outseam, ankle, calf, knee, and thigh (again: damn) measurements without issue. Pietro tensed considerably when the inseam measurement came about, but made it through.

As you wrote down the information and went through your checklist, a tag-team assault of delight and dread hit you full-force. Delight because of how amazingly embarrassed Pietro was going to be – the poor man – and dread because of how amazingly embarrassed you were about to be.

The crotch measurement.

That’s the one they never show on TV.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart. Ignoring the heat in your cheeks and thrill in your veins, you looked back up at Pietro. He seemed to finally be relaxing. You almost felt bad for ruining it.

Almost.

“Pietro,” you began softly, choking back a laugh, “there’s one more measurement I still need to take.”

He looked down at you a cocked an eyebrow.

You looked up at him, muffling your sheepish laughter as best you could.

“The crotch measurement,” you whisper through your mortified smile.

In an instant, Pietro was on the other side of your office. With his back flush against the wall and eyes wider than saucers, he looked like some poor bunny that just came face-to-face with a fox.

“Pietro,” you began softly, “I have to do it.”

He shook his head vigorously.

“Yes I d-“

“No you don’t.” He said immediately.

“I do if you want pants,” you told him with a wide smile.

“Who needs pants?”

You choked out a laugh.

“You do,” you told him, a smile still plastered on you face.

“Can’t I take it myself?” He whined.

Slowly, your sympathy for him began to break through the humorous awkwardness of the situation.

You shook your head lightly. “You don’t know how, and I’m the only one who knows what I have in mind for your pants and how they should fit.”

Pietro groaned in agony, his head falling in despair.

“I’m sorry,” you said lightly, a sympathetic smile replacing your earlier grin. “Please come back to the platform.”

Pietro groaned again, but did as you asked, looking every bit like a man who was walking to the gallows.

“So how much longer do you think this will take?” Pietro asked, glancing over your shoulder as you cleaned up your sketches and finished up your notes.

You paused, considering his question.

“Well,” you began, “It’ll take a few hours to make each outfit for you to test. From there we’ll work with different fabric combinations and work through any immediate complaints or concerns you might have. All in all, a few days to a few weeks, depending on our luck.”

“Days?” He asked in shock. “So I don’t have much time then?”

You halted your movements.

“Much time?” You asked. “Much time for what?”

He blushed again for the umpteenth time that day, and your heart was going wild. You didn’t want to get excited again and set yourself up for disappoint, but there was no way he’d be blushing this much if he didn’t feel something, right?

“I wanted to…uh,” he began, looking down and running a hand through his wavy hair. “I want to see if… if maybe you would… like to… go see a movie sometime… with me.”

You swear you might actually hurt yourself with how big you’re smiling.

“Well I don’t know, Pietro,” you teased. “That depends on the movie.”

A playful smile quickly replaced his bashful blush. He leaned over your chair, bracing a hand on the back of it and hovering over you.

“And what movie would appease you, Y/N?”

You chuckled and rose from your chair.

“Oh, I guess any movie will do,” you sighed dramatically, turning to face him. “As long as you’re there.”

He chuckled, approaching methodically and closing the distance between the two of you. You reveled in the closeness, and in the almost predatory look in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, you cut in.

“It can’t be until after I’m done with this project, though,” you told him in all seriousness, placing a hand on his chest to keep some distance between you. “Technically, you’re a client, and the idea of dating clients weirds me out.”

Pietro nodded in understanding.

“That’s fair,” he said, smirking. “We’ll wait until you are back at the boutique. I guess we’ll just have to hope luck is on our side.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, ready to tell him that luck was never on the side of a perfectionist, when Tony burst through the door.

“Y/N!”

He stopped.

“Maximoff?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

You wanted to die.

“What do you want Tony?” You asked.

His grin turned to you. Yup, you definitely wanted to die.

“I want your signature on these employment contracts,” He said simply, waving around the papers in his hands.

You shot him a confused look as you walked over and took the papers from his hand. “I already signed all of the NDAs and stuff for contract workers?”

“I don’t want you to be a contract worker,” he said simply. “I want you to work for us full-time. I told you this.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Tony, I already have a job-“

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“They fired you.”

“They what?!”

“FRIDAY didn’t give you the message?”

You groaned and collapsed in your chair.

“I told her to,” Tony said. “They called your cell last week. I picked up. They were really snotty about it. Not good people.”

“No, they’re not,” you said. “They fired me over the phone?”

“Yup.”

“Through someone else?”

“Yup.”

“Dickheads.”

“Yup.”

You snorted out a laugh, briefly glancing at the employment contracts in your hand. Well, fuck it, why not?

You turned to Pietro.

“How about we just go out this Friday?” you asked. “I don’t think I’ll be going back to the boutique anytime soon.”

He smiled, walking to where you sat in your chair and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“That works just fine for me.”