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[agntwells]

@ptmcservicedog sent | [  TXT  ]  :  which  one  of  us  would  survive  a  horror  movie?  and  who’d  die  in  the  dumbest  way? [ text meme ]

[ txt : theo ] ohh pft, i’d be the one to die in a dumb way, every time. [ txt : theo ] turn a corner and run RIGHT into the killer, that would be my luck [ txt : theo ] … dare i ask what sparked this question?

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@vallorouslly sent | I had nothing to do, I wanted to hear your voice. [meme]

Liza smiled to herself as she propped her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could talk to Logan while she scooped cookie dough from the mixing bowl. “Way to make a girl blush over the phone, Finnegan.” She teased lightly, the smile obvious in her voice while she worked. It was late -- past dinner time, at least, and Logan's call came as a bit of a surprise, but she hadn't even hesitated in answering.

“I didn't have anything to do, either, until I remembered I had everything I needed to bake cookies. And now I'm also remembering that the bag of chocolate chips I always get makes four dozen cookies, but I'm committed now.” Liza said, rambling but knowing that Logan wouldn't be bothered. Especially considering he just said he called because he wanted to hear her voice. Her heart stuttered at the thought, that he was calling because he missed her. “Better believe you're getting some of these, by the way.” 

Pausing her motions, she bit the inside of her cheek for half a second. “If you… since you don’t have anything to do, you’re welcome to come keep me company. If you want, I mean… I know it’s a little late.”

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@vallorouslly sent  | He was always a little hesitant to invite people to military events, but his retirement is something that's markedly exciting. And spending that with Eliza? He was giddy and nervous all at once as he picked her up that night, knocking on her front door and fidgeting slightly with dress uniform, desperately trying not to run his fingers through his hair instead. He goes still once the door latch clicks open and he finds himself staring at her at a loss for words. "H-hey, you ready to go?" He'd opted for his truck, of course, parked just in front of the little house. He can't stop smiling like a teenager, though, and he knows it shows.

Liza was overthinking this, she knew she was -- it was a retirement ceremony, for crying out loud. Logan had looked so pleased when she said she’d be glad to go with him, the invitation having taken her a bit by surprise. But, frankly, she wasn't about to pretend like she wasn't anxiously excited -- ever since he’d basically swooped in to rescue her the day she’d moved here, calling friends to help get her moving van un-packed when her movers flaked, she’d been enjoying the time they’d gotten to spend together. But this? Being invited to his retirement? It felt like kind of a big deal.

So she was staring down the two options she had left as far as dresses went -- the black one hadn’t even been considered, still trying to keep the memories of the last military ceremony she’d been to tucked safely into a box in the back of her mind. Her brother’s funeral had felt like a lifetime ago.

Gaze darted between the two dresses -- finally settling on the green one she’d snagged from a vintage shop in the city, a deep emerald she knew would set off her eyes but not call too much attention to herself. At least she’d already done her hair and makeup, zipping up the back of the dress just as she heard tires crunching the gravel drive. Slipping on a pair of comfortable black heels, she hurried to the door, shouldering her small purse just as the knocking sent her heart racing. 

Logan in normal clothes had been one thing -- but Logan in a uniform? And not his barista one... Jesus, she thought, her cheeks warming the second she pulled open the door and saw him there, looking just as lost for words as she was. A smile tugged at her lips, catching the almost giddy look in his eyes. “Yes -- yeah, I’m ready. You um… you look really good.” She said, letting that slip a little nervously as she stepped onto the porch with him and closed the door behind, locking it and sliding her keys into her purse. Smile was still set firmly in place as she looked up at Logan again, heart rushing in her ears. “Thanks for coming to pick me up, by the way, I appreciate it. Shall we?” She asked, playfully nudging his arm with her elbow as she started towards his truck.

