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natrogersfics · 3 days

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The Anthology - Chapter 1: The Bolter

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

His place, as it turns out. More out of proximity than anything else. And despite Natasha’s blood humming contentedly in her veins as she nestles underneath the sheets later that night, sleep doesn’t quite manage to find her. She looks away from the shadows dancing across the ceiling and turns to the space next to her, where Steve is slumbering peacefully. One side of his face is burrowed into his pillow, but it doesn’t matter. Somehow, underneath the moonlight streaming through the liminal space between the curtains, cutting through the darkness of his bedroom, he manages to look even more beautiful. Surrendering to the urge to reach across what little distance remains between them, she lets her fingers brush away the rogue strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead. The action elicits a blissful sigh from him as he stirs ever so slightly, and she doesn’t miss the way that makes her heart feel as though it’s a little too big for her chest.

This wasn’t the plan. When the directors had suggested that they spend more time together – allow the chemistry to blossom, they had said – they hadn’t agreed to anything more than afternoon coffees in the name of, as the panel’s mediator had put it, movie magic. And if either of them expected anything more, it’s not as though anything could really come of this anyway. He’s America’s sweetheart, the current darling of the industry and the face of the hottest superhero franchise. Tarnishing that image would be a crime – especially by her hands. Only those coffees had quickly turned into dinners in each other’s rentals. Which seamlessly paved the way for late night chats over bottles of wine that never quite made it into glasses. And before either of them realized, they were hooked on the taste of Bordeaux on each other’s lips. But even as reaching for each other in the middle of the night had started to become so automatic it was practically a reflex, she never thought it would turn into… well, this. This was only supposed to be fun, a harmless outlet for the relentless pressure that came with headlining a blockbuster. Nothing more. There was never supposed to be any reverence in this. At least, not in the way Steve touched her, setting her skin alight as he got to know every single inch of it as if it were his own. Nor was it supposed to be in the way he looked at her, his blue eyes baring into hers and seeing past seemingly every façade she’s spent years carefully crafting. But it’s there, its presence as glaring as the sun on a cloudless morning that even she can’t convince herself otherwise. Above all else, though, she was never supposed to reciprocate any of that. Not willingly, anyway. She could chalk up knowing that he can only take his coffee if it’s piping hot and that he can’t stand the taste of pickles to the many hours spent on set together, but what of the rest? She had no excuse for revealing to him, truthfully, the meaning behind the tattoos on her skin when he had asked – close to dozing off as he was. Or the vitriol that burns deep within her each time she hears the invasive questions the press directs at him, shamelessly trying to pry into what little of his life he doesn’t share with the world. Perhaps most egregious, though, is how sometimes, she catches herself wishing that here, next to him, is truly her place. That, when the sets are taken down and the shutters are placed back on all the lenses, she could still, at the end of the day, watch him dream.

Which is what she’s doing now, it seems. Fuck. The realization runs through her like a freight train, and it’s as though for a moment, the breath gets caught in her lungs. For this feeling, it’s one she knows well. One she’s felt before, one too many times, if the entire world were to have their say. And while the bruises from those times were solely metaphorical, she still knows where they are, and can still feel where they once marked her. A sudden flash in the dark breaks her reverie, and it’s almost in relief that she shifts to her side to reach for her phone on the bedside table, her lungs finally remembering how to function as she breathes in. On the screen, an email from her agent catches her eye. To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: URGENT

www.thedailystar.com/castmates-or-more - You don’t need this right now. Neither of you do.

Melina Vostokoff Head of Talent, Red Room Agency 310.168.0098

Her eyebrows furrow as she taps on the link and watches as it opens up her browser.

THE SOLDIER & THE SPY: ROMANCE ON SET

Love is in the air… but is it for who we think it is?

When Marvel Studios had announced that Captain America and Black Widow would be teaming up in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the long-awaited next installment to the studio’s burgeoning superhero franchise, fans were elated at the possibility of seeing the world’s first Super Soldier finally find his match in the reformed assassin. And while details of the movie’s plot are still being kept under wraps, it appears that regardless of what happens when the movie hits the big screen in the Summer, people may just get the sizzling romance they were seeking.

Costars Steve Rogers, 29, and Natasha Romanoff, 32, who play Captain America and Black Widow respectively, were recently seen having dinner at celebrity hotspot, Nobu Los Angeles. While they had arrived separately, a picture captured of Romanoff driving her onyx Corvette out the parking garage with Rogers in the passenger seat confirmed that the pair had left together at the end of the evening.

“They’ve definitely grown closer since filming began,” an anonymous on-set source tells The Daily Star. “They enjoy each other’s company and it’s not surprising to find them together during downtime. At least not to the people on set.”

