#becca writes spice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morallyinept · 6 months

Text

HAPPY SUNDAY LOVELIES! 🖤

Well after the craziness of last week, I've been back to work, and it still feels bloody crazy! I've managed to squeeze in some reading this week, but it never feels like enough. I want more time, damnit! 🥵

Anyhoo, let's crack that whip Jack, and get into this week's whip round. Yeehaw! 🤠

Catch up on last week here, sugar

☆ Things I've posted this week

Five Days Chapter 6 - We're halfway through this angsty, romance Joel story now, and I'm so glad those who are reading this are enjoying it. Warms the cockles of my little heart it does, to read all your comments. Thank you so much! 🖤

Unworthy - A Javier Pena GIFLET

Domestic Spice - A Marcus Moreno GIFLET

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales, Dark!Joel Miller & Dark!Dave York one shot for Halloween. This is my first time writing anything remotely dark, (although I felt it was pretty tame in comparison with some other dark fics I've read and enjoyed) and I'm completely floored by the positive responses to this story. Thank you to everyone who read it on Halloween, and who has enjoyed it since. 🎃

This week's Self-Care with Dieter & Jett looked at bullying and how you can deal with bullies, and avoid inadvertently becoming one yourself.

And this week's Writer Wow shone the spotlight on the wonderfully talented - and equally wonderful person - that is @boliv-jenta Go give them some love.⭐️

☆ Things I'm currently working on

Writing some more Christmas fics, have a bunch of GIFLETS lined up as always, and working on some one shots featuring Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike and Dave York.

I'm also getting soooo many ideas that my Google docs is a chaotic mess that I really need to put some order into. 🥴

☆ Things I've read this week

Head Shots - Chapter 4 - @secretelephanttattoo Everything about this series is so sweet and romantic, and has the perfect Marcus Pike in my opinion. I love how El perfectly places you, as the reader, in the scene so that you can literally see, hear and feel everything, and she manages to do it wonderfully. You must read this if you're an Agent Pike fan. Or any Pedro Boy fan, just read it. Thank me later. 🫠

Steep Is The Mountain - @sin-djarin Becca's Tim Rockford is just exquisite. Sexy, gruff, gun holsters... what more do you want from this handsome detective? I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and will deffo be re-visiting this when I have more hankerings for Rockford. The descriptives in this were utterly divine, and not just the smut. (Although that was scorching!) 🔥

The Haunting Of Dieter Bravo - @idolatrybarbie I have so many Halloween fics to catch up on, and reading this one was an absolute delight. I love how original and captivating this was, yet contained all the creep and dread that you want. And Dieter being Dieter, even though he's clearly spooked. This was a great read and I deffo recommend adding to your read list. Utterly spook-tacular! 👻

The Clink - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Let me tell you, if they had PrisonGuard!Javi P in prison, I think I would deliberately commit crimes to be locked up with him... This was hot AF. Damn hot, and in true Angela style, she captures the essence of that hotness and locks you up tight in it. Oof! 🥵

Juniper - @softlyspector This was an incredibly vivid read of Joel helping you get to sleep, in the only way Mr Miller can. And it was just delicious. I'm still thinking about this one, it's seared in my brain. 🫠

Hey There, City Boy - @sweetenerobert I had a fun cameo in Robert's Halloween Ghostface!Joel fic, and I'm still cackling about it now! Thank you, friend. The story was brilliantly hot and had that familial dread we've all come to know and love from the Scream franchise. And the smut was hella smutting for sure. Spooky Joel shenanigans aplenty! 🖤

Anytime - @undercoverpena Oh, I just fell in love with Javi P even more after reading this. Jo's romantic, friends-to-lovers story here is just beautiful! I urge you to read it because I am still drowning in my feels about it. 🥰

A shout out to lovely @beabliss who has been putting together some hot "things he'd say to you" drabbles. Some of my favourite's have been Marcus Pike & Javier Pena - super hot! Although all the one's she's released so far have been amazing to read, and inspiring too. 🥵

Also want to throw a nod and some love to @wildemaven who has been creating some of the most stunning mood boards I've seen. Again, so inspiring and creative, and some of my favourites so far have been Dieter Hosting SNL, Jackson Librarian Reunites With An Old Lover & Halloween with Dave & The Girls. But honestly, I could favour them all, they're incredible. 🖤

All these amazing fics will be added to my Pedro Character Fic Rec List when I update it next too. I've also created a Kinktober Specific Rec List now from this year, and current years gone by. So many amazing writers have contributed to this yearly theme, and the stories are incredible. Please go check them out. 🫶

☆ What have I been watching/listening to this week?

Blink 182 dropped a new album this week! And I've had it on repeat - A LOT! Growing up they were one of my favourite bands, and I've seen them live too, which was just incredible.

This new album is reminiscent in some ways of their old sound, with punchy anthems, but has some of those grown-up style ballads, similar to their album Neighbourhoods, dotted in there too, and I love it. It's been giving me embryo punk-rock Jett vibes from my college youth. And I'm still in love with Mark Hoppus to this day... 🥰

Some of my favorites from the album are Fell In Love, Terrified, One More Time & Edging.

☆ What have I been up to this week?

I went back to work this week, which was a shock to the system after a week of lay ins and writing a lot. 🥴 Feels like I've hardly done any writing at all this week.

I went out with my mom for lunch and a spot of shopping on Saturday, which was lovely, and I hung with my friends this week too for a belated birthday movie night - I was graced with a Pedro Pascal air freshener for my car... if I crash into a ditch, you'll know why! 😉

C'mon Jack, let's line dance outta here, cowboy!

That wraps it up for this week's whip round. I hope you've all had a good week and enjoy the remainder of the weekend.

Once again, thanks to everyone who sent Asks and left DM's. You guys rock! 🤘🏻

Stay kind, stay creamy. 🖤

🖤

#jett's weekly whip round #agent jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey kingsman #agent jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's fic recs #jett's writing #Spotify

41 notes · View notes

formulauno98 · 9 months

Text

A Birthday to Remember

My first attempt at a one-shot, based on this glorious request from @latte-luxe:

If you can, could you please write a short, but spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️ one shot of a young, crazy, yet loveable 5'2 Maestra who is celebrating her 30th birthday in Monaco, and a certain 6'5 F1 team principal laid eyes on her and knew he just had to have her. 😅😅😅🙏🙏🙏

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Caution may contain spice.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

THE MORNING

It was Saturday morning and stepping out onto her balcony at the Fairmont Monte Carlo, Fernanda swept her eyes over the spectacular view. It was a pinch yourself to check if you’re dreaming kind of view of sparkling blue waters, peppered every so often with a gleaming white yacht.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” murmured a husky, heavily accented voice from behind her. Before she even had the chance to turn around, a pair of muscular arms swooped around her from behind before coming to rest on her hips, gently squeezing her curves.

“Good morning to you too,” she said, turning around and leaning up to kiss the tall towel-clad Austrian, resting her hand on his bare chest as he pressed himself tightly against her. It was yet another pinch me I’m dreaming moment. If someone had told Fernanda this time yesterday that this was how she would be spending her Saturday morning she would have laughed and called them crazy, but sometimes life could be crazy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

It was a sunny evening and Fernanda had stood out on the balcony with a glass of wine in her hand, admiring the view whilst waiting for her three best friends to get ready. As a lifelong Formula One lover, a weekend trip to Monaco had been on the cards for a while so when her friends asked where she wanted to go to celebrate her thirtieth birthday it was at the top of the list. Turning the dream into reality was another thing altogether and she still couldn’t believe that the trip had materialised.

Dinner was due to be lowkey as Saturday was going to be the big night out, with dinner plans at Elsa, a Michelin-star establishment, followed by a night on the tiles at Jimmyz, a club frequented by the world of Formula One. Friday night’s restaurant of choice was Song Qi, an upscale Chinese restaurant in Larvotto that had come highly recommended.

“Fernanda, how long is the walk?” A voice called out from the suite.

“About five/ten minutes.” She replied, sighing, as always the mom of the group.

“Medium heels it is then,” her friend Olivia replied.

“We can always get a car,” Fernanda suggested.

“No, let’s conserve the taxi budget for tomorrow night,” Olivia said, stepping out onto the balcony to

accompany her friend, “Laura and Becca are almost ready.”

“Good idea,” Fernanda replied, “You look gorgeous by the way.”

Olivia beamed with the compliment, stepping back to twirl in her pink minidress and sparkling sandals, “I try my best, although I can’t compete with you, my spicy little Salma Hayek twin.”

Fernanda blushed, everyone always compared her to the diminutive Mexican actress and truth be told, it wasn’t the worst comparison in the world. She’d chosen a simple white dress with gold sandals for the evening’s dinner, perhaps a risky move in a restaurant serving noodles but she felt fabulous. Her dark hair was slicked back into an elegant bun and she’d highlighted her tanned skin with golden shimmering oil, a move that always brought the compliments.

It wasn’t long before Laura and Becca also emerged, both looking as beautiful as ever. The four friends had treated themselves to two adjoining suites and opened up the connecting door to create a mega-suite.

“Oh la la, give us a twirl,” said Fernanda, looking her elegant friend up and down as she dutifully spun around.

“Beautiful!” Now it was Laura and Becca’s turn to blush. “Ditto! Shall we get going?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Fernanda agreed, the four of them making their way off of the balcony.

——

Song Qi turned out to be an excellent choice, with the table weighed down with baskets of dim sum and bowls of noodles, crispy beef and endless wontons. The restaurant was decadent but comfortable and as Fernanda sank back into her sumptuous green velvet chair she spotted a strangely familiar face at the table across from them. He was dark-haired, handsome with chiselled features and although he was sat down, tall, as he towered above the two men he was dining with.

It took a moment to realise that it was none other than Toto Wolff, the affable Mercedes Formula One team principal. Although she thought it was only for a moment, Fernanda must have stared for a while as he briefly met her eyes and shot her a charming smile. Smiling back like a fool, her friends whipped their heads around to see who their friend was smiling at, fortunately, Toto not noticing as he had returned to his plate.

“Damn girl, he’s kinda hot, in that old businessman kind of way,” said Olivia, turning back around to face Fernanda.

“Well yes…” Fernanda stuttered, “He’s also one of the team principals in Formula One.”

“Huh?” Asked her three friends blankly, not followers of the sport.

“Kind of like the equivalent of a football manager,” Fernanda explained, “Except he owns some of the team as well.”

“Fancy, well he’s pretty. You should go and talk to him.” Said Laura, all formula one facts going straight over her head.

“Oh my god, no,” Fernanda said, “I’m sure he was just being polite.”

As if on cue, Toto looked up and locked eyes with her once again, his deep brown eyes crinkling. Fernanda gulped, returning his gaze with a smile once again.

Dinner continued, with the girls chatting away as Fernanda every so often met Toto’s eyes across the crowded restaurant. He looked to be in some kind of business meeting as the two men with him were dressed smartly and looked serious while conversing with them.

It wasn’t long before dinner had been cleared and a smiling waiter emerged with a chocolate cake laden down with a sparkler and a golden thirty-number candle, Olivia, Becca and Laura looking at each other mischievously before breaking into a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song. Fernanda felt her cheeks reddening as she realised the entire restaurant, including Toto and his business associates had joined in the song. As she blew out the candle, she once again locked eyes with Toto who was grinning away while applauding.

“You guys are the worst,” Fernanda said, half joking as she shook her head at her friends. “But that’s why I love you.”

“Aw, well we had to do something,” said Laura, “It’s not every day you have a big birthday like this and although I still don’t understand why you love your car racing so much, I’m happy that we came here.”

Fernanda smiled at her friends, she was appreciative of them, enabling her desire to walk around the Formula One track and visit the car museum, despite the fact they really weren’t interested. Just as she was musing how ironic it was that she’d seen Toto Wolff, their waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks.

“Oh, I don’t think we ordered those,” said Olivia politely.

“Yes Madame, in fact, the gentlemen over there sent them alongside their birthday wishes.” The waiter replied.