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@thetenthman | cont'd

The sound was loud. It popped really. Bursting into the kitchen like a triggered explosive, for all that it wasn't. Luckily, it wasn't enough to set off any of Bucky's PTSD. His hand must have just malfunctioned, squeezed the bag too hard, applying pressure against the seams and then... well, pop with a dash of pfft to go with it.  Which meant that he was covered from head to almost toe, absolutely awash in the stuff, sprinkled in white, looking both startled and a little bit like Alpine. Flour. Was. Everywhere. He gaped at Liza, brows furrowed and eyes wide, still holding the now-broken bag in the grip of his left hand.  All because, all because he'd been trying to wheedle some chocolate chip cookies out of his not-not-girlfriend. All because she oh so sweetly had said, 'Here, let me show you how.' Which meant that him and her kitchen were splattered with the white dust with that single moment hanging frozen in place. Until he laughed, the ice of time cracking along with the breadth of his smile as he laughed. As he actually fucking laughed, which he'd almost never done before her, not in years, but that he did now, maybe a chuckle here and there, huffed a puff of the stuff, but nothing like this. This was deep from his belly, resonating from his chest, and so hard it made his eyes water. Covered in flour and filled with joy. Especially as he stepped forward. As he moved quick, as he closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her - flour bag still in hand - just so that she too was covered. Covered in it as he kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth and her neck, nuzzling right below her ear.  "Love you," he sighed, "I love you so, so fucking much, Liza." He didn't know if he'd ever said that before. Not like this, not to someone in his life. He may have, back then, when he was younger, when he'd been different. But never him, never now, and never ever meaning it as much as he did then.  Not like he did with her.  It wasn't planned. It wasn't thought of. Just perfect and honest and true.

The sound was unexpected and loud enough to startle, making her jump just the smallest bit while she was trying to cube the stick of butter for these cookies that Bucky had started giving her puppy-eyes for. Worried that something had happened, that the sound had triggered something, she set the knife on the counter and spun around, concern etched in the crease between her eyebrows.

Then she realized what had happened -- she’d asked Bucky if he’d open the extra bag of flour she had, and he’d opened it, alright. Opened it so well that now it was all over him, the floor, her kitchen counter… his eyes were wide as saucers, and he looked absolutely ridiculous.

Still, she stood frozen for that half second, a hint of a smile threatening to tug at her lips.

Then he laughed. Not like she’d heard from him before -- not a chuckle, not a playful huff, but a laugh that seemed to come from deep within. A belly laugh if ever she’d heard one, and it made her own smile widen to hear him sound so happy. So carefree in that moment that something as silly as a busted bag of flour could make him laugh so hard. She couldn’t help her own laughter, her own joy bubbling over to see Bucky like this.

When he started closing the space between them, she yelped, but it dissolved into giggles as he decided it was only fair to make sure she was equally as covered in flour. “Bucky!” She whined,  one hand rested on his chest, curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, her other hand moving to the back of his head. Her sides were starting to ache from laughing, but she wasn’t going to stop him, not when he was kissing and nuzzling at her.

Even if she wound up covered in flour, it was totally worth it.

And then he said I love you, and she swore her heart could have exploded. She felt it in her soul, pulled away just enough that she could let her forehead rest against his. Her hand slipped from his hair to rest on his cheek, thumb brushing some of the flour away as she practically beamed up at Bucky, her heart jumping against her chest like it was trying to reach for his own.

While he didn’t have to say it -- she felt it in everything he did, right down to the way he’d hold the door open for her, insist on carrying her bag, how he looked at her. The way he kissed her, the way he held her -- of course she knew he loved her. But hearing it? Seeing the way his eyes shone with it?

“I love you, too.” She murmured back. “And I love seeing you so happy… I love hearing you laugh like that. I love you.” Liza had never meant it like that before, had never felt it. Not this deeply, with a certainty that surprised her. Bucky made her feel this way -- certain. 