Though Rogers hasn’t been linked to anyone in recent months, Romanoff’s divorce from Matt Murdock, star of the Daredevil television series on Disney+, was finalized in the Spring of last year. Prior to marrying the silver screen star, though, Romanoff, who rose to fame taking on roles as enigmatic ingenues in various acclaimed independent films, and who has twice been voted Maxim’s Sexiest Woman Alive, was also married to renowned surgeon, Stephen Strange, earlier on in her career.

The Daily Star has reached out to both Rogers’ and Romanoff’s representatives for comment but did not receive a response prior to this article’s publication.

What do you think of a potential romance between these two costars? Sound off below in the comments!

She knows better by now. Truly, she does. She was a mere child when she entered this industry. Back then, it did no good for anyone to look through the tabloid opinion pages when they were merely in print, and it’s even more deleterious now that anyone could fire off their hot take for the world to see. Even so, like a moth to a flame, she finds herself scrolling further down the page.

HannahLovesCap1918: if he’s wise he’ll stay away from this Maneater!!!!!!!!!!

_sarah_: Husband #3 already in her web, I see!

marvelloverr: Does she never not hang onto the next hot thing?

sophiaxxrogers: it’s giving engagement ring collector fr fr 💀

She stops there, but it doesn’t matter. Every headline written about her begins to flash through her mind like a highlight reel of every mistake she’s ever made, perceived or otherwise. And with a career that’s spanned as long as hers has, that list is lengthy – a ledger gushing with enough red to drown even those who claim to be unfazed by it. The reminder reawakens the pain that’s since dulled but found a permanent home deep in her bones nonetheless, quickly consuming the bubbly effervescence that occupied her mere moments ago, and if that isn’t reason enough to have her bolting out of bed, one final glance at the man sleeping next to her certainly is.

Prologue | Chapter 2 (Coming Soon)

#Romanogers #Captain America #Natasha Romanoff #Steve Rogers #Black Widow #The Anthology #The Bolter #steve x natasha #Movie Star AU #Hollywood AU

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alexswift13 · 3 months

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taylor announcing something on the eras tour will always be my favorite thing!!!

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ilostyou · 1 month

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the “i’m so in love that i might stop breathing” to “as she was leaving it felt like breathing” pipeline 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

#help #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #txt #paris #mparallels #the hits*#the bolter

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florida3exclamationpoints · 2 months

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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

#taylor swift #taylor swift edit #the tortured poets department #ttpd #the manuscript #the bolter #the albatross #the black dog #tswiftedit #ts edit #tsusermeggie #usereris #userelena #userleah #userthelasttime #usercruelstyle

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stillgotscars · 1 month

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the bolter - taylor swift

#taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the bolter #tswiftedit #my edit #typography

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taylornation · 1 month

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We’re unsealing THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT files for one last chance to pre-order your favorite special edition vinyl, deluxe CDs, and cassettes before publication on April 19. 🗃️

As the old simile goes, move swift af boi, because the special editions are available for 48 hours, and all editions have limited supply. 🤍

#Taylor Swift #THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT #TS TTPD #The Bolter #The Albatross #The Black Dog #The Manuscript #Vinyl #Cassette #Deluxe CD

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sheisobvious · 3 months

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the tortured poets department ♡

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #the albatross #the black dog #the manuscript #the bolter #mine #candy swift #tsedit #tswiftedit #tsedits #tswiftart #tswiftcreatorsnet #tswiftedits #taylor swift lyrics #ttpd

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swiftieinbrazil · 2 months

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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT + all editions

#taylor swift #tswiftedit #tsedit #taylorswiftedit #the tortured poets department #ttpd #ts11 #the manuscript #the bolter #the albatross #the black dog #ttpd era #ttpd aesthetic #my edit #tscreators #canva #tswift

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bbydoll18xx · 12 days

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I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 3)

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Read parts 1 and 2 here: Part 1 Part 2

Part 3 based on this request:

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Word Count: 1.9k

Hey everyone! Due to popular demand, here is part 3! This part is more angsty and is heavily inspired by my personal anthem 'The Bolter' by Taylor Swift (she really is my muse these days lol)

I hope you enjoy!

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You wake up the next morning with sunlight streaming through the windows and a warm blonde cuddled into your neck. Paige is close, so close to you, and you can feel the tangled mess of the both of your legs underneath the blankets.

It feels a little too perfect, and before you can begin to enjoy Paige’s sleepy affection, a wave of anxiety washes over you. It envelops you; a dark hood pulled over your head and blinding you from seeing the light that was Paige.