Fernanda’s eyes widened, Toto Wolff had sent her birthday wishes. An interesting turn of events.

“Well, then that’s very nice of them,” said Olivia, as the waiter set them down, “Fernanda, you should go and say thank you!”

“Oh my God, yes, go!” Said Becca, egging her friend on.

Sighing, but also buoyed by her friends’ enthusiasm, Fernanda spoke, “I’m going to go but only to say thank you.”

Her three friends squealing with excitement, Fernanda took an extra sip of her drink for courage before standing up and sauntering over to where Toto and his associates sat. His interest piqued immediately as he noticed her making her way across the restaurant.

“Good evening, sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say thank you for the drinks, it was very kind of you,” Fernanda said, a little too quickly due to nerves.

“Well, it’s not every day you celebrate a milestone like that.” Replied Toto kindly, standing up to hold out a hand to shake, “I’m Toto by the way, and this is Jean and Sebastian,” he gestured at the older gentlemen he was dining with.

Struck by the almost comical height difference Fernanda looked up at the tall Austrian in front of her as he gripped her hand very tightly, “I’m Fernanda, nice to meet you all.”

The other gentlemen smiled at her politely, wishing her a happy birthday before picking their conversation back up. Toto, however, remained stood up, his eyes raking her curves. “Fernanda?” He asked, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Now Fernanda was really blushing, “You’re far too kind.”

“Not at all,” he said, “I hope you do not think this forward but would you like to join me for dinner one evening?”

Fernanda’s eyes widened, floored that this man was asking her out. “I would love to but unfortunately I’m only here until Sunday so I’m not sure if I’ll have time.”

Toto looked disappointed but pressed further, “Well then, how about a drink later this evening?”

Fernanda’s eyes went even wider before she managed to answer, “I’m not sure, it’s a girl's trip and I don’t want to ditch my friends, I really would love to though. Maybe can I get your number and text you once I’ve figured out their plans?”

“Understood,” replied Toto, looking down, gazing into her eyes with an unreadable expression, “It would be my pleasure, give me your phone.”

Fernanda’s eyes lit up as she handed her phone to the tall Austrian in front of her who deftly punched in his contact. “Thank you, I’ll check in with the girls and let you know. I’ll leave you to your dinner for now but I hope to see you later,” she said with a smile.

Toto turned to glance at his dining companions who were still deep in conversation, and dropped closer down to Fernanda’s ear, keeping his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine, “It’s okay, I don’t think they missed me. I hope to see you later too Fernanda.”

Fernanda looked up at Toto with a smile, “I’m sure they did. See you, Toto.” As she turned back towards her table she glanced over her shoulder and saw Toto’s eyes were locked on her as he returned to his seat. He was undeniably hot and as much as she always abided by the golden rule, chicks before dicks, this was special circumstances.

Sitting back down with her friends, they immediately leaned in to get the lowdown.

“What did he say? He didn’t take his eyes off of you!” said Laura excitedly.

“Just wished me a happy birthday… and asked me out,” said Fernanda blushing.

“No way!” exclaimed her three friends in unison.

“You’re going to go right?” said Olivia, looking at her friend in concern.

“I’m not sure.” said Fernanda, “I don’t want to ditch you all for a man but equally he’s hot as fuck and it would only be for an hour or so.”

“An hour or so?” said Becca, raising her eyebrows, “I doubt this, but you should go, make it a memorable birthday!”

Fernanda looked over once again at where Toto sat, he was a striking man, pushing all of his success to one side. “What the hell, I’ll message him now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Her friends squealed with excitement in unison.

Fernanda grabbed her phone and nervously began typing her message to Toto.

It’s all good for tonight, we’re almost done eating so I’m free whenever you are.

She could see Toto excuse himself and take out his phone, shooting her a grin from across the restaurant before looking down to type a response.

Sure enough, Fernanda’s phone buzzed.

Perfect, so are we. Shall I meet you outside in ten minutes?

Fernanda replied excitedly, still not believing she was texting Toto Wolff of all people.

Sounds like a plan.

——

Fernanda was nervous but excited as she saw Toto and his associates pay their bill and head off, Toto shooting her a wink as he jostled his way out of the restaurant.

Settling their own bill, Fernanda and her friends were close behind and as she exited the restaurant, sure enough, she saw Toto standing outside waiting for her, leaning casually up against a column.

Bidding her friends goodbye, she made her way towards her date for the evening. “Hi,” she said somewhat awkwardly, knowing that her friends were likely watching from where they were ordering a taxi to return them to their hotel.

“Hi,” he said, glancing down at her fondly, “How was your dinner?”

“So good!” she said, “How was yours?”

“It was okay, my dining companions weren’t as lovely as you but I think my evening is improving,” he said with a rakish grin.

Fernanda smiled, “You’re a charmer, Toto. Where were you thinking of heading?”

“I know a place a few streets behind, it’s not so fancy but they have an excellent selection of wine if you like it?”

Knowing that she was already a little tipsy, Fernanda was grateful he’d suggested wine, “Sounds good to me, lead the way, Mr Wolff!”

Toto whipped his head around, “I never told you my surname.”

Feeling she’d made a huge error of judgement, Fernanda stuttered, his dark eyes intimidating her before she decided the best course of action was to fess up, “Well it took me a moment but I recognised you. Guilty as charged.”

Musing quietly, Toto’s expression softened, “So you know a little about me, tell me about yourself.”

As the pair made their way around the twisting streets towards the bar, Fernanda filled Toto in on her background, her career as a teacher and her plans for the weekend.

Soon enough they arrived at their destination, Toto, taking the lead and speaking with the Maitre D’ who promptly led them to a secluded table towards the back of the bar.

Settling down on the chair opposite Toto, Fernanda was suddenly much more nervous.

“You look nervous,” Toto said, his eyes kind.

“Well, this is not how I thought my evening was going to pan out. The ruse is up in that I recognised you so I may as well tell you that we came to Monaco because I love Formula One.” Fernanda blushed furiously as her words tangled into one.

“Relax Fernanda, so you know about formula one?” he said, reaching across the table, taking her hand in his and tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

“Well, probably not as much as you.” Fernanda laughed, breaking the tension and gazing into his eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” said Toto shrugging with a smirk. “I just got lucky.”

——

As the evening went on, the pair discussed everything under the sun, the wine helping Fernanda to feel less awkward and forget who she was talking to. Toto was funnier than she expected and she spent half the evening giggling at his stupid remarks. He’d regaled her with stories of his travel adventures, driving mishaps and various other anecdotes, whilst she’d filled him in with her tales of teaching and embarrassing childhood moments. They’d bonded over their love of all things with an engine and time had flown by.

“Ahem.” Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a waiter, “Monsieur, Madame, I am sorry to say that we are closing in ten minutes. Can I take one last order?”

Knowing she was well beyond tipsy, Fernanda shook her head, looking at Toto to check if he was in agreement. Looking somewhat bleary-eyed himself he shook his head as well, “Just the bill please.”

Soon enough the cheque had been settled and Fernanda found herself once again wandering the moonlit streets of Monaco with Toto, this time her hand firmly encased in his.

“Where do you need to go?” Toto asked kindly, “I can drop you back.”

“I’m staying at the Fairmont,” Fernanda replied, not wanting the night to end.

“It’s not so far, are you happy to walk?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

“Sure, it’s just up there,” she replied gesturing at the bend in the road where the hotel was perched, “As long as you can get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Toto, a dark look in his eye. “Fernanda, when do you leave again?”

“Sunday afternoon,” she said sadly, wishing she was staying for longer.

“Well, you’ll have to come back next year for the Grand Prix,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe if I rob a bank!” she said with a chuckle, “One day.”

“I don’t like to boast, but I might know someone who can get you in without having to resort to organised crime,” he said, laughing with a deep rumble.

“Oh really?” Fernanda said, turning to face Toto in the inky moonlight, “Is he nice?”

“Very,” said Toto, dropping Fernanda’s hand and placing his hands on either side of her waist, swaying slightly in his merry state.

Laughing, Fernanda stretched up to look Toto in the eye, “I’ll have to meet this guy, he sounds great.”

At that their lips met, Toto bending down to plant a soft kiss on Fernanda’s lips, their height difference making it slightly a challenge but one that neither party seemed bothered by. As the kiss deepened, Toto began to run his hands down towards Fernanda’s perfectly rounded ass, squeezing gently as he found her curves.

Breaking apart for air, Fernanda glanced around, luckily there was no one in the empty street but she didn’t want to risk being caught making out in the street with a famous face and it being splashed across the tacky tabloids.

“Do you fancy a nightcap at mine?” she asked, looking up at Toto through her fluffy long lashes.

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Well, I have heard the view is nice.”

Fernanda laughed, grabbing Toto’s hand once again and leading him towards the corner entrance to her hotel. As they crossed the lobby she had a sudden panic that her friend Olivia was in their room, and as they made it into the elevator, sent a frantic text knowing her friends would still be awake, waiting for her post-date debrief.

Red alert, I’m bringing him back, please can you vacate?

Sure enough, the replies came back instantaneously.

Oh la la of course birthday girl!

Get it girl!

Knew it!!!!!

Smiling as Toto rested his hand on the small of her back in the elevator, Fernanda looked up at him before he once again swooped down to catch her lips with his.

The elevator dinged before things could get too heated but it didn’t stop Toto wrapping his arm tightly around Fernanda’s waist as the pair stumbled towards her room.

“Here we are,” she said, scrambling to find her keycard in her bag before popping open the door to unveil her suite. Thankfully her friends must have tidied for her as the detritus from getting ready for the evening was nowhere to be seen.

“Nice,” said Toto before bending down once again to continue kissing her, turning her around to face him as she closed the door. Pressing her against the wall with his leg, he continued to deepen the kiss, his hands starting to explore more of her body.

“As soon as I saw you I knew I had to have you,” he said, his lips resting against her ear, his deep Austrian accent rumbling.

Fernanda gulped, she never would have thought it but his voice roused something deep within. Her lips stretching up and finding the crevice of his neck, she replied in a low voice, “Then have me.”

Toto needed no invitation, scooping her up into his arms, he carried her over to the bed, throwing her down before leaning over and continuing to kiss her, his strong arms either side of her, pinning her down.

Emboldened by his eagerness, Fernanda wrapped her legs around his thick torso, pushing herself against him, not surprised to find a growing bulge. As he ground his hips into hers, he started to explore her curves with his large hands, ghosting her breasts and waist and reaching around to caress her ass once again.

Reaching up, Fernanda started to unbutton Toto’s shirt, exposing a surprisingly muscular frame. Impatient, he leaned up and divested himself of the shirt as well as the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but boxers. Fernanda couldn’t help but smile at the view that greeted her as he once again lunged down to kiss her, this time, his hands making quick work of pulling her dress off, leaving her exposed in nothing but her lingerie and heels.

“You are ridiculous,” he said, his eyes hungry with desire, gazing into her eyes and gently kissing her neck.

“I could say the same about you,” replied Fernanda breathily, her back arching in pleasure as Toto kissed his way along her neck and across her collarbone.

Melting into each other’s arms, Fernanda began to grind back against his now prominent hardness, feeling herself getting more turned on by the second.

“Toto?” she asked, gasping for air, “Will you fuck me?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Smiling at each other, Toto reached down to unhook Fernanda’s bra, releasing her pert breasts, “Fuck, Fernanda.” he said, lifting his head to marvel at them, “Even better than I imagined.”

Fernanda blushed at his words, not used to such attention. Growing impatient she ghosted her hands down Toto’s abs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re an impatient little thing aren’t you?” he said, leaning back suddenly and hooking his arms underneath Fernanda’s legs, gripping her thighs and bringing her closer. “I want to taste you first.”

Gulping Fernanda leant back, allowing Toto to bring his mouth to where she needed it most. As his tongue lapped gently, he brought his hand along and began to stroke her clit, slowly but sensually.

It wasn’t long before Fernanda was writhing in pleasure, tugging Toto’s dark locks as he pumped a finger in and out, continuing to expertly lick.

