“ y-you know i’m just a receptionist at a hospital , right ? ” in their hands is a first aid kit consisting of things they stole from their place of work. “ i don’t think that i can help with... with that. ” nevertheless , they start taking out items that may be useful. “ am i allowed to ask what happened... ? ” / @sunkisseds
#POV: ur muse calls e.nder over bc theyre injured or smth... @.@ idk we wing it #⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ ENDER S. ⠀ ／ ⠀ * ⠀ exchange. #sunkisseds
Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; Bucky/Natasha; Steve & Bucky friendship; Natasha & Reader friendship; Dance Dance Revolution; not canon compliant past Captain America: The Winter Soldier)
Challenge: "160 Collective Drabbles" challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.
It all started with one of Steve and Bucky’s infamous double dates. You’d heard about them enough before dating Steve yourself to know you ought to stay as far away from such situations as was humanly possible, but Natasha wasn’t about to let you weasel out and force her to go on her own. Just when you were working up the nerve to lie to Captain America and say you simply could not risk going out that night-on account of coming down with death-flu virus, she showed up at your door with a makeup bag in hand. That was only your first indication that your life was about to take a definite, unwanted swerve.
The date itself wasn’t too bad, really. Steve and Bucky behaved themselves better than you expected. No big fights over dinner. No one even said anything about your makeup; Steve just gave you his standard you-look-beautiful smile, which made you wish you hadn’t let Natasha near your face all the more. Dinner was delightful, dessert sublime, and you actually found yourself enjoying being out with your boyfriend, his best friend, and his best friend’s girlfriend, despite all four of you being super spies to some degree.
It was on the way home when things actually began to fall apart. The restaurant had been selected due to its close proximity to a movie theater you and Steve were headed to afterward, while Natasha and Bucky went home to a more intimate night. You hadn’t thought twice about the restaurant being inside the same mall until your little quartet passed an arcade full to bursting with teens and pre-teens that Friday night.
“What’s that?” Steve pulled to a complete stop. Since you were arm in arm with him, you did too.
Two lanky girls could be seen on a brightly flashing machine a few steps inside. A crowd had gathered around to watch them stomp to the rhythm of music blaring from the machine’s speakers.
Bucky released Natasha’s hand to backtrack to you and Steve.
“Obviously that’s a dubstep party game,” he observed after watching the girls leap and come crashing down onto the metal bases to wild applause. He tugged Steve down into a headlock and pushed his flesh knuckles into Steve’s skull. “Did your brain fall out while you were busy playing hero without me?”
“Don’t act like you know everything about this time period,” Steve said, struggling to break free of Bucky’s grip.
“I know a hell of a lot more than you, punk. Which one of us was conscious the last seventy years, and which one was getting his beauty sleep?”
“It’s really too bad, because you could use some beauty sleep, Buck.”
“I feel sorrier for you. You got some, but you’re so ugly even seven decades couldn’t fix your face.”
You rolled your eyes. Quiet though you might have been, even you couldn’t stand Steve and Bucky for long when they started tearing into each other like that.
“Steve,” you said, as they began to wrestle right there in the foyer. He ignored you, even when you placed a hand on his bicep. “We’re going to miss the movie.”
“You’ve clearly got permanent brain damage. Anyone could tell that isn’t dubstep,” he told Bucky.
“Oh yeah? Tell me, does your list of things to catch up on this century only include garbage?” Bucky asked.
“Oh, for the love of–” You turned to see that Natasha had sidled up next to you. “Jim, I’m leaving.”
“You’re coming with me.”
Bucky looked up. “Do I have to?”
Sometimes you believed Natasha when she lamented that Bucky’s bromance with Steve was deeper than Bucky’s romance with her. Still, she handled it with more grace than you would have, merely arching a single eyebrow. “Do you want to see me naked tonight?”
The answering pause was just a little too long. “Yes.”
“Then yes. Let Steve and [Name] get to their movie. Who cares about a couple of kids playing Dance Dance Revolution?”
“Dance?” Bucky echoed, turning back to the arcade.
“That’s dancing?” said Steve.