Your chest begins to rise and fall in staccato breaths, and your labored breathing causes Paige to stir. She sleepily looks at you with a small smile. You had always loved the way she looked in the morning; her hair splayed over the pillows and her warmth beckoning to you, threatening to keep you in bed forever.

Her voice is still husky with sleep, and it rouses you from your slumberous contemplations. “Mornin’ baby.”

Hiding your blush in the soft blankets, you reply back shyly, “Hi, P.” Her gaze is heated, and it makes every nerve light up with warning signs. The whole situation was paradoxical, and you found yourself wanting to swim in her presence and run for the hills, simultaneously.

Fighting the urge to jump from the bed and leave without turning back, you snuggle back into Paige’s arms, eliciting content moans from the both of you.

You stay like that for a while, until a loud grumble from Paige’s stomach cuts through the silence, causing you both to giggle.

You stumble out of Paige’s bed, reluctant to leave the cocoon of safety and warmth, in search of breakfast. You both sit at the small kitchen table with bagels in front of you, slightly overlooked in favor of your phones. You are scrolling Twitter, while Paige is on tiktok, and you periodically show each other if you see something particularly funny. The public is going wild over your little display at the bar last night. There are already edits galore, and it fucking terrifies you.

Paige’s eyes are glued to the screen of her phone, and her stony face gives you no glimpse of what she is actually thinking. Until you see her bite her bottom lip, and she darts her tongue out to swipe across it. It brings some blood to your cheeks, and your head feels fuzzy. 12 hours ago you were the one sinking your teeth into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip, and here you sat across from her, wondering if you’d ever be able to again.

The questions in your mind have you wanting to bound away once more, and you grip the edge of the table in a feeble attempt at grounding yourself back to reality. You didn't think you’d ever even have a chance to be anything more than friends with Paige. And here you were eating breakfast with her after kissing her and cuddling in her bed.

You were so fucked.

You replay the last few days in your head once more. You knew this whole thing was such a bad idea, but you really could not help yourself. Clearly, or you wouldn’t be sitting across from Paige right now.

Trying to pacify your bubbling panic, you ask to see Paige’s phone, wanting to see what the fuss was about. She smirks as she hands it to you, fingers brushing against yours with a kind of sheer electricity you had never felt with anyone else. You shudder at the contact, hoping to blame it on the chill of her slim fingers.

Avoiding her eye contact and glancing down at the screen, you see video upon video of the kiss, backed with sensual music that has your heart pounding.

“Oh, my gosh,” you mutter, embarrassed at the amount of views and comments all of the tiktoks had. The bar was not quite as dark as you remembered, giving the cameras of the onlookers the perfect view of your little make-out session.

You watch yourself kiss Paige a second time, forgetting that the aforementioned blonde was sitting right in front of you. It was your turn to bite your own bottom lip at the sultry music playing, eyes still glued to the way Paige had one hand loosely resting against your throat and the other on your jaw. Your hands were on her waist, pulling her closer and closer into you.

She would never be close enough.

Paige clears her throat, breaking you out of the trance from watching that damn kiss. “I think it was pretty believable, huh?”

It was hard to hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. “Um, yeah. I think so…Listen I’m glad I could help you and Az, but I gotta go.”

Paige’s face is shocked at your sudden excuse, and before she can even attempt to stop you from fleeing, you are already running around gathering up your clothes from last night.

“I’ll return your sweats after I wash ‘em,” you mumble, already halfway out the door. The door closes with a slam, and then nothing but silence. Paige looks around, her beautiful features twisted in a look halfway between stunned and horrified.

What had she done?

Little did she know that you were a bolter.

‘The bolter’ was fondly coined to you by your friends. You had craved a real, all-consuming love for many years, but everyone always left. So you learned to leave first. You kept your hopes low, thus ensuring no one could get them up and leave you shattered. And here you were drowning in Paige, and she had all the power over you. And you hated that.

Walking back to your dorm, you vowed to avoid the blonde until your emotions were fully in check; you needed your “ice queen” persona back. You knew it’d be difficult considering your job was to chronicle her life, but you were really fucking stubborn.

You refused to let your intimacy issues and your deep-rooted fear of being hurt ruin Paige’s lively disposition.

You spend the next several days engulfing yourself in schoolwork and your media job. Paige reaches out to you several times, but she gets left on read, causing a pang of guilt to shoot through you. You knew it was for the best.

But was it really?

You are pulled out of your thoughts a few evenings after leaving Paige by a pounding at your door. Your phone was open to tik tok once more, the images of you and Paige kissing had been like a drug to you; it was getting impossible to avoid.