“Toto, I want you in me,” she said, seeing stars as she was so close.

Pausing his ministrations, Toto was more than happy to oblige, kissing his way back up her torso as he replied, “I want to do everything with you.”

At that, Fernanda melted, the evening had turned into one that was beyond her wildest dreams. As Toto swiftly undressed them both, she gazed into his intense chocolate eyes as he began to line himself up, unsurprisingly intimidatingly big.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he pushed in, slowly but surely. Gasping, Fernanda shifted as she adjusted to his size. True to his word, he took it easy and entered her tantalisingly slowly, an inch at a time.

“Fuck, Toto.” she said breathily, “You’re so big.”

Smiling, he pulled back out before pushing in once more, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Not at all, it feels good,” she said, feeling pleasantly stretched in places she’d never felt before.

“Good.” he said with a grin as he began to thrust in and out lazily, continuing to kiss her.

It wasn’t long before they were a tangled mess of arms and legs, both nearing completion. “Fuck, Toto, I am so close.” said Fernanda, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Close isn’t good enough,” said Toto, smirking as he reached down and found her clit once again, his thumb circling gently as he continued to push in and out, speeding up.

“That feels so go…” Fernanda couldn’t even finish her sentence as Toto hit the sweet spot with expert precision.

“Fernanda…” was all Toto managed as he thrust in and out a few more times, chasing his own high before collapsing on top of Fernanda.

“Ooff.” said Fernanda, crushed by the weight of the muscular man on top of her.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing her a shy grin as he rolled off to lie beside her.

“Well… that was not how I expected my birthday to turn out.” said Fernanda, feeling like she was in a dream.

Toto laughed, stretching a strong arm across her stomach to pull her in for a cuddle. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left.”

Fernanda’s eyes widened once more. This was certainly a birthday to remember.

#toto wolff fanfic

77 notes · View notes

saylorsaysstop · 3 months

Text

⭐️ TOP 10 READS ⭐️

I wasn't really dabbling with the book community when I picked up reading again in September 2023 but now in January 2024, I've read 32 books (not a lot but I'm picking up speed finally!) and here are my TOP 10 reads so far on my reading journey 💘📚

Starting at #10...

#10: ICEBREAKER | Hannah Grace

This was one of the first books I read. It was also my first sports romance. I didn't think hockey would be it for me but WOWZA did Nate Hawkins change me. His and Stassie's relationship was a quick one that took my breath away. The spice? You wouldn't have convinced me of the fllth in this book when I picked it up. Honestly, the pages moaned when I opened them. Such a good read! Highly recommend. I'm currently reading WILDFIRE (Russ and Aurora's story) and cannot WAIT for Henry's book! He was my favorite side character 💘

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#9: SECRETLY YOURS | Tessa Bailey

Secretly Yours was my introduction to Tessa Bailey who has honestly become one of my top 5 authors. I love her writing style. A third person typically isn't my cup of tea, but Tessa can change you. This was a great take on a little grumpy x mega sunshine action. Julian Vos is a sucker for his girl and secretly a little freak too. Absolutely loved this! Also, I loved the secret admirer letters back and forth. So good.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️

#8: Unfortunately Yours | Tessa Bailey

This is the second book after Secretly Yours. This follows Julian's sister, Natalie, and August Cates. We meet both of these people in Secretly Yours. There's nothing I love more than a marriage of convenience trope with a little splash of enemies to lovers, but knowing that the MMC has fallen in love first. August Cates? He is a WHOLE MAN. An ex-Marine who is set to keep his late best friend's vineyard dreams alive, his and Natalie's explosive relationship is a succulent read... And in the bedroom? Well, let's just say. He makes it fit. 🔥

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

#7: ADDICTED TO YOU | Krista & Becca Ritchie

The first book in the Calloway Sisters series follows two very complicated people, Loren Hale and Lily Calloway. Best friends since childhood who both face terrible addictions (Loren is an alcoholic and Lily is a sex addict), they've been playing their families for years that they've been together. They do this so they can help others hide their addictions. But when everything blows up and each realizes the other does have a problem, everything goes south. This book had me in tears. It is emotionally tragic and I adore LiLo SO much. I've read Ricochet and am going to start the 3rd book either this month or in February... Also, you may just fall in love with Connor Cobalt. I said what I said 💗

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#6: FLAWLESS | Elsie Silver

When in doubt, remember what Big & Rich said. Save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. My first cowboy romance ever and I was hooked from the very first page. We meet Rhett Eaton, a playboy bull rider with a hatred for milk unlike no other. He needs his reputation fixed and handled. Enter Summer. The most sunshiney person you'd ever meet gives this bull rider a run for his money. And the sex? Oh wowza. It's so good.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#5: A COURT OF THORNS & ROSES | SJM

My introduction to ACOTAR started off strong. I adored Tamlin (if you know, you know) we follow Feyre Archeron and her journey. I can't say much except you need to read this. It is one of the best series I've ever read, which is why my next 4 are ACOTAR too.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️

#4: A COURT OF MIST & FURY | SJM

ahhhhhhHHHHHH. I CRIED LIKE A BABY. RHYS?? Rhys is my husband. I can't help it.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#3: A COURT OF WINGS & RUIN | SJM

I cried even harder reading this one. Again, I can't spoil it.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#2: A COURT OF SILVER FLAMES | SJM

This is by far my FAVORITE. I am a Nesta girly. Deep down, out of all the Archeron sisters, I relate to Nesta the most. And Cassian is my favorite bat boy... Gah lay. I cannot wait for Azriel's book.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

#1: HAUNTING ADELINE | H.D. CARLTON

My number one book... Is Haunting Adeline. I don't want to hear any negativity. This book changed me. I've got so many book boyfriends, but Zade Meadows beats them all. He is unstoppable. This book had me screaming at the top of my lungs and had me fighting for air. Zade had me questioning everything about myself. He is the dark boyfriend for me. I have Hunting Adeline and desperately want to read, but was trying to get through some of my TBR. I started it and cried by the third chapter so I had to put it down because I just KNOW Hunting will wreck me.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ | SPICE: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

16 notes · View notes

katnip475 · 6 months

Text

Give Me All by Becca Fogg

Wow! This book was so good. I absolutely fell in love with these characters. However Issac is my favorite! I would be happy to replace Devy! 😈

This is my first read by Becca and I am in love with her writing. I giggled through the entire book. I didn’t want to put it down. I was up way too late finishing it. Oh and the spice was…delicious! My whoremones was in overdrive! I will be moving her other books up on my TBR.

#give me all

0 notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years

Note

Giiiiirl, I am CRAVING some baking with Bucky. Like some good old recipe from his mom or sisters, eating half the batter, being all innocent and goofy. Maybe Reader introducing him to the world of cupcakes with a second batch of batter they make. Just a sweeeet baking day ❤️

I made myself happy sad with this one. XD

Might be a little more angsty than you were looking for, but all the sweet fluff is there as well!

Inspired by my own great great grandmother’s recipe.

Orange Rolls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None, just the fluffiest fluff you can imagine; slight angst.

Author’s Note: I loved doing this, so please people. Send me more requests! ALSO this is an actual family recipe of mine. I recommend trying it!

I recommend listening to this song while reading this: https://open.spotify.com/track/7pR7yPgbYcipmTUHT5g68p?si=nQZeCOmoTcm43qOI1YRPNA

***

Step 1. Dissolve 2 yeast cakes in ¼ cup warm water.

The room was alight in the glow of soft warm sun. Nestled in your blankets, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned widely, stretching and turning to snuggle into the familiar warmth of Bucky. Firm muscle, soft skin, ticklish arm hair – all missing. Instead only cool sheets, drawn back on his side of the bed. You didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but you rolled over to the bedside table to check your phone anyways. Five AM. Much too early to be up on a Sunday morning, even for your early bird of a super soldier. Rolling onto your back, you stayed quiet, attempting to hear any signs of life in the small apartment. Perhaps he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom. The sound of heavy items falling and a string of curses coming from the kitchen brushed away the thought. Jumping out of bed, you pulled one of Bucky’s large sweatshirts over your head and stepped into your slippers.

When you rounded the corner, the first thing you noticed was the expanse of your pantry laid out onto the floor. The second thing you noticed was Bucky, sat cross-legged in the middle of the array of flours, sugars, and spices, head in his hands. You knew this look. This crumpled, defeated look that so few had the privilege to witness. Everyone saw the stoic, cold Winter Soldier. So little saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Tiptoeing around the spilled bags of sugar, flour, and sprinkles, you stood beside him, leaning over and placing a gentle hand to his back, rubbing soft, slow circles.

“Nightmares?” you asked, moving your hand up to thread through his freshly cropped hair, scraping your fingernails against his scalp. Bucky tilted his head back, leaning into your touch like a cat leaving its scent. You could see the telltale signs; red rimmed eyes, pink tipped nose, raw bitten lips.

“No, no nightmares. I uh…I had a dream about my mom,” Bucky answered, the end of his sentence biting off in a short, harsh laugh. You held your breath. It flattered you that Bucky felt comfortable enough with you to share the gory, ugly details of his past – the things that kept him up at night. The things he thought you couldn’t love him for. But never had he talked about his family. The only memories of his past life you ever heard were the ones Steve brought up, the rowdy stories of two young men up to no good in 40’s Brooklyn. Yet on his own, Bucky remained silent about his life before the war. You never pushed him. It would be cruel of you to press a subject that was most likely too painful for him to think about. Now, the waver in his voice and the tears that welled in his eyes told you that that assumption had been correct.

“I was sittin’ in my old kitchen and uh—” he sniffed, taking a moment to clear his throat “—it was Easter. I know it was Easter ‘cause ma made orange rolls. She only ever made them on Easter. And it—it was the best damn orange roll I’ve ever had. I woke up and I remembered Steve brought over some boxes of my family’s old things, stuff Rebecca left behind I guess, and I found this.”

In his hand he held an aged recipe card, stained from years of use. The yellowed card stock was bent and torn, but the writing still held clear, thick and messy in some places as if it had been traced over multiple times. It was well used. Well loved. At the top, clearly labeled in large looped font, were the words ‘Orange Rolls’.

“I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I figured I’d try to make them, but I wasn’t much for the kitchen back then, let alone now. And—and you don’t have any yeast cakes. I can’t make them without yeast cakes (Y/N). It’s the first ingredient and I can’t—” The words broke off, catching in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around your legs, clinging to them like a broken child. Rolling off of him in waves, the permeating sadness and longing washed over you, breaking your heart with each hit.

“I don’t think they make yeast cakes anymore Bucky—” you spoke slowly, choosing your words carefully. At the statement, you felt his arms tighten in a panic. You were quick to placate him “—but I have some dry active yeast that I think should work. Why don’t we clean this up and then see what we can do, yea?”

Step 2. Warm 1 cup milk, add ½ cup sugar, 3 Tbsp shortening, 2 tsp salt.

Turns out, a single yeast cake is equal to approximately 4 and ½ tsps of dry active yeast. After this joyous announcement and your internal praise to Google’s ever living library of knowledge, Bucky was up on his feet, standing in front of the stove over a saucepan of milk.

“How do you know when it’s warm?” he asked, looking curiously down at the pan of milk in front of him.

“Stick your finger in it, if it feels warm, then it’s probably warm,” you answered sarcastically, reaching into the depths of your pantry for the Crisco. A rarely used, but very important staple for any kitchen.

“What? I’m not sticking my finger in it,” said Bucky, watching with rapt horror as you walked up beside him and dipped the tip of your pointer finger into the warm, white liquid.

“I think it’s warm enough to put the sugar in. What?” you asked him when you saw the look of exasperation on your boyfriend’s face.

“You put your finger in the milk.”

“And? My hands are clean. You watched me wash them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of catching cooties. Cause I hate to break it to you but, you probably already have them.” Lifting on your toes, you placed a sweet, soft kiss to his lips. Catching you around the waist before you could drop back down, Bucky kissed you back with slow purpose.

“Is that right?” he asked teasingly, breaking away from your lips ever so slightly.