“It’s a rhythm game from Japan,“ you explained.
“Who cares where it’s from?” Bucky asked, grinning as he stepped away from Steve. “If it’s got the word ‘dance’ involved, no way can Steve do it.”
“I’ve gotten better, you know. [Name] and I do go dancing sometimes. I didn’t step on her toes once last time. Right, [Name]?” Steve asked.
“Er…it’s not really the same kind of dancing,” you answered carefully.
Steve frowned, then turned hotly back to his friend. “Doesn’t matter. I could beat you at Dance Dance Revolution with my hands tied behind my back, Barnes.”
“Fine,” said Bucky. “Two weeks from now, you and me, back here, hardest level.”
“Jim,” Natasha said warningly.
That should have been the end of it. You’d thought that was the end of it. Steve was perfectly attentive for the rest of your date, and the arcade was long closed by the time you got out of the movie. The boys might have had super-soldier memories, but they usually got over their scuffles pretty quick these days so they could move on to the next one. You fully expected Steve to complain about Bucky’s nerve for a few days more, then forget all about their little bet.
What you got instead…wasn’t that.
“So I was thinking we could try somewhere new for lunch today,” you told him a week later.
“A new vegan place just opened up around the corner. We could walk there, and it’s healthy.”
“Thing is, they’re only open for a few hours for each meal, so we had better get going now so we don’t wait in line for nothing.”
“Are you listening to me?”
The vague noise he made in answer wasn’t necessary. Steve hadn’t listened to you for nearly seven straight days. He had arrived at your apartment that morning as he had every morning since that stupid double date: carrying an old PlayStation 2 and 25 thin plastic dance mats in his arms. There were already six torn-up pads sitting shoved up against the opposite wall along with your sofa. Something told you Steve’s seventh wouldn’t last much longer.
A loud buzz interrupted your quiet seething. Steve didn’t react at all, which made some sense since this wasn’t his place. Still, you were starting to feel like Steve’s bromance with Bucky was more important than Steve‘s romance with you, too. You hunched your shoulders as you stalked over to press the button on the intercom.
“Who is it?” you asked.
“Come on in.”
A few seconds after you buzzed her up, there was a knock at your door. You didn’t think Steve’s music was loud enough to disturb your neighbors (just his stamping around), but Natasha figured out what was going on immediately.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Your idiot is obsessively playing DDR, too.”
“How’d you know?” you asked flatly, opening the door up enough for her slip inside.
“Oh, only because Jim insisted on stopping by Game Stop after our date last week and he hasn’t stopped playing since. I don’t even think he’s sleeping.”
“Steve’s sleeping, but only because he won’t stay the night and his apartment’s too small for all that jumping.”
“Are you really just going to sit here and watch him all afternoon?”
You shrugged. “I don’t have much else to do on my days off. I was trying to convince him to take a break and go get lunch.”
“At that new vegan place?” Natasha brightened up considerably. “I’ll go with you. I have got to get somewhere with less testosterone.”
So lunch was nice that day. Dinner was considerably less so. As the days wore on, you found yourself spending more and more time with Natasha, to the point that by the time the two weeks were up you seriously wondered if dumping Steve so you could date her instead might have been the easiest solution available to you. Too bad Natasha wasn’t really your type–and that Steve was so cute when he was excited about something.
“[Name], what are you doing?” he asked over your breakfast before his and Bucky’s big DDR showdown.
You had only just showered, dressed, and put a bowl of organic oatmeal in the microwave, and there Steve was, standing fully clothed in your kitchen.
“What are you doing in here?” you asked, bewildered. You certainly couldn’t remember letting him inside this morning.
Steve waved away your confusion. “I never left. I was up all night practicing.”
Of course. Your boyfriend wouldn’t stay over to cuddle with you, but he would stay over to cram in a few extra hours of video games. Somehow, this wasn’t the life you had envisioned for yourself when Captain America had asked you out. You decided it prudent not to comment on his priorities as you took your oatmeal out of the microwave.
“I’m eating breakfast. You should have some, too,” you told him.
