itshxunted:

If she had paid attention to the dumb “real” ghost shows that her roommate watch, Carol might have been more aware that the sudden rising aggravation at Llewyn was not entirely his fault. Or her’s. That sometimes entities fed and increased negative feelings was not in her realm of knowledge. Too bad.

It would explained the clenching of her chest at just hearing his voice.

“And just what would we talk about? How it’s my fault we’re stuck here? How I made you come even though you didn’t want to? Or, maybe, how I can’t take no for an answer? Pick a subject, Llewyn. I implore you.”

( ♬ )       —– Alright, Llewyn said some shitty things, but all of this seems a little harsh. Carol seems – different. Off. He doesn’t quite know what to say. "I’m – I didn’t say any of that. I wouldn’t have wanted you to go alone. But I’m starting to think I should fuck off and let you finish this on your own. I’m making it worse.”

ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪᴛ’s sᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ғᴜᴢᴢʏ || ʟʟᴇᴡʏɴ & ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ

itshxunted:

To be quite honest, she doesn’t expect an explanation. Even if she feels like she deserves one, she’d ask him fully later. Later, when she doesn’t feel like she’s falling apart. Which is a combination of injuries, pain killers, and the still floating in her system alcohol. But, when he starts to talk, she can’t look away.

A little part of her wishes he would have waited until later, until she was more together to do this, but that little part of her somehow knew that this wouldn’t have happened if he waited until later. But her lips purse together as he speaks, not as a full reaction to what he’s saying—but more to keep her emotions in check. She never lost that control in front of people. Even him. The closest she ever got was when Steve died. And even then, she was in control until she was a l o n e.

But it was so hard, this time.

It was right when he said ‘I need you’ that any semblence of retaining control left. A hand (the one that wasn’t broken) shot up to her mouth, pressing against it as hard as she could manage to muffle the almost-sob that accompanied the sudden onslaught of tears. Honestly, she wants to scream at him, but all the energy for that has gone into crying. (And she’d much rather scream.)

“Don’t….” She took a deep breath, giving up on fighting the tears (it was a losing battle) and moved her hand away from her mouth. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Her eyes were closed for the most of the time she was talking, but for this, she looked over to him. “I need you, you selfish shit. Did that ever occur to you? That the only thing keeping me together, keeping my shit together, was you? That—fuck…” She had to stop talking, head tilting backwards against the pillow as a low hiss of pain escaped her lips.

"Remind me before I get into bar fights to make sure they don’t have fucking guns. Jesus fuck.”

It breaks Llewyn’s heart, to see her like this. To watch her cry and hurt and – she looks so small in that hospital bed. She’s close enough to touch, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to do so. That’s something he might have to earn back. The fact that he’s talking to her, that he’s this close – it’s enough to keep him grounded for the time being. 

And now Carol is saying things that strip Llewyn of his self control. ‘I need you’ and every word that follows knocks the wind out of him like punches to the gut, and he is desperate, now, to be in Carol’s tiny-but-somehow-too-big hospital bed with her. As always, he tries to kill the desire with something else; something darker. ’You did this’ comes to mind. ’You are a selfish shit’ is trailing right behind it. The pounding in his head is suddenly uncomfortably obvious, but a distraction, at least.

"You need me,” he repeats, more for himself than Carol. His breath hitches painfully in his throat and he leans back in the chair again. Further away. Safer. Won’t touch. “You need me and I haven’t – I haven’t—-” He won’t remind her how little he’s worth. He won’t push her away again. He can’t undo the damage he’s caused, but he can start trying to be better. He’s not going to put it off until next Monday like he does with diets and doctor’s appointments; this happens now.

“This isn’t going to happen again,” he says quietly, secretly hoping she won’t hear. “This is the last time I push. Whatever happens to us – happens to us. I’m not going to force it anymore.” Fuck, this would be easier if he could be holding her hand. He doesn’t know what to do with his. “I’ve had my run with the selfish shit. I’ve been doing it for 85 fucking years. I'm sorry.” He pauses, bites his split lip, hesitates. “I’m yours and I want to be.”

youbetyourstarspangledbutt:

His response made her physically recoil a little and she almost dropped her hand. And her entire body tensed up, lips pursing tight and chin jutting upwards. If he wanted to be like that, fine. She’d quit her reassurances and let him deal with it on his own. Fine with her. But, he grabbed her hand and apologized before she could pull away and for a moment, Carol didn’t say anything.

“Fine.” With that said, she turned and started walking out of the welcome area, deeper into the facility. Though, she said little else.

( ♬ )       He’s too spooked to take a moment and try to make her feel better. If they stop walking and start talking, they might not notice, you know, ghosts and shit. Carol needs to get this assignment done and the two of them have to get the fuck out of here. “I didn’t mean to snap,” he offers, in lieu of the long, genuine apology they both know he’s capable of (only with her). That’ll come later. “Please don’t stop talking to me.”

itshxunted:

“Wait—first you’re upset that he’s coming, and now you’re going to break up with me if he’s not there?” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Make up your mind, Lou. You’re breaking my heart here.” Moving to lace her fingers through his, she squeezed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Stop complaining. Would you rather sit at home alone?”

( ♬ )       "Absolutely,“ he answers, no hesitation. "Yes, 100%, I would rather sit at home alone.” Llewyn squeezes her hand in return and heaves out a sigh. “I wish I didn’t like you so goddamn much.”

itshxunted:

“Yes, like Rogers. And like Captain America. And it is the Avengers Halloween Party. He’s an Avenger. Of course he’s coming.” And of course, she doesn’t let him stop, just gently tugging him along. Of course, she MIGHT be enjoying teasing him a little too much. “Please? For me?”

( ♬ )       "If you’re lying, I’m breaking up with you.“ It scares him that he’s only half-joking. He looks down at himself and his ridiculous costume, and then over at Carol with a light scoff. She gets to look perfect, and he gets to look like a goddamn moron. "I can’t believe I agreed to this. I bet it’s non-smoking, too.”

itshxunted:

“Calm down. Want to know something? At least 75% of the Avengers classify as assholes. In fact, Tony Stark could give you a run for your money. So, can it.” Carol rolled her eyes before linking her arm through his and pulling him along. There was no way he was getting out of this and she was making sure he knew this. “Besides—Steve wants to meet you.”

( ♬ )       That just about stops him in his tracks. “Steve? St– As in Rogers?” No – no. The first time he sees Captain America in person will not also be the first time he’s sporting a porn-worthy mustache and Lando Calrissian’s cape. “You didn’t tell me he was coming. He wants to meet me? He didn’t say that.”

• itshxunted

( ♬ )       "They won’t like me, you know.“ His costume is itchy. He should have spent more money instead of jumping on the cheapest offer he could find. Old habits. At least he got to grow the mustache himself. "You think they’ll like me because you’re biased. Word gets around – they probably already know I’m an asshole through SHIELD.” He stops, itches, and then rubs at the part of his face that used to have a beard on it.

“Fuck. Maybe you should turn around and drop me off at my place. This was a bad idea. I’m gonna make you look bad.”

itshxunted:

                                                        ——{ ✦ }——

“You definitely do not know that,” she replied softly, but leans into his touch anyway. She ignores the second statement. Not because she doesn’t believe him, but because acknowledging it would just lead her down that thought process faster. “I don’t think we’re going to get to come back from this. I don’t think it’s ever going to stop.”

( ♬ )       "What if we pretended that I knew that? Wouldn’t that help a little?“ He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, gentle and sweet. "How is it that I’m the optimistic one here?”