“Afraid so,” you murmured against the soft, heat of his mouth.

Step 3. Beat in 3 eggs, 2 cups flour, and add dissolved yeast. Let rise for 1 hour.

The wet dough sat on the counter; a kitchen towel draped lightly over it. By this time, the sun had fully crested over the city skyline, pouring blinding light into the small space of your kitchen. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee as you waited for the dough to rise. Your bare feet sat, propped in Bucky’s lap, the thumb of his metal hand absentmindedly rubbing the arch of your right foot as he spoke animatedly.

“You should have seen her. Becca was so mad; I thought her head was going to spin all the way around!” laughed Bucky, the creases at the corners of his eyes making a warm and welcome appearance as he regaled a story that you had never heard before.

“Well that’s what she got for touching your stuff,” you said, taking Bucky’s side in the long forgotten sibling argument.

“Thank you! See, you get it. I wish I could say the same for my parents. My pa gave me such a lickin’ and then ma sent me off to bed with no dinner. All for putting worms in her bed!”

“Did she get in trouble for letting your pet frog loose?” you asked, enraptured by the story.

“No! Do you know how hard it was to find a frog in Brooklyn?”

“Impossible. I don’t even know how you did it.”

“Well, really it was Steve that found him—”

“Him? Did he have a name?” you interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, a light pinkness appearing on his cheeks, “He might of…”

“Aaaand?” you pressed, wanting to know the name even more at the prospect of it being embarrassing.

“I don’t know if I wanna’ tell you. I think you’re just gonna laugh.”

“I won’t! I promise!” you exclaimed, drawing an invisible cross over you heart.

Bucky looked at you skeptically, a raised eye trained on you before answering, “Fine. It was Mr. Ribbits.”

You tried your hardest, really you did. But a snort escaped your nose before you could stop it and then Bucky was playfully pushing your legs off of his lap and turning away from you, “See! I knew you’d laugh. You’re such a bad liar!”

“I’m sorry!” You reached for him, still attempting to stifle your giggles as you pulled at Bucky’s arm, turning him back towards you. “Really, I am. I think Mr. Ribbits is a respectable name.”

“Thank you. It is.” His tone was resolute, but it didn’t take a trained eye to spot the small smile working its way onto the corner of his lips. “But no, Becca didn’t get in trouble. In fact, my pa said I was too old to be picking up animals off the street anyways.”

“How old were you?”

“I think I was about ten.”

Step 4. Add 3 cups flour and beat in with spoon. Let raise 1 and ½ hours.

“We have to wait again?!”

“Yea, we have to let the dough rise, otherwise the rolls will be tough and there won’t be enough to roll out,” you explained, placing the towel over the bowl once again and reaching for your empty coffee cups.

“But I thought we just did that,” said Bucky in confusion. You tried not to smile at him, but the cute little scrunch of his eyebrows made you a weak and gooey fool.

“Baking is more of an art in patience than skill. Especially any kind of bread, babe. Don’t worry, once they’re done, they’ll be more than worth the wait,” you reassured him, patting his cheek gently.

“Well…can we make something else while we wait? What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Bucky asked, his innocent tone making him sound like a wide-eyed child.

You smiled, big and happy, and walked over to the recipe box that sat atop the fridge. Taking it down and setting in on the counter in front of you, you dug into the baking section and produced a handful of recipe cards.

“Take your pick soldier.”

Step 5. Roll out dough and spread on icing – 2 cups sugar, 1 orange: rind grated and juiced, 6 Tbsp melted butter. Roll, cut, and place in muffin tin. Cover and let raise 20 mins.

“Stop eating all the batter!” you scolded, whacking the back of Bucky’s hand with a spatula. The impact had no effect, the sneaking man having had the forethought to use his metal hand.

“If I wasn’t supposed to eat it this way, then why is it so delicious?” he argued, sneaking another finger into the chocolate concoction and bringing it to his mouth.

“Because it’s five pounds of sugar and fat,” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing the chocolate covered finger to your mouth instead. “Also – how is it gross for me to dip my finger into the milk but you can have these grubby little paws buried deep in my brownie batter?”

The question caught Bucky off guard. Raising his hand up, he wiggled the vibranium fingers in your face, “Metal arm – they’re, uh, sterile.”

You guffawed, absolutely tickled by the lame response, “Sterile. Okay. Well, preheat the oven Mr. Sterile.”

Using the spatula, you scraped the double chocolate chip brownie batter into the greased pan. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head came to rest on your shoulder, watching you scrape the sides of the bowl. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he placed a gentle kiss just below your ear.

“You know, you’re getting pretty mouthy these days. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” Bucky growled playfully.

Before your brain could connect with what your body was doing, the spatula had already lifted away from the bowl and made contact with the side of his face. The wet splat of batter to skin sounded plainly through the kitchen. Releasing you from his hold, Bucky stepped back, his expression vacant and shell-shocked. Dropping the spatula back into the bowl, you covered your face with your hands as you tried not to lose it. He looked positively ridiculous. Chocolate covered the left side of his face, dripping down from his brow bone to his chin. You watched as he brought a hand up slowly, touching his face and bringing it back down to examine it. He stared at the chocolate proof on his fingertips for a few moments as you waited with horrific anticipation.

“Oh, that’s it, doll. You better run.”

The menacing words sent your heart rate soaring. A playful shriek escaped your lungs as you bolted from the kitchen, Bucky on your heel with a growl in the back of his throat.

Step 6. Place in the oven at 375 for 10-15 minutes. Makes around 3 dozen.

The brownies, already baked and cooling on the counter, were long forgotten as Bucky sat in front of the oven. Arms wrapped around his bent legs, he watched as the orange rolls slowly rose in their muffin tins.

“When are they gonna be done?” he asked you, staring into the depths of the oven like a fortune teller stares into their crystal ball. Like if he looked hard enough, he’d find all the answers to the universe.

“About five more minutes.” You sat down beside him, leaning into his side as the two of you watched his long-forgotten memories rise. You were excited to try the rolls. It was a recipe you had never heard of, which was a rare thing. But most importantly you were excited to try a little piece of Bucky’s life. A piece of the man, the boy, that he used to be before life happened. It felt special and intimate.

“What if they’re not as good as I remember?” The words were soft and honest. You could feel the same sadness and apprehension as earlier that morning drift from him to you. Leaning against him firmer, you took his hand into yours. Threading the warm flesh into your own, you continued to stare into the heat of the oven.

“They will be.”

Step 7. Enjoy.

The rolls were a beautiful sight. Small, golden brown swirls in a neat, compact shape. The sugar filling had melted down into the bottom of the pan, creating and thick and chewy caramel layer at the bottom of each one. A delicious detail that Bucky said was supposed to happen, but also made it incredibly difficult to pry them from their tins. Still, with the help of a butter knife and a lot of patience, the two of you were able to get most of them out unscathed. A buttery orange scent swirled through the air, causing your mouth to salivate as they sat atop of the wire cooling rack. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, staring at the rolls in silence – you with a look of anticipation, Bucky with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering if he still doubted that they would hold up to his dream.

“I’m pretty sure they had frosting.”

While the recipe didn’t call for it, Bucky insisted that they always had a frosting on them. After a few minutes of questioning about what kind of frosting it was, or at least what it looked and tasted like, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a simple glaze. A few minutes later, you each had a plate in front of you with a single, gooey, glistening orange roll sat pristinely on it.

You were starving. You’d been up for nearly five hours and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. But you didn’t dare dig in until Bucky had his first bite. Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the roll, twisting and turning it, inspecting it with a warry expression. Holding your breath, you watched as he brought the baked good to his lips and took a generous bite. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed – each second leaving you with more consternation than the last. When he finally swallowed, he set the rest of the roll down onto his plate and heaved a heavy sigh. Your heart dropped.

“No good?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer from the way his shoulders bunched over the counter.

Looking to you, tears once again welling in his eyes, Bucky did something unexpected. He kissed you. A firm, chaste kiss that lasted only a moment but formed butterflies in your stomach before he pulled back.

“They’re even better than I remember.”

The proclamation sent your heart soaring. You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling your own tears of relief and joy begin to well. Blinking them back, you smiled at him, blinded by the dazzling smile you received in turn.

“Well then, let’s eat them all because I am famished,” you replied, picking up your own orange roll and taking a giant bite. The mix of soft, warm bread, zesty orange, chewy caramel, and sweet frosting set your taste buds alight. As you chewed, you envisioned a ten year old Bucky sitting in his mother’s kitchen on Easter morning. Curly brown hair, all teeth and dimples in his Sunday best and as happy as a kid could be. Why?

Because this was the best damn orange roll you’d ever had.

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#requests #fan fiction #fanfic #fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #memories #baking #angst

194 notes · View notes

stygianflood · 3 years

Note

B H N R

Thank you for the questions, anon 💕

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

Disjointed, my last fic is somewhat inspired by a personal experience of getting disillusioned with a (great) love 🙈 I say somewhat, because the original version got way too personal and I had to discard most of it. And no matter what, Ethan x mc aren't those people ❤️

H: How would you describe your style?

The real question is, do I even have one? 🙄 I began with a usual descriptive style, where my sentences are often long and at times analytical (which I'm trying to avoid). But recently I've found myself easing into monologues and confessional narratives, which I love.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

There's this wip that I'll never finish. By the end of Bk 2 MC actually breaks up with Ethan (and he loses it) and gets matched at residency programmes as far as possible from Boston. But I can't keep them permanently apart in any AU. And my twisty little brain took things so far that I couldn't come up with a reconciliation. So it never happened.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Literature in general- Joyce, Eliot, Woolf, Marquez for a lot of stylistic devices in language; Austen for humour.

Fanfic-

@starrystarrytrouble Her work is sheer poetry (think of Paquerettes, Amber, Coffee and Spice). Every time I read a sentence by her, I tell myself my writing will only mean something if I manage anything like that.

@alwaysmychoices She is the angst queen, and her With and Without series is the first OH fanfic that I started reading. I wish I could delve into my characters' psyche the way she does.

@utterlyinevitable Her MC Becca has this humorous, devil may care attitude that I absolutely love. And her Ethan in The Conference is one of the most perfect renditions of Ethan here.

#asked and answered

7 notes · View notes

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

amor de mi vida - 1944

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, graphic descriptions of concentration camps/gore

word count: 2686

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

note: in this year’s letters bucky goes into detail about what he sees out on the war front, it might be upsetting.

In the middle of Harlem, almost an hour on the train from Brooklyn there was a movie theater you could go to. One that showed the movies of the war effort. Moving pictures that showed Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You could see him there, large and in black and white. Your husband. You cried the first time you saw him in action.

You wrote to him about seeing it. His hair was a little longer than he’d kept it at home. His face was more serious. You could see the dark circles under his eyes that sparked the memory of how he wrote to you about the lack of sleep. How he was always tired now. How the first thing he was going to do after getting home, aside from kissing you and eating dinner at his Ma’s, was sleep.

He’d lost weight. You knew he wasn’t able to eat enough. Not like when he was home. You knew it was something he had to deal with. His last letter talked a little about hunger. The chocolate bars they gave them in their rations, he wrote, were chalky but the sweetest thing he’d had in a while.

He asked if you’d make the dulce de leche you’d made not long before he’d left. Your Mother’s guilty pleasure. He said he could taste it in his dreams. That’s what he wanted, that and his Ma’s spice cake. He wrote about boliche and his Ma’s roast chicken. He wrote about getting ice cream at the soda shop, having a burger at his favorite diner.

You watched a man you couldn’t believe was actually Steve lay out plans on the hood of a war vehicle. Laying out plans for a mission already completed. Your husband, a man you hadn’t seen in two years, fighting tirelessly beside him. You only hoped he would continue to do so. And that this war will end and he will be home soon.

“I wanted to apologize.” Winnie lay her hand over yours, “I was taken off guard by what she said,” Winnie stopped by in the morning bearing a loaf of banana bread wrapped in cloth, still warm from the oven. “I shouldn’t have let her say those things about you.” Truth be told you’d already forgiven Winnie. You could understand that it’s hard, but times were changing. Slowly. But they were.