“I’m not hungry,” said Steve. A blatant lie, considering he could eat whole mountains of bran cereal on mornings he hadn’t spent the entire night before exercising. What on earth was this contest turning him into? “Besides, there’s no time. We’re late enough as it is.”
“Late for what?”
“For DDR. We want to get there before a crowd starts to form.”
“That bad, huh?”
“You don’t want anybody seeing you wipe out, do you?”
Steve flushed faintly. “No!”
“Uh-huh.” Maybe you would have been sympathetic, if he hadn’t spent the past fourteen days ignoring you. “Well, go on. Don’t let me stop you.”
“You’re…not coming? [Name], you have to come.”
“Because I want you there.” You shot him a look and Steve added, “and the loser has to buy lunch for everyone afterward. We could try out that vegan restaurant you were talking about a few weeks ago.”
He didn’t realize you had been there three times already with Natasha. For one second, you considered telling Steve where he could cram his remaining dance pads. But he was Steve, after all, and you missed him even when he was incredibly stupid when it came to Bucky.
“Fine,” you groaned.
Steve beamed, placed both hands on your shoulders, and bent to swiftly kiss you once on each cheek. “Thank you.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his affection, but still told him “you owe me one” as you threw on your jacket and headed out the door.
“For what?” Steve asked.
Natasha must have felt the same way. She appeared as annoyed as you’d ever seen her as she and Bucky crossed the street to you and Steve in front of the arcade. Her hands were shoved into the front pockets of her coat.
“Hey,” you said to her, not Bucky. Bucky did not deserve a hello. If he hadn’t started this whole affair, the last two weeks would not have been as frustrating for you and Natasha.Not that Bucky noticed your snub, busy as he was eyeing Steve and the vacant DDR machine in turns.
“Hi,” Natasha replied. “Ready to get this over with?”
“Can we please?”
Steve and Bucky were doing stretches, looking very serious. A couple of kids playing hooky smirked at them from over by the Mortal Kombat cabinet. This went on for several minutes before Bucky started looking around for his girlfriend–a first in a long time, you’d hazard a guess.
“We’re ready for you,” he said when he found her.
Hard-faced, Natasha crossed her arms and took a deep breath and a step forward.
“The rules are as follows,” she said in a deadpan. “Best score over three songs wins. No do-overs. No extensions. No sabotaging the other player. Stay on your own pad. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Bucky and Steve and unison. They took their places and prepared to slip several quarts into the machine’s slot.
“One more thing,” said Natasha. “[Name] picks to the songs.”
“What?” Steve said.
“Why?” said Bucky.
“Because she deserves to after this mess, and that way I won’t have to listen to you whine about how the other guy cheated or that I picked songs so Bucky would win.”
“She’ll pick songs so Steve wins!” Bucky protested.
“Really? Would you now?” Natasha lifted both eyebrows this time as she looked at you.
Wincing slightly at her forcibly dragging you into this feud, you moved closer to the dance floor’s edge. No need to tell Steve how really peeved you’d been; he looked concerned enough as it was.
“Keep rotating through the music until I feel you to stop,” you said.
Though he didn’t look happy about it, Bucky did as he was told. There were a lot of songs, most of which sounded to you like Steve’s dubstep phase–that being a lot of unnecessary noise. But there was one that sounded kind of nice.
“Stop,” you commanded. “That one. I like that one.”
Bucky snorted. “Butterfly? Seriously?”
“It doesn’t have many feet, [Name],” said Steve. Certainly the little level indicators next to it didn’t go very high compared to some of the other songs Bucky had looped through.
“You heard the woman,” Natasha said. “Now move it up to the highest level and get on with it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this arcade.”
The men exchanged looks, then, with an obvious lack of grace, lifted their legs at the exact same time to press the arrows until the mode read “challenge.”
The game began. Immediately the screen became so full of arrows that you had no idea what was going on. Somewhere some woman was singing about butterflies and samurais and the colors in the sky, but you could hardly make her out through all of Bucky and Steve’s frantic steps on the pads. Their uncoordinated movement looked to you like only putting one foot down at a time when your estimate told you they’d need about eight mats apiece and twelve legs to clear whatever that minefield was supposed to be.