With an exasperated huff, you drag yourself off of your chair to open the door, and you are greeted with the harsh expressions of Nika and Azzi.

Fuck.

Before you can even attempt to settle their apparent fury, the two girls are barging into your room, gesturing to you to take a seat. Reluctantly doing so, in an effort to avoid pissing them off even more, you look up at them and wait for the diatribe to follow.

Shockingly, it doesn't come. As you study their faces, they morph into genuine looks of hurt and disappointment. Somehow, that makes you feel worse.

Azzi starts. “You want to explain to us why you’re ignoring Paige all of a sudden?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…” you trail off.

Lies. Such lies.

You take a beat to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I don’t want to hurt her. But I can’t let myself get hurt either.”

Nika scoffs indignantly. “Please, Paige would never hurt you. We all know that.”

“I don’t know that,” you stress. “It’s killing me to think that I’m upsetting her, but it’s for the best. I’m terrible in relationships. The lines were already too blurry. I just drew the line in the sand before anything else could happen.”

Azzi flashes her puppy dog eyes at the hurt in your voice, and wraps a comforting arm around you.

“Life is too short to mourn something that’s still living,” she says wisely. “You’re missing out on a lot of happiness with that mindset.”

You knew there was some truth to her words, and taking a deep breath, you promised to reach out to Paige once your thoughts were in order.

Feeling satisfied with your answer, Nika and Azzi left, but not without several threats. You couldn’t fuck this up this time.

Abandoning every instinct inside your body, you make the familiar trek back to Paige’s apartment. Your mind was racing, trying to find the words to the feelings that had been consuming you for an endless amount of time. Your legs carry you until you stop in front of the same door you had hurried out of a few days prior. A hand reaches up to knock, defiantly separating you from the dread that was attempting to stop you.

A few seconds pass, and you hold in a shaky breath in the anticipation of seeing your beautiful Paige once more. The door cracks open hesitantly, her blue eyes peering around the edge of it. Your heart breaks once your eyes are finally able to fully feast upon her features. She looks absolutely ruined. Her usually bright face was broken and expressionless, and it was hard to miss the darkness under her eyes.

Tears spring to your eyes at her misery, and you immediately pull her into a hug.

“I’m so fucking sorry, P. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” The apologies fall out of your mouth like an incantation, desperate to fix your mess.

Paige sniffles into your hair, and you want to fall apart once more. Moving your hands to her face, you wipe away the tears that had already fallen, silently vowing to never make her cry again.

“What did I do?” she asks quietly, feeling humiliated that you had seen her in such a vulnerable state.

“Nothing except give me the best kiss of my life. And I got scared. And when I’m scared, I run,” you whisper, still cradling her head in your small, shaking hands.

“I messed up, not you. My feelings started consuming me, and I was so worried that once we didn’t have to pretend to date anymore, I would fall apart. Because I need you. I need you, Paige, and that fucking scares me.”

You were being verbose at this point, hoping you could convince her.

Paige finally looks at you, her eyes rimmed with red, and whispers “I need you, too.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, and pulled her back into you once more, stroking her hair.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, soaking in each other’s presence that had been missed by the both of you. Once yours and Paige’s faces have dried up, and you are swaddled into her warm embrace again, you look up at her with a small smile on your face.

“You think we could kiss like that again?”

Paige just grins in response and pulls you in.

She was never letting you leave again, and you were no longer going to be the bolter.

Ta-da! What do we think? Should I write a part 4?

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x you #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #friends to lovers #fake dating #paige #angst #the bolter

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ourstaturestouchtheskies · 1 month

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The Tortured Poets Department (Art History Version) – The Complete Collection

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indeliblescarspivotalmarks · 3 months

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If the symbol of “The Bolter” is a hare running then I think this could be important.

In folklore, farmers would burn the stubble fo their crops in the fields to regenerate the earth into spring, and hares would often be seen to run into the flames, yet not be burned and be reborn. Hares are a symbol of rebirth.

This album is Taylor running headfirst into the flames that burnt down her relationship, tackling them head on and walking away reborn🤍

Just remember. She burnt down the Lover House.

#if this could be a thing #it really could be #thinking like a tortured poet #why would she choose a hare of all things #the tortured poets department #swiftie #taylor swift #taylorswift #taylor #ts #taylor swift eras #taylornation #the eras tour #eras tour #lover house burning #the hare #the bolter #ttpd

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sombrewoodlandfairy · 2 months

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the tortured poets department wallpapers

part 1 | part 2

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months

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The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #the avengers #mcu #bucky barnes #the bolter

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