“Thank you.” For the apology. Winnie cried when you opened the door, it broke your heart a bit. George conveyed her sorrow to you a bit earlier in the week. And the girls came over once or twice to check in and brought food with them each time, undoubtedly made by Winnie.

Bucky and Steve. The Howling Commandos. He didn’t outright say it, but he was doing dangerous work. That you knew. These side missions, these bases they were infiltrating, something to do with a cell called Hydra. A brutal underbelly of the Nazi regime. Something deeper, more sinister with worse intentions.

It made your heart leap in your chest every time there was a knock on the door. The fear that it would be someone from the government coming to tell you that Bucky was gone. That he wasn’t coming home.

But his letters kept coming. Fewer in number than they had before.

It’s harder to write when they’ve got us in the middle of nowhere. He says. They ship the commandos all over Europe. Chasing after Hydra cells. He sends out the letters in a thick stack when he can. Steve met a woman, he says. Margaret Carter.

Bucky says you’d like her. And how when they get home the four of you should go out. A double date. Some realm of normalcy after the horrors he sees out there.

He talks about something truly horrible. They were skin and bones, these kids. These people. Starved half to death. Flies on their bodies as though they were already dead. Taken from the concentration camps and put in these Hydra facilities to be experimented on. Bodies left to rot in the cells with them.

The smell, he says. He doesn’t think he will ever forget that smell.

These aren’t in the letters he sends to his family.

He said he started having nightmares. He couldn’t understand how someone could do something so evil. To hate someone so passionately for what they believed. For who they were. But then again, he hates them for what they believed, for who they were. These monsters who ripped people from their homes and starve, beat, and kill them.

He just wants to be home. He sends a pressed peony on your anniversary.

I love you, he says, more than anything. I can’t wait to see you again.

He acts like he’s not afraid, because he doesn’t want to worry you. He says that the allies are winning, that he’ll be home in no time.

“Are you Y/N Barnes?” Usually you don’t get bothered while out. Most women who shopped at this grocery store ignored you, the rumors of whether you were hired help or housewife circulated, but they were all too afraid to ask. It was impolite after all. And most believed you were the Help regardless.

“Yes, can I help you?” Your english had gotten better but was still heavily accented. The woman behind you had a soft smile, you didn’t recognize her as someone you knew but the younger girl behind her looked to be Becca’s age. The Mother blushed,

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Her voice soft, so those around could not overhear, she stepped closer to you, “My daughter is infatuated with the dress Rebecca Barnes was wearing last Sunday in church and Rebecca says that you’re the one who made it.” You did. It was a soft blue for the oncoming spring. Yellow daisies hand stitched into the skirt.

“I did.” The basket in your hands was growing heavy with the fresh peaches they’d recently gotten in, you weren’t sure where this woman was going with this.

“Would you be able to make my daughter a dress just as fine?” The woman asked, “I’d be happy to pay you.” The young girl, fourteen, looked hopeful behind her mother. “A dress like that would probably be ten dollars in the store? Does that sound fair?”

“What color would you like?” Ten dollars was good money for a dress. You couldn’t say no and the woman and her daughter were both very sweet. You’d worked hard on the dress for seven days before she came to pick it up. Her daughter cooing over the fabric and turning around in the mirror as you made final measurements. The blush pink and white stitching, blush pink roses soft in the hem.

“Thank you very much.” The Mother, handing you the money as payment for the dress now zipped in a garment bag they’d brought. “I’m sure once I wring a little more out of my husband's pockets we will be back for more.”

One dress became another, and another Mother wanted a dress for her daughter, and then the other girls in Becca’s class asking for dresses. Suddenly you were making your own money, not in the factory this time, but enough to keep your fingers busy and give you something to do during the day with the help of Winnie.

Winnie would help you measure and fit the girls. She would help you with the basic stitching when the orders piled up, you would work on the finer details. The small stitching. The tug and pull of forming flowers.

You excitedly wrote to Bucky about it.

Once you were married he didn��t want you working at the factory anymore. “It’s a death trap.” He explained. But people could get away with a lot when it came to immigrants. Poor working conditions, not having the proper ventilation, and the long hours. You were doing the very thing he encouraged you to do all along.

But making dresses for family was vastly different than making dresses for strangers. When prom season came around you were up to your ears in tulle and velvet.

It seemed a little arbitrary, but he praised you for it anyway. You imagined him covered in dirt, out in the heat of summer, blood on his boots and an empty belly, writing this letter telling you how proud he was that you were doing something you loved doing. It felt heavy in your stomach.

Like it was unfair.

But his checks went into the same account you put this money into. And it was good money. A plan for the future.

A woman brought her baby once. A sweet fat little thing. Yes, she wailed and cried, she tugged on your hair and just about ripped the earring out of your ear but it gave a new craving. You wanted to start a family.

You thanked God that you hadn’t gotten pregnant before Bucky left, a baby was hard to handle alone. And with the stress and heartache with him being overseas you weren’t sure you could have handled having a baby going on two years old now. But when he got home, it was something to be brought up. A maternal craving you didn’t know you had.

The summer brought backyard barbecues and trips to the beach. For Bucky it was a little different.

He wrote about some nice things. The countryside. Steve rambling incessantly about his new girl. A village that made them a decent meal. He said that he’d forgotten what good food tasted like. He wrote about how he got to sleep in an actual bed for the first time in a while. About how he got to meet Howard Stark. That Steve knew him. That Stark helped him become whatever he is now. Stronger, faster, a super soldier.

Stark was talking about starting an organization to deal with people like this, Hydra. To keep groups like this from taking root. He offered Bucky a job when he gets back to New York. But that would be a conversation for another day, he writes, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.

He also wrote about the Russians liberating a camp, how they felt like they were getting closer to the goal. He said this time next year he should be home with you the way it’s looking now. There were a number of hydra bases left, but they’ve spent the better part of a year eradicating them.

These letters that were being read by you now, albeit slowly, but Suzy was no longer looking over your shoulder became brazen, a little racy.

Bucky wrote about how he dreams of you, every night. How you feel against him. How you taste on his tongue. You felt heat grow in your cheeks reading about it. He talked about how he looked at your picture every day, how he craved your lips. How your hair felt in his hands. How your body felt under his.

You wrote back about tracing your fingers over his back, trailing your lips there. The closeness that sex brought you. How it made you feel. A breath apart and panting with it. The reunion was craved by both sides. The longing in the letters was clear. But it quickly turned sour.

There was a husband, he wrote, in one of the villages. He’d gotten to safety. But his wife was taken. There was a Hydra base nearby. These men, he wrote, come whenever they want, whatever time of day they want, and they rob these people who have no means to defend themselves. When they found the base, it was similar to the others. He didn’t want you to know what conditions he was put under, so he never described it to you. But you could assume it was terrible with the way they found the people there.

The man’s wife was dead. And he described how this man fell in the street. The emotion of it, raw and powerful. It broke your heart. He lamented about how the man told him that he’d met his love as a child. He spent his entire life with her. And now she’s gone. He asked what he should do. Because he didn’t know. And he wasn’t the only civilian who experienced loss that day.

The sorrow was palpable, he wrote, there were no songs of victory by the campfire that night. There was no celebration. The village was small enough that everyone lost someone, and it was felt.

The summer closed with the boys back in London, seemingly the home base for whatever missions they’d been working on. And there was something big, or so Bucky eluded to. He couldn’t say to compromise the mission, but it was something big. He didn’t know exactly what would happen, but it was the beginning of the end, the real end. Of Hydra and Nazi Germany.

It gave you hope. Maybe he’ll be home soon. Maybe this war will finally be over and he’ll be home, safe.

Communication was tight for the rest of the year. Something you chose to ignore by making the girl’s fall and winter dresses. Throwing yourself into your dress orders, an entire room in the house, one that would, god willing, be a room for one of your future children, covered in crushed blue velvet and rich greens and reds. You’d gotten a beautiful champagne colored tule you couldn’t help but buy along with some frivolous ribbons and playful buttons to change up the looks of the back of the dresses.

It was something easy to focus on, mindful and relaxing tasks that took your mind off of the fact that letters were fewer than ever and your husband was thousands of miles away doing truly dangerous work.

The Barnes household was buzzing with activity. All morning preparations for Christmas dinner, straight after Church you found yourself in the Barnes’ kitchen peeling potatoes, cutting carrots, and trussing a turkey.

Softly in the background was a memory of last year. I’ll Be Home for Christmas. The optimism of last year drowned with the optimism for next year. Bucky said he feels like it will be over soon. And hopefully it will be.

There was a stack of presents accumulated from last year's Christmas and birthdays, and the year before’s. Waiting for him to open.

“Maybe he’ll be home by his birthday.” Ginny was twenty and beautiful, now with a steady boyfriend you were sure would propose any day now.

The room was light and hopeful. George Barnes was stringing cranberries with Rebecca and Suzy, and now eighteen-year-old Ruth was reading a letter that had just arrived for the family.

“They got to see a USO show before going back out.” Ruth reads, “Dinah Shore.” You looked at her confused. You didn’t know who Dinah Shore was. “She sings ‘Yes, My Darling Daughter’, she was in ‘Thank Your Stars’.” You shake your head, never having heard the song or seen that movie before. Ruth shrugs, a smile on her face, “She’s blonde and pretty.” As an explanation to why they would have Dinah Shore try to raise the morale of the troops. A laugh was shared. “He said that he’s never going to eat another can of beans for the rest of his life.”

You focused on placing the turkey in the oven. There was some unfound jealousy at the thought of your husband screaming and shouting, hollering at a woman sent to perform for them. It was dumb, but it was there.

You tried to remind yourself about his last letter, the one he’d written before he left for his mission. He’d written enough to stagger out some letters, but you were afraid they were going to stop coming all together. You felt like you were being silly having jealousy about some woman who you didn’t even know. And it quickly went away as you thought about maybe this time next year. Maybe it’ll be all over. And that extra spot at the table will be filled.

You could only hope.

taglist // @corneliabarnes @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @albinotigerpython @cake-writes @iheartsebastianstan @000bananaclip000 @shadowbusiness @sprinkleofbooty @gifsbysimplysonia @vhsbarnes @loseralert @wendaiii @mcueveryday @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #latinx!reader #latina!reader #1940s!bucky barnes #1940s au #the falcon and the winter soldier #steve rogers #captain america #sebastian stan

73 notes · View notes

etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

Run To You - Chpt.5

Summary: Bucky & Steve’s date has some unintended consequences forcing Bucky to make some hard decisions. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Attempted child abduction. Emphasis on ATTEMPTED. Becca will be fine ya’ll.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Remember last chapter where I was like “oh hey enjoy this unusually large chapter”? Well, I went to write a normally sized chapter and my hand slipped. Whoops! Enjoy another giant beast chapter lovelies! And don’t hate me for the angst!! I promise this fic has a happy ending, it’s just a long road to get there. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Five

Bucky wakes to bright light streaming in his bedroom window and Becca sitting on top of him. “Wake up sleepy head!” she chirps, shoving his shoulder as hard as she can.

“Whoa, calm it down little miss.” Bucky grumbles.

“I’m gonna be late!”

Bucky looks over at the alarm clock and realizes she’s right. “Shit.”

“Bad word!!”

“Becca!” Bucky snaps and instantly regrets it. “Quieter, bug. Please. Come on, let’s get moving.”

Bucky hurries Becca through her morning routine, grabbing her tiny backpack and breakfast on their way out the door. Bucky knows he’s a mess, hair sloppily thrown up in a bun, sweatpants and a hoodie because he just can’t take the time to find real clothes. He doesn’t even bother to throw on his prosthetic. Becca nibbles at her string cheese and mini muffins as they hustle down the busy city sidewalks to her school, just finishing as they round the last corner. He gives her a quick hug and kiss before she runs into the building screeching hello to the teacher at the door. The teacher gives Bucky an odd look that he chalks up to him looking like a hot mess and he gives her a small wave and terse smile in return.

It’s early yet and Bucky doesn’t have to worry about work for a few more hours so he decides to splurge and stop for coffee and a breakfast sandwich on his walk home. One treat won’t hurt and he’s still holding on to the warm feeling in his chest from last night’s date with Steve. Waiting in line a few other people give Bucky strange looks and he wonders how rough of shape he’s in. He prays there isn’t a giant rip on his clothes or something but after a discrete check he doesn’t think that’s the case. Just a weird morning then.

The hoodie actually comes in handy once Bucky realizes he can’t carry both a sandwich and his coffee when he’s down an arm. Tucking the sandwich in his hoodie pouch, he sips the pumpkin spice latte slowly enjoying the sweet fall flavors on his way home. His phone starts chirping at him but with no free hand Bucky is forced to ignore it until he gets back to the apartment. It was going off earlier too and he figures who ever needs him so damn bad can just wait five more minutes.

Bucky stretches out on the sofa to enjoy his breakfast, throwing on a random movie from his queue, when he finally looks at his phone. He wonders if the world is ending and he missed it somehow. Eight missed calls from Steve, two voicemails, and four texts. Two calls from Natasha, one voicemail, and two texts. Three texts from Clint.

Natasha wants to know if he’s seen the news, if he’s okay, and what she can do to help.

Clint also asks if he’s okay and tells him he’s an ass for not sharing the deets.

Steve asks him repeatedly to call him, frantically apologizing in between.

Still confused and becoming increasingly worried, Bucky brings up the news on his phone and finds his own face on the front page. The picture is from the night before, he and Steve walking back to his place with Becca on Steve’s shoulders. They look so happy that it tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings before the realization of what this means sinks in. He shoots a quick text to Natasha assuring her that he’s fine and he’ll catch up with her tonight. Clint gets two emojis in response: a thumbs up and the middle finger. Steve, he actually calls back. The blonde had sounded so worried in his voicemails.

“Bucky, thank god.” Steve blurts out in lieu of hello.

“Well good morning to you too.” Bucky jokes.

“Are you okay? Is Becca okay?”

“Yeah, Steve, we’re good. I just dropped Becca off a preschool. I don’t know what you’re worried about, it was a normal morning outside of a few funny looks. But honestly that was probably me going out looking like a hobo because I overslept.”

“Buck…” Steve falters, “It won’t be long ‘til they figure out who you are. We can keep the press at bay here in the tower but you’re going to have some serious issues as soon as a reporter gets your name. You and Becca could come stay here for a bit or I can have a security team allocated to you both until the news dies down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down a minute. We don’t need security and I’m not dragging Becca to Manhattan just because some dudes with cameras may or may not come pester us. We’ll be okay.”

“I’m just worried about you guys. You didn’t sign on for the shit storm that’s blowing up right now. I’m so sorry, Buck.”

“Actually, I did.” Bucky points out, “I’m not stupid, Steve. I knew what I was signing on for the minute we started talking. It’s gonna be okay, nothing lasts forever and Becca is a resilient kid.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment, trying to compose himself to say what he knows he needs to say. “If you need to take some time apart until this all dies down…” he chokes up and lets the sentence lie.

“No.” Bucky’s voice is firm. “I’m not running on you again. We’re gonna deal with this together.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily in relief, “I’m going to be tied up today doing interviews. Apparently there’s no hiding the fact that I’m bisexual now. It’s funny that I’ve never tried to hide it but the news is claiming I’ve been ‘publicly outed’ by the tabloids. I’m not going to say a whole lot about you, about us. I don’t want to speak for you or anything. But if you’re okay with it, I would like to confirm that I’m in a relationship and that I care about you very much.”

“Aww, you big sap. Yeah, of course that’s fine.”

“Can I call you later when I have time?”

“I’m working tonight but I’ll have a chance for a quick break around 10pm.”

“I’ll talk to you then. If you need anything, I mean it Buck, anything, just call me. I’ll pick up on national TV if I have to.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and hopes Steve can feel his exasperation through the phone lines. “Get going, ya punk. You have a country full of conservatives to horrify with your secret homosexual agenda.”

Steve laughs, the first bit of happiness he’s had since waking up to the news. “Will do.” he says quickly and hangs up before his overly dramatic heart can blurt out something terribly stupid like I love you. He pushes down the tender, fledgling emotion, knowing it’s too fast but feeling the gentle flutters nonetheless.

Natasha arrives at Bucky’s apartment a full hour early that night so he can get her caught up while making dinner for her and Becca, while Becca watches an episode of Wonder Pets in the living room. Natasha apparently watched a few interview clips of Steve’s and teases Bucky over how completely smitten they both are. It’s nice and normal, the teasing and banter over a new relationship with his best friend. It makes him think Steve really was just being overly concerned with his fears.

It’s a blessedly slow night at the ER and no one seems to recognize Bucky as he hops from one patient to the next, getting people stabilized and ready to be seen by one of the doctors on shift. When Steve calls at ten he sounds better than he had that morning. He’s exhausted from the media circus but pleased that he was able to get the story out in his own words. He asked for privacy for all their sakes but knows it won’t last long. Bucky continues to assure him that they’ll handle things as they come and to not worry. Steve can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the storm.

The calm only lasts until 2am. Dr. Strange pulls Bucky out of a patient room, pushing Darcy in to take his place and dragging him down the hall to the staff break room. “What the hell?” Bucky demands once the door is shut.

Strange’s face is grim, “There are currently fifteen reporters in the lobby all asking if you’re working and if anyone has a statement they’d like to make.”

Bucky’s stomach drops, “Fuck.”

“Yes, fuck indeed. I’ve already made some calls and the police are on their way to clear house. We don’t expect that to last however. HR is willing to give you the rest of this week off, paid, while we sort out protocol for this sort of thing. Amanda will call you tomorrow to talk details once the board meets and decides what we can do to protect both you and our patients. We obviously can’t have reporters milling around every time you work.”

Bucky doesn’t even know what to say.

“If you want to go gather your things, Paul in security will escort you out the back away from the reporters.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, because really what else can he do?

Darcy catches up with him as he’s packing up his locker, “They’re sending you home?” she cries, pulling him into a hug.

Bucky nods numbly, “Rest of the week, yeah. They have to, there’s too much going on right now. It’s paid at least.”

“Well that’s something.” Darcy concedes. “How are you getting home? It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Paul’s gonna have me go out the back. I’ll be okay.”

“Call me if you need me.” she insists, giving him another tight hug.

Bucky promises he will and then follows the kindly old security guard through the maze of hospital halls and outside.

The air is bitter cold and Bucky’s thankful for his heavy jacket as he hurries down the mostly empty streets home. Natasha is tapping away on her laptop when he arrives. She does cyber security work and swears she gets most of her work done after midnight anyway. It works out well when he needs help on his overnight shift rotations.

“What happened?” she demands and slams the lid of her laptop down.

Bucky shucks off his jacket and joins Natasha on the sofa. “Reporters showed up at the hospital, like a lot of them. Strange was on tonight, thank god, he’s a tough son of a bitch and he wasn’t putting up with crap from anyone. They snuck me out the back while the cops got rid of the reporters.”

“But what about tomorrow? Is this gonna affect your job?”

Bucky shrugs, trying to ignore the low level fear humming in his veins over that exact concern. “I honestly don’t know. HR is gonna call me tomorrow once they figure out ‘protocol’ for this. Somehow Strange got them to give me the rest of the week off with pay. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself for the next six days.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, surprised and happy for him. “I vote catching up on your Netflix queue and being a lazy ass. You never take a break, Bucky. And you of all people deserve one. Maybe go spend some more time with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours. Some kid-free time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her eyebrows until Bucky throws a pillow at her. She ducks easily, laughing. “I’m just saying! It’s been a long time since he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Bucky bristles at the mention of his ex. He should have seen Brock for the piece of shit he was, but he’d missed it at first, too wrapped up in the bliss of a new relationship. In the end, Brock’s true colors had come out and Bucky had ended things before it could become even more toxic than they already become. He sighs, pushing the ugly memories away. “It hasn’t been that long. And you’re forgetting Micah from the hospital cafe.”

“It’s been four years since him. And Micah doesn’t count. That was a year ago and it didn’t go past a lunch date where he, and I quote, kissed you like a St. Bernard.”

Bucky shudders at the memory. “Okay, so it’s been a while. Maybe I will go see Steve one day while Becca’s at school.”

“That’s more like it!” Natasha cheers quietly, cautious to not disturb Becca. “So, do you want company or should I scoot and let you get some rest?”

“I love you for offering but I just wanna crash. If I can get a few hours now I’ll be able to get back on daytime hours easier.”

“Love you too.” Natasha leans over to hug him before packing up her stuff and heading out.

It was a crazy day but as Bucky climbs into bed, he’s still resolved that it’s going to be okay again soon.

Bucky is groggy when his alarm goes off at 7am but it’s better than he would have been if he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Becca is thrilled that he’s home and even more so when he tells her that he’ll be home the rest of the week. They make plans over breakfast for things they can do after she gets out of school since they have all the time in the world now. Bucky compromises with one quick park trip, which he cringes thinking about but he’ll just have to pack her inhaler and make sure she takes breaks, two trips to the library, and one night they’ll grab dinner at the neighborhood diner for their kids eat free night.

The week flies by and Bucky gets the all clear on Thursday to return the following Sunday once the hospital is able to put additional security in place. He’s thankful they’re not just letting him go to avoid all the hassle but several nurses and doctors apparently made their opinions loud and clear that he was worth the additional security measures. Bucky is eternally grateful for his coworkers and makes plans to take in a tray of thank you brownies on his first shift back.

A second round of good news comes in a few hours later; Steve is back early from his latest mission. They make plans for the following day, unwilling to wait any longer to see one another again. Steve will be, in theory, just hanging around the tower wrapping up some post-mission paperwork from earlier in the week so he’ll be able to take most of the day to show Bucky around the tower and spend time with him. He also offered to take them all to The Met after Becca gets out of school and Bucky said he’ll consider it. It’s a little extravagant, but something about picking her up together and going on an outing tugs at his heartstrings. It’s so perfectly domestic, like a real family would do. Bucky tries to ignore the longing he feels for something he’s never let himself consider before.

There’s a lone reporter lingering outside his apartment when Bucky heads out to pick up Becca from school. There were a lot the first two days but their numbers dropped off drastically when they realized he really wasn’t all that interesting. “Hey man.” Bucky gives the reporter a little wave. He has to give the guy credit for determination. “Still not going to do anything interesting, sorry.”

The reporter huffs a laugh, “Ya never know!”

Bucky laughs in return and heads off, trying to ignore the fact that the man is following him a few steps back. He gives the guy a few more days before he gives up too. Bucky is a single parent with a full time job, he doesn’t have the time to do anything interesting.

Rounding the corner to Becca’s school he spies the little girl talking to a man in a long beige wool coat. The man is tall and thin with greying hair and wire framed glasses. His appearance screams of wealth in a way that would make him fit right in as a parent of someone at the school, but something is off and Bucky steps up his pace. Becca hasn’t spotted him yet but he hears the man ask “Your daddy is friends with Captain America isn’t he?”

Becca, all proud smiles, informs him, “He’s my brother, not my daddy. And Captain America is his boyfriend.”

“Isn’t that nice. Hey, I have something you can give your brother for me, okay? Can you be a big helper? It’s right over here.” Becca looks unsure so the man smiles brightly and takes her hand, leading her down the sidewalk away from the school. A black van pulls up at the end of the block, a door swinging open and the man hurries her along.

Bucky screams Becca’s name and breaks out into a full run. Icy fear consumes him, driving him to move faster than he ever has before. Please God no, please, don’t let them take my baby girl.

The reporter realizes what’s going on and sprints right along with Bucky. They collide with the man and Becca at the same time. The reporter tackles the man, pinning him to the ground, leaving Bucky to grab Becca and roll to the ground shielding her in his arms. A teacher runs over with her phone out yelling “The police are on their way!” to them.

The man writhes underneath the reporter, trying to free himself while looking panickedly at the van. The van door slides shut and then the vehicle flies off with screeching tires. Once it’s out of sight the man lays his head back on the pavement in defeat.

“Just stay put buddy.” the reporter grumbles.

Now that Becca is safe Bucky is filled with a depth of rage he didn’t even realize he was capable of. Somebody tried to snatch his baby girl right in broad daylight. Bucky checks her over one more time before passing her off to the teacher who’s still holding on the line for 911.

Bucky stalks over to where the reporter still has the man pinned. His movements are predatory, his voice low, practically a grow, when he demands, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The reporter just stares at the man, also waiting for an answer.

“I am one of many.”

Bucky shakes his head. God, he just wants to punch this guy in his smug face. “Fine. Who do you work for?”

“Cut off one head and two more take its place.”

“I’m getting real sick of riddles and I still got at least two minutes before the cops show. Last time, asshole. Who the fuck do you work for and why do you want my kid?”

“The child, or you, it matters not. Either will get us the captain. We are everywhere. We will come again, and we will succeed. Hail Hydra.” The man crunches down on something and within seconds he’s foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling lifeless back in his head.

Bucky looks to Becca, thankful the teacher is shielding her away from what took place. Ice cold fear runs in his veins. He knew there could potentially be a risk dating Steve, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge. Up until minutes ago he’d thought the only real concern was pesky reporters. Most of which, he has to admit, are actually good people just trying to make a living. A real threat, a fucking terrorist threat, is something he’d never really put much thought into. That name too: Hydra. Everyone knows of the Nazi group who Captain America has been trying to destroy since the 40s. A threat from them is very, very real.

The cops arrive and start dispersing the crowd that’s formed. It seems like forever until they’ve taken statements from everyone and the body is removed. Becca holds up as well as a four year old can trying to answer the police man’s questions, and Bucky fills in gaps as he can. They take his statement too and let him know they can provide a security detail if he wants. The officer looks sheepish but also recommends he call Steve because Shield and the Avengers can likely provide better security than the NYPD can. Bucky thanks the officer and agrees to call Steve as soon as possible.

Becca is shaking so hard by the time they head home that Bucky scoops the little girl up to carry her the whole way. Two uniformed officers follow them back and do a full sweep of the apartment just to err on the side of caution. Buck appreciates the security but as he stands in his too quiet apartment he realizes he can’t do this every day. He adopted Becca to give her a better life and now he’s put her in more danger than she ever would have been in being raised by their parents. All because some small part of him still held on to the hope that there was someone out there that he could love and would love him back wholeheartedly and forever. That despite his upbringing, he could have a perfect family of his own one day. Bucky feels painfully childish that his pathetic longing for a partner had almost cost him his sister.

Ever the responsible parent, Bucky stifles the emotions whirling in his chest and puts on a good front for Becca’s sake. She falls asleep halfway through Frozen II and Bucky doesn’t even bother trying to wake her. He knows there’s no fighting the adrenaline crash she’s feeling. His own crash will be equally brutal when it comes, but for now it’s still nowhere in sight. Bucky is too keyed up, restless and desperately trying to find a solution that keeps all of them safe and happy. He drags a cup of coffee and a blanket out onto the fire escape where he sits to watch the sun drop lower and lower among the roof tops. He’s almost finished his drink when a knock sounds on the door.

The security detail is supposed to be vetting anyone going near his apartment so the odds are good it’s someone he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping a kitchen knife into his hand on the way to the door. Peering through the peephole Bucky sees red hair, black leather, and a very pissed off Natasha. “Let me in.” she says, it sounds like a warning.

Bucky opens the door and stands out of the way. It’s not worth arguing with Natasha when she gets like this.

“You turned off your phone.” She comments without emotion.

Bucky nods. “I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Natasha follows him as he heads to the kitchen to return the knife, seemingly pleased by his caution. “By it, you mean Steve.”

“Amongst other things.”

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just name it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I keep coming to the same answer and I hate it, Nat. I just… I can’t do this to Becs.” Bucky’s voice cracks on the little girl’s name and Natasha wraps her best friend into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

“I don’t even know how to do what I want to do. I’m sure it’s not nearly as easy as movies make it out to be.”

“Let me help. You and Becca mean the world to me. Whatever it is we’ll figure it out together.”

Bucky sighs heavily, still leaning on Natasha. “We need to disappear.”

Natasha goes still, “Are you sure?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I can’t think of any other way to keep her safe. Even if I break up with Steve, Hydra can still use us as leverage. Feelings don’t just disappear... But people can.”

“Okay. Give me four hours.” Natasha pulls back and starts texting rapidly on a small cell phone Bucky has never seen before.

“What the fuck, Nat.”

“Working in cyber security has some perks.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s normally supposed to have those kinds of perks.”

“Well, it depends on who you’re keeping secure.” Nastaha’s smile is cheshire.

“Damn. Okay, then. What do you need me to do?”

“Stay put. I’d say try to get some sleep but I know you won’t. Pack a duffel bag for each of you. No more than that, I mean it. Think in terms of what you absolutely can’t leave behind, this is not packing for vacation. You can buy basic stupid shit when you get where you’re going. Two outfits and whatever else you can’t leave that fits in two duffels. Got it?”

“Okay, got it.”

“Oh, and your phone. You won’t be needing that anymore.”

Bucky holds the phone out but doesn’t let go. “I have all of Becs’ baby pictures on there.”

Natasha gives him an understanding smile. “I’ll move them all to an online cloud storage site. You won’t lose a single one.”

Bucky releases the phone. “Thanks, Nat.”

Natasha hugs him tightly again. “Four hours. Be ready.”

And with that Bucky is left alone in his living room in shock. He supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Natasha has always been a badass. He used to joke she was really a Russian spy and their friendship was just a cover for her real identity. Bucky now wonders now how close to the truth he might have been.

Four hours later, down to the minute, Natasha is striding through his door once again, a large envelope tucked under her arm. There’s no warm welcome or pleasantries, Natasha has her game face on and Bucky is still too rattled to try for levity. Spreading the papers out on the coffee table Natasha organizes everything quickly. “Birth certificates, immigration paperwork, social security cards, school records, medical records, a resume with work history and references, and a quick life history fact sheet for both of you.” She places a wallet from her pocket onto the table as well, flipping it open quickly to show him it’s fully filled with cards, cash, and an ID card.

Bucky scans over the documents, unable to believe she had pulled this off so quickly and how real everything looked. “Sebastian Stan?” he asks, nose wrinkling.

Natasha nods, “Yep, you’re Romanian. You moved here with your daughter Elena when she was two months old. Your wife died in childbirth and so you brought her here to start over.”

He spies the address on the drivers license. “Rochester? Is that where we’re actually going?”

“No, of course not. You and your daughter have recently moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine. That’s where you’re headed. You’ll be happy to know their local urgent care center is looking for a new triage nurse. The pay is pretty good and it’ll be enough to cover rent for the cute little apartment that you just put a down payment on.” Natasha pulls something from her pocket, it’s flesh colored and rolled up tightly. She hands it over with a simple, “Here, you’ll need this too. Don’t want that guy drawing too much attention to you.”

Bucky stares at the silicone sleeve, realizing it’s a perfect fit for his prosthetic. The details are down to an art, from light arm hairs and tiny freckles. It’s soft enough too that as long as you don’t grasp it very hard, it’ll feel shockingly similar to his right arm. “Damn. You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Of course not. Who do you think you’re dealing with?” Natasha glares at him affectionately.

Bucky chuckles, of course she’s the best at this. She’s been the best at everything since the day they met. “What happens to Bucky and Becca Barnes then?” he’s afraid to ask but he needs to know.

“They got on a flight to Moscow two hours ago. There’s a few nice security officers and cab drivers who will all verify they were sighted leaving the airport about eight hours from now.”

“That works for the rest of the world, but what happens if Steve goes looking? He has an awful lot of friends in high places.”

“Steve isn’t going to go looking right now. And even if he did, the alibi will hold up. Trust me.”

A tiny piece of Bucky’s heart shatters that Steve would just let him go so easily.

Natasha recognizes the look on his face and quickly adds, “He called you non stop after the news broke. Sent you dozens of texts too. You very nearly had the full force of SHIELD and the Avengers on your doorstep if it wasn’t for Tony Stark.”

“What happened?”

“Tony convinced Steve that if you weren’t calling or responding that he was as good as dumped. The rumor mill always hinted their relationship was strained but Tony really is good at kicking Steve when he’s down and Tony played his cards right on this one. Steve has been holed up in his apartment all night, he’s not doing too great.”

It kills Bucky to know he’s putting Steve through this pain, but he’s firm in his decision. He’d be more disappointed in himself but he’s too tired. Things got tough and he’s doing exactly what he’s been doing since he was a kid to protect himself: he’s running. “How do you even know all this?” Bucky asks, realizing Natasha shouldn’t have this level of detail on the goings on at the tower.

“I hacked into the security feed at Avengers Tower. Jarivs was a handful but not more than I could handle. Tony Stark is brilliant but he’s also arrogant, and that’s his downfall.”

“You are, without a doubt, the scariest person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky can’t hold back the tears at the thought of leaving Natasha behind.

“What do you mean, miss me? You went to college with Natalie Rushman, you’re even Instagram friends. You haven’t seen me in a few years but we still keep in touch regularly.” Natasha brings out yet another little black phone he’s never seen and shows him Natalie’s Instagram account.

“How many of those little phones do you have tucked up your sleeve?” he teases.

“The world will never know.” she quips in return. “I do need to go though.” she adds in a more serious tone.

Bucky nods, he knew this was coming. He can’t get words past the lump in his throat.

“You have a train to catch in about forty minutes. That one will take you as far as Boston and there’s more tickets from there. Try and get some rest, you’ll be getting into town in Maine around eight in the morning.”

“I’ve gone longer without sleep pulling doubles at the hospital, this won’t be nearly as bad.”

Natasha gives him a half hearted smile, “You’re all set then.”

Bucky pulls her in for one last hug. “I’ll message Natalie when we arrive.”

“Mmm, yes. Sebastian would definitely snap a pic of his new hometown when he arrives. I’ve heard it’s very Insta-worthy.” Tears shine in Natasha’s eyes but they don’t fall. She swallows thickly. “Be safe.”

“You too.” Bucky manages to croak out through the overwhelming tide of emotions. He holds her for one last heartbeat before she slips out the door like a ghost.

Bucky goes through all the documents Natasha left behind and finds a thin red iPhone in the stack. There’s a post-it note stuck on top warning “do not activate until after you are on the second train”. So much for keeping himself occupied while he waits. In the end he spends most of the time pacing around the apartment and double checking his bags. He checks the time again, making sure he’s down to the final few minutes when he finally goes to get a sleeping Becca from her bed. She barely stirs as he carefully slides her into her warm purple jacket and slips socks and shoes on her feet. He slings her over his shoulder and collects the two duffels with his free hand. It’s a little jarring to see tan skin where he’s used to seeing shiny steel but he appreciates that Natasha thought of everything.

He worries momentarily about the security detail outside his apartment but quickly realizes they’re distracted helping an elderly woman catch her escaped pomeranian who’s barking up a storm. It’s a good diversion, one clearly planned out. Bucky holds on tightly to Becca and all but runs down the hall to the stairwell. He doesn’t slow down until he’s two blocks away and he realizes he really did escape without being sighted. Slowing his pace to a normal New York hustle, he heads towards the train station and to their new lives.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #non winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #parent!bucky #nurse!bucky #becca barnes #kid!becca barnes

12 notes · View notes

becca-e-barnes · 10 months

Note

I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.

Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy

But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.

You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.

"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.

"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.

There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.

Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.

He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.

"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."

That's got your attention.

You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.

You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.

Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.

"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."

He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.

He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.

When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.

"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #I've gotten so into Scandal again recently #I'm so so so into Mellie #holy shit that woman is stunning #I'd be so tempted to write some shamelessly filthy Mellie x reader #I like Fitz too but just imagine THE COMPETITION #right no I actually HATE picking a colour for a pedi #I get a gel pedi every few weeks and I really need colour suggestions #Last time I got a sparkly red #the time before I got white with a pearly kind of shimmer on top #I've liked both but I'm so bad at picking a colour #I know neons are usually safe in summer but I don't think I'd like neons on me #open to any other suggestions tbh

4K notes · View notes

winterirondiscord · 4 years

Text

WI Discord Staycation Crew 3 Word Prompt Game!

As part of last week’s Pride celebration, the Staycation Crew played a game! And here are the fascinating results...

Rules: create a fic summary using the three prompted words

Perfection, book worm, a Wish - @psychiccatpanda

Finally, Bucky's got an evening to himself - no team dinners, no therapy appointments, no Steve wanting to work out - just quiet. Perfect. He picked up his book again - a Hercule Poirot mystery. So sue him - Agatha Christie was fantastic - and he was just getting to the good part. Please, let me finish this in peace. Then came the knock on his door.

Missed connections, World Map, Impulsive - @journeythroughtherain

When Tony took his first vacation in three years, he decided, to his PA's great despair, to scrap all of his pre-scheduled travelling plans and throw a dart on a world map to figure out his destination.

When he gets there, he does it again, and then again. He enjoys his freedom and the exhilaration of never knowing where he'll be going next, until a chance meeting on the Trans-Siberian Railway makes him wonder if he's finally found somewhere - someone - he wants to go home to at the end of his journey.

Now he's only got to figure out who the fascinating man that captivated his heart and mind was, and where to find him again. Unfortunately, he's only got his first name to go on - James.

Bunny, Perfect recipe, naughty - @rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter

Bucky Barnes was happy to have his past as an assassin behind him. Things were different now. He was part of team, had a cat, a boyfriend, a steady job, and was dangerously close to overdose on domestic bliss. He wasn’t bored. He just wanted more. He’d cleared it with Tony, a little magic in the kitchen to spice up their sex life would be fun. Bucky discovers that the package's slogan—you’ll fuck like rabbits!—was literal when he’s left with a bunny where his boyfriend used to be.

Heroic gesture, trust, crosshairs - @jamesbuckystark

An evil villain has attacked and has a chemical that can decimate 75% of Earth’s population if released into the air. The machine is ready to be put into operation… he just needs to enter a code. The Avengers retaliate, but the villain has caught Tony and is using him as a human shield. Bucky has a shot, but he has Tony in the crosshairs. He knows Tony trusts him to make the best decisions, but does he trust Bucky enough to let him shoot?

Shadows, Mirror mirror, shaking - @fightingforcreativity

Tony wasn't overly fond of the twilight hours. Shadows were drawn long and taunting, noises resonating throughout the old manor. He hated this manor with a passion, wasn't even sure why he was here.

'Stupid Honeybear and his stupid ideas about responsibility'

Rhodey had told him more often than not that Tony ought to look into the old family manor in the black forest. " 'Tony, he said, you need to know what you own and what not' yadayada."

Tony grumbled while also trying to contain the shivering. It was abnormal cold in this manor and even the heating system made unholy noises.

A little later, just as the twilight turned to darkness, Tony reached his room for the night. His fingers were shaking- why the hell were they shaking?- when he opened the door. He took a couple steps in and passed mirrors. Why a room needed more than one was beyond Tony. As soon as Tony reached the bed, he shrugged out of his clothes and- there another noise. He shrugged the uneasiness off and laid down. Just as he turned away from the mirror, he caught a glance of his reflection.

Problem was... Tony knew his reflection. And those grey eyes were not his.

Dead plants, resurface, fairy tales - @rebelmeg

"You had one job."

That's all the warning Prince Tony Stark gets before his best friend and Captain of the Guard, Bucky Barnes was flinging a flowerpot at his head. He ducked just in time, and the dead plant thudded to the floor with a shower of dirt and the broken remains of the flowerpot.

"Oh yeah... I was supposed to water that...."

"I WAS ONLY GONE FOR THREE DAYS, HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO KILL IT ALREADY?" Bucky threw his helmet next, and it ricocheted off the wall, narrowly missing Tony as he dodged out of the way.

"I'm sorry! But really, I think you're overreacting! It's just a plant!"

"NO IT'S NOT! That plant was symbolic of a peace treaty between us and the dryads that control the eastern woods!"

"The, uh.... scary woods outside that window there?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Well.... oops?"

Tony didn't plan on having to go on a quest to save his idiot friend from the wrath of the tree spirits, but, well... he's done worse things.

Dirty laundry, unrequited love, curtain - @camichats

Rhodey walked in, paused, and considered walking right back out. Tony was standing on the arms of a chair, lifted up on his tiptoes, doing… something to the curtains. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I spilled coffee on them.”

“So? You’ve got a cleaning service.” Rhodey took a tentative step further in the apartment.

“These are Bucky’s curtains.” He emphasized Bucky’s name like Rhodey didn’t already know who he was from hearing Tony pine over him ever since they became roommates-- or, in one horrific instance, hear Tony basically write an entire erotica based on what he wanted Bucky to do to him after his morning run.

“And?”

“And they were his mother’s and he loves these things more than life itself, so I can’t let him know that I got them dirty because he will hate me, and I can’t wait until the cleaning service comes by because they come here on Wednesday’s and it’s Friday.” He whooped triumphantly when he got them down. “So, all I have to do is stick them in the laundry and put them back up and he’ll never know, and he can go on to hate me for more reasonable things like waking him up in the middle of the night with my music and never doing my half of the dishes.”

Drop dead, hair, just say no - @jamesbuckystark

“Ugh. Your cat just coughed up a hairball on my lap.” Tony shudders.

Bucky laughs. “Sorry. Just chuck it in the trash can. I’m sure Alpine won’t mind that you don’t keep his gift.”

“Excuse me?” Tony looks at him, horrified. “It’s hair. From your cat's

mouth. You take

care of it.”

“C'mon Tones, you won’t drop dead from touching it.”

“Get. It. Off. Me. Now.”

Bucky is now concerned, seeing the rigidity of Tony’s back. “Ok I’ll get it. Do you not like Alpine? If you don’t want me to keep him, you can just say no. I’m sure I can get Becca to keep him for me.”

In which Bucky gets a cat, and Tony’s a little unsure.

Refreshed, cozy night, Earpiece - @rebelmeg

All Tony wanted was a quiet night in. That was it. A nice hot shower, maybe a bath if he was feeling fancy, and his favorite pizza on the couch while he watched the original version of Star War, as nature intended. Unfortunately, he walks out of the bathroom, swathed in a towel and feeling all kinds of refreshed and ready for his cozy night in, to see an earpiece sitting on the bed with a post-it note by it.

"SOS. Need your help. -Bucky"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."

#winteriron discord #three word prompt summary game #fanfic summaries #wi pride week #wi staycation

12 notes · View notes

lizzybeth1986 · 4 years

Note

TF MCs for the ask!

Thanks Anon! Someone else has asked me to do Jade (Kaitlyn MC), so I'll shift hers to that ask and do my other two!

JESSICA:

full name and why I chose it: Jessica Phillip. TF was the first Choices series I ever played, and Jessica was often the name I'd use as a teen for my self-insert stories. So that name was the first that came to mind.

alignment: lawful good

zodiac sign: Leo

favourite movie/TV show: The Crown and the Flame haha.

weapon of choice: that fancy pen she got in The Senior

love interest: James Ashton

sexuality: queer

favourite holiday: Christmas. Jessie's father loves making homemade fruit wines (not how James' folks have them made, with barrels and cellars and stuff. Mostly in a bharani with fruit and sugar and yeast and spices, like his mother used to make) mid-year so they'll be perfectly ready for the winter season. James was initially nervous about trying it but found himself loving it. Jessie and James always get a bottle to take home.

ideal day: cozy, in front of a fireplace, holding a cup of coffee and reading a book. Preferably she and James are nestled together under a blanket.

dream house: anything that also functions as a mini library lmao

favourite mythological figure: Ganesha, esp that little story about the writing of the Mahabharata where the nib of his pen breaks so he breaks off his tusk (he has the head of an elephant) so he can continue writing. "I aim to be that hardcore of a writer", Jessie tells James once. James backs away slowly.

comfort food: Nutella. Straight from the jar.

description of their favourite outfit: That cute red dress her mum gave her before she left for her London internship

faceclaim:

Amala Paul

MABEL:

full name and why I chose it: Mabel Davis. This one was simple - I've always loved the name and I thought it paired well with Becca.

alignment: lawful neutral

zodiac sign: Sagittarius

favourite movie/TV show: Not exactly a TV show but Buzzfeed Unsolved was pretty high on her list of binge-series'. She loves true crime stories.

weapon of choice: That drink she "accidentally" spilled on Becca as comeback the day they first met

love interest: Becca Davenport. The tension is there all through the last half of Mabel's first year but they only get together when she's in sophomore year.

sexuality: bi

favourite holiday: Easter

ideal day: Mabel's a very social person, so her ideal day would involve meeting and talking to lots of people, going out, having fun, lots of dancing. Adventure sports too!

dream house: Bright colours, warm, lots of scented candles. She's crazy about scented candles!

favourite mythological figure: The Muses.

comfort food: Ghanaian jollof rice

description of their favourite outfit: There was this lovely pink and black dress Becca gave Mabel as a thank-you gift for all her help in The Sophomore. That one remains Mabel's favourite outfit for a long, long time to come.

faceclaim:

Sabina Silverx

#choices mc asks #mc: jessica phillip #mc: mabel davis #the freshman

5 notes · View notes

lessonsfrommadamexmas · 5 years

Note

Ooooh. So good. I'm giving you non shippy ones. Choice is 54 - Roy and Mama!Chris or 29 Riza and Becca (one if my fave brotps). Please.

Thank you so much! From this prompt list (you can still send more, guys!):

54 - Try not to fall this time.

I swear I didn’t see the “29″ there at all so I did 54 for Riza and Becca (and Team Mustang) and only realized it now, sorry. XD

- - - -

Riza was keeping Mr. Fischer company while he set up his camera in the center of the wide room, in front of the parallel bars. She had informed Jean in advance about the plan so he could ask permission to his physiotherapist, Dr. Karen Lambert. That was his big day, after several difficult months he spent trying to regain control of his lower body movements. Major General Mustang, a colonel at the time, couldn’t witness the moment Havoc moved his big toe, as he was waiting his turn to be healed. Thus, the blond man thought he should invite him to his first attempt at standing up by himself.

The General, however, was too busy preparing for the next trip to Ishval, so all he could do was free Hawkeye and Breda, giving them a very important mission: to bring back a photograph. Breda invited Maria Ross, since the three of them became great friends after the Promised Day, and Riza invited Rebecca Catalina, who had called from Central two days prior saying she finally had time to go visit her best friend in the East.

Since Becca wasn’t sure she would make it in time, she asked Riza not to tell anyone she was going, and by now the captain assumed her friend would miss the event. Perhaps it was best to have less people in the room, after all, it was a physiotherapy session and Ross and Breda were already treating it like a military training.

— Now I’m gonna see if you’ve been using the weights I gave you.

— Of course, I have!

— Really? Where are your biceps? Those look like two sticks! — Heymans mocked, although Jean was in excellent shape.

— Are you gonna let those bars defeat you, patient Havoc? — Maria asked sternly.

— No, I won’t! — Jean replied as if he was addressing a superior officer.

— This isn’t very encouraging, guys. — said Dr. Lambert, and Riza realized the woman was worried about things getting out of her control. She seemed to be on their same age range but carry a soul too gentle to the fierceness of the veterans. She leaned towards her patient and continued: — Please take all the time you need and let me know of any discomfort.

— We’re all used to bit of pressure, Dr. Lambert. — the captain stepped up to put the woman at ease, aware that, for Havoc, that would help wonders to build morale.

— It’s fine, don’t worry about them — he smirked at his friends. — It’s