Liza pressed her lips to his, warmth blooming through her like ink in a glass of water, swimming through her veins as she felt settled. Content. But also still very much covered in flour. She pulled away, breaking the kiss too quickly, but not before nipping shamelessly at his bottom lip. “I’m afraid that the cookies are going to have to wait until we’re cleaned up… lucky for you that was my extra flour, I can still scrounge together enough to make you some if you still want them?” She asked, brows lifting slightly as she offered a teasing smirk.

“But you at the very least should shower, Bucky. You… you look so silly.” Liza said, unable to stop the giggles from escaping as she brought her other hand up, trying to dust off his cheeks. "I'm not this bad, am I? You came in pretty hot there."

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@thenamesallison | napping liza starter

She's not expecting anyone -- Liza purposefully marked herself on her calendar as 'busy' for a block of twenty minutes today just so she could squeeze in at least fifteen minutes of okay-ish nap time so she doesn't snap at someone. This week has been hellish -- literal explosions resulting in mountains of paperwork and reports, press releases, memos, emails...

Fifteen minutes of quiet isn't too much to ask, right?

The universe must hate her, because six minutes into her allotted twenty, her office door swings open then snaps shut in quick succession, and she startles -- gasping and then groaning in pain as her head hits her desk. Because her brilliant nap spot was under her desk -- just in case someone walked past and peeked inside.

"What the fuck?" Liza grumbles, shuffling slightly and peeking up over her desk to see who'd interrupted her. "What's on fire? I was... prepping for a meeting, is there some kind of emergency?" She asks, trying to sidestep the very obvious fact that she wasn't prepping for anything other than quiet time, but hoping the other woman wouldn't notice.

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@echomancerforhire | cont'd

As a wise woman once said, 'a spoonful of sugar helps the mage feel less like a car accident'.  It worked, naturally. Liza pressed her lips to his own, and the annoyance at the sting of the needle melted away. So too did the pain of the wound she was sealing, the soreness in August's muscles from the fight, and the exhaustion in his chest from using too much magic at once. He lifted a hand to cup the medic's cheek, bandaged fingers soft on her flesh. He could feel her still do her work, even as she kissed him.  When Liza broke it, August opened soft green eyes, gazing into hers. He pressed his forehead to hers, and let Liza finish her work.  "Better than a lollipop after a check-up." His baritone sighed. He smiled.  It was like he'd never even been hurt.

She’s never liked seeing August come back from any kind of mission or assignment hurt -- even the tiniest scrapes make her scowl and curse inwardly about whatever it was that’d hurt him. But it always hits something deeper when she has to do anything more. It sits like a stone in her stomach, the very idea that this could have been worse, that he could be dead… 

Liza quickly pushes that thought back down, takes in August's pained and mildly annoyed expression and manages a soft smile. “Hey,” she mutters quietly before leaning close, hopefully distracting from the pull of the last stitch with her kiss. It wasn’t long or lingering or heated, but his bandaged hand comes up to cup her cheek and she can’t help the soft, pleased noise that escapes against his lips before she pulls away.

Heart flutters when he rests his forehead against hers, a smile settling again on her lips as her gaze drops to where she needs to tie off the stitches. Once she snips the excess and cleans the wound again, Liza laughs quietly when he says the kiss is better than a lollipop. 

“Well, I think I can scrounge one of those up, too, if you want? Otherwise, I’ll be happy to continue kissing things better.” She murmurs, looking up to hold his gaze again, though the weight of her thoughts from earlier creeps back slowly. “Though really, I wish I could bubble wrap you before you leave… I hate seeing you hurt.” Liza sighs quietly, resting her forehead against his again, nudging her nose against his lightly.