Just as soon as it started, the song ended. “Failure,” a deep, booming voice rang out as a picture of a metal gate clanged across the screens.
“What?” Steve cried, indignant.
“Come on!” said Bucky.
“Weird,” said Natasha, “that a serum designed to make you a good soldier during World War II isn’t also designed to make you good at Japanese rhythm games.”
“If it had,” Steve panted, “we would have won the war a hell of a lot faster.”
Bucky was less generous. “I’d like to see you do batter, Natalia.”
Much to your surprise, Natasha grinned. “Gladly. Come on, [Name].”
“What?” You stepped back. “Me?”
“Sure. Let’s show them how it’s done. We’re not going to do it on that insane mode they did, though.” She stepped up as Steve and Bucky left, producing a roll of quarters from one of her pockets. Must have expected this result.
“Hey! Then what’s the point?” asked Bucky.
Natasha rolled her eyes “Please. You couldn’t have even passed a beginner mode chart with those moves. [Name] and I will fill in for you two–whichever us wins, wins for her boyfriend–but we are not going to make fools of ourselves in public, no matter how amusing it was to watch you do it.”
“She’s got a point,” Steve murmured.
“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky said.
If Natasha wasn’t going to make you try to step on twelve thousand arrows at once, you figured it was worth a shot. All of that watching Steve for the past two weeks had to have paid off somehow, right? You took your place on the pad beside her, and soon Butterfly was starting up again, this time on a level just slightly above beginner.
You weren’t great-she was definitely a lot better, racking up perfect combos while you got mostly goods–but you had fun. So much fun that the song was over just a little too quickly. You tried to catch your breath while waiting for your scores: An AA* for Natasha and a B for you.
Steve applauded as you turned around. Bucky appeared slightly more surly.
“Good enough for you?” Natasha asked him.
“Wasn’t challenge mode,” Bucky said. “Not hard enough.”
“Let he who can pass challenge mode pass judgement,” she said brightly, and swung off the pole and onto the floor. “And since you couldn’t even do what I just did, I think it’s about time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”
“Guess it doesn’t really matter. Natalia won, which means I won, which means Stevie is buying us all lunch. Let’s go!”
“Suppose I owe it to you,” said Steve, “after all those pathetic dance moves. Maybe you would have done better on a full stomach.”
“You did every bit as bad as me, pal. Don’t go pretending you could hold a candle to my girl. Now make with the lunching.”
Natasha groaned. There they went all over again. What was next? A House of the Dead marathon? Because if you were going to have to listen to these two trade quips with each other over zombie headshots, you were out of there.
“No,” you blurted over their arguing.
This time they both went quiet.
“No?” asked Bucky.
“No what?” Steve agreed.
“No,” you repeated, hopping onto the carpet. “I’m not going. Lunch by yourselves.”
Steve and Bucky looked dumbstruck. You had never so blatantly refused Steve’s company before, and most women even these days didn’t refuse Bucky’s. Natasha just smiled a knowing smile and leaned her arm on your shoulder.
“[Name]’s right. I don’t think that was your win anyway, James,” she said.
“Then whose win was it?” he demanded.
“Common sense’s. And since we’re the only ones here with that, it’s [Name] and I’s win together. We don’t want another double date.”
“What we want is our boyfriends back,” you said. “The only thing Steve’s paying for is to take me out. Not Bucky again.”
“If you disagree,” Natasha added with a further smile, “I can personally guarantee that I will make your lives a living hell. Both of you.”
They exchanged another look.
A second later, Steve came forward to take your hand. “Right,” he said. “Lunch. You and me. Where do you want to go? That vegan place?”
“Anywhere. Wherever you want to go.”
It was with great relief that you let Steve guide you out of the arcade, through the mall, and up the busy street. Just before you left, you heard Bucky talking to Natasha:
“You know, you don’t have to be so persuasive.”
“Don’t I?” she replied.
Then Steve was speaking to you, and whatever was going between Natasha and Bucky didn’t matter anymore.
“Was I really ignoring you that much?” he asked. “You should have said something.”