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@vallorouslly sent a feral logan

That's just one problem of living in such a small town. There were people who knew him. And they didn't know when to not touch what was his. Although Eliza didn't know that yet, the simmering irritation turned into scalding anger as someone with sleazy fingers didn't get the point he was trying to make with body language. Having kept his eye on the man during the whole of their date night, Logan finally snapped when the other guy's hand dared touch Eliza's shoulder. Standing quickly, Logan said nothing as he grabbed his bottle of beer and smashed it on the man's disgusting mop of a head. He had the audacity to ruin their date night, and it was infuriating when he couldn't have his girl all to himself for a night out. The guy tried to throw a sloppy punch, but Logan was easily able to evade and punch his jaw, the shockwave radiating in pain all the way up his arm. Shaking it out, grabbing the sleaze's shirt, Logan pulled him in close. "You touch her one more time, you're eating your fucking teeth." He growled, soon tossing him forcibly back away from their table.

Their night had started out so perfectly -- it always did -- but something had shifted. Logan’s tension is noticeable and she almost asks if he’s okay. But she doesn’t get a chance to, not when she feels someone’s hand on her shoulder, fingers digging in to purposefully pull her attention. “What the f--” Liza starts, but doesn’t get much more out before she sees Logan standing, the sound of glass breaking makes her gasp sharply, standing just as punches were thrown. She yelps when she hears the sound of Logan’s fist connecting with the interloper’s jaw, but she doesn’t get in the way, not until she sees him grab the guy and yank him close. Her hands pressed to his back carefully, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt. “Logan--” She starts, but there’s something about the growl his voice takes on, the way he had so quickly reacted, possessive more than protective -- part of her wants to climb him like a tree, desire coiling low in her belly. 

“Hey…” Liza urges him to turn, stepping up beside him and moving one hand to his arm. “Baby, lemme look at your hands, are you okay? That sounded like it hurt.” She says, but her voice is breathier than usual, her eyes shining with a hunger for him more than the food on the table. “That was um… kinda hot.” Liza whispers, cheeks flooding with color at the admission as she reaches for his hand, gaze dropping to his knuckles.

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@vallorouslly (from here)

He won't panic. He's told himself he won't allow the spirals when he's waiting for her to come over for dinner. But he should know better. He never wins these fights, not when he reminds himself her phone could simply be in lower power mode, or in a dead zone which is a couple spots on the drive to his place from her house. He knows this, and yet he is drowning in the adrenaline and the fear and the memories flashing in his head like the worst nightmares he could possibly have. The house is silent, the better to hear when the car door closes. To hear when her spare key jingles in the lock. The better to hear so he can get up and rush to her, knowing he may startle her but he can't see past it. She's here. She's alive. She's safe. Grabbing hold of her, a bit awkward seeing as he wants to hug her but he has to feel the beat of her pulse beneath the tremble of his fingers. It's haphazard but it works, one on her back, the other on her jaw and just beneath the curve of it, drawing her in for a few hard, desperate kisses designed to sate him. To stop the fear, to listen to her heart on his thumb and treat it like a metronome to calm.

She left the house late, phone winding up stuffed into her purse. Ignored. Liza hadn’t thought to text Logan, was simply more concerned with trying to get over to his place without being ridiculously late, while also minding the speed limits. A soft finally escapes on a sigh when she pulls into his driveway, parking next to his truck before she heads up to the door. “Hey, I’m sorry I -- oh!” Liza’s barely inside when she feels Logan gathering her up hurriedly, like he can’t get her close enough fast enough. 

Her heart lurches into her throat at the desperate way he kisses her, the way she can feel the tremble in his fingers where he holds her jaw, his hand placed where he can feel the rush of her pulse beneath, her growing concern making it rush faster. “Hey -- hey,” Her hands come up, one slipping over his shoulder to gently fuss with his hair, the other cupping his cheek before she kisses him again -- slower. Trying her best to ground him, pull him from whatever was going on in his head. She only pulls back enough to break the kiss, pressing her forehead against his as she let herself melt into the way Logan's clinging to her.

“It’s okay… I’m here. I took a nap and overdid it, I’m so sorry I’m late.” She mutters, thumb brushes against his cheek as she tries to ease his panic, make sure he’s okay. “But I’m here now… tell me what happened, how can I help?” Liza continues to gently run her fingers through his hair, stroking her thumb against his cheek.