“I did, Steve. Several times. You were too busy ripping those dance pads apart to notice.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Now that this over with, I don’t need the rest of them. I’m thinking about donating all that stuff to the YMCA.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” you said, thinking of all the room you would have back in your apartment. These dreams were dashed almost as soon as they appeared.
“On the other hand, maybe I should keep them. For when Bucky and I have a real rematch.”
Clearly, you were going to have to get used to this idea: If you were going to date Steve, you were going to have to do a lot of sharing with Bucky Barnes. At least Natasha was in the same boat–and at least sometimes Steve could focus on you just long enough to have a nice lunch.
This morning I was walking through Snowchester and saw a creeper outside Ex President Tubbo's cabin home. I got a good shot on it and killed it fast, but as I was putting my bow away, I saw little Michael looking out at me with stars in his eyes. I don't think I've ever been happier to see the kid, ever.
#i swear the kid is going to make my heart explode one of these days #heres hoping Mr. Tubbo Underscore and his partner dont find out ive been visitng their kid #dream smp citizen #dream smp citizen pov #dsmp citizen pov
turns out all of my emotions collapse into nostalgia
#trying to collate #playlists#of vibes #but no matter what theme I pick I end up picking a general historical period to feel sad and nostalgic for #like can’t even have a witchcraft playlist without it having to be like #from the pov of being nostalgic for a time I was a witch #all things must be seen through the prism of nostalgia #obvs I’m using that loosely to also mean for things I also wasn’t present for
The Yellowstone Thieves’ Guild convenes, sort of, and steals Axel Cardenas, sort of. Written for Blasetober, day twenty-two: Heist.
Yellowstone is… fine. One of the most normal ballparks, in Axel’s opinion. At least it’s not underwater or in literal hell or anything, which is a weird standard, but whatever.
At first the deal was that shadows players didn’t have to travel to away games. But Burke’s been tetchy about the whole “team incineration” and “voicemail” thing, so now Axel gets to travel again. Has to travel again. Has lost control over his life again, if you want to frame that way.
Point is: Yellowstone. It’s fine. Axel’s having a great time sitting in the shade and watching his teammates totally cream the Magic. It’s a good enough time that he doesn’t notice when someone sits down next to him.
And then the coyote barks, which disturbs Axel’s peace of mind, and also makes him realize that the person next to him is a freaking coyote.
“What the hell,” Axel gasps, so fast it’s basically one word. The coyote barks at him again, and he squints. “Are you… the one that plays blaseball? Or am I just talking to a wild animal?”
The coyote immediately starts wagging her tail, so Axel has to wrack his brain. “Walton,” he says at last, and she barks again. He’s definitely played games against Halexandrey Walton, but this is the first time they’ve ever had a conversation. Or sort-of conversation. Whatever.
“Bored?” he asks, and Halexandrey’s tail droops. “Yeah, me too. It sucks playing blaseball, but somehow it sucks even more watching other people play blaseball.”
Walton barks, which… Axel’s honestly not sure how to interpret that. Instead he says, “You guys got concessions or something? Your stadium’s huge, I can’t find anything.”
Halexandrey springs to her feet and starts trotting in a direction that seems completely random to Axel. But he’s not exactly a survivalist, so he follows after her dutifully, because it honestly feels like the coyote is less likely to get attacked by a rattlesnake than Axel is.
It’s actually not half bad. The park is pretty, even if it takes forever to get anywhere. He’s almost enjoying himself when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket.
Axel rolls his eyes. Only one person would call him, so he answers without checking. “What?”
“Axel,” Burke says evenly. “Have you been stolen by the Yellowstone Thieves’ Guild?”
He looks down. His jersey is Magic red. “Coyote,” he says slowly. “Are you kidnapping me?”
Walton barks in protest, but she catches sight of his jersey and sits on her haunches, cocking her head in that cute way dogs do when they’re confused.
“The coyote kidnapped me, but it might’ve been an accident,” Axel tells Burke. And then he hangs up before it can become a whole thing. “Walton, we’re teammates now. You wanna show me how to get to the actual field?”
Halexandrey barks excitedly. So at least she’s an enthusiastic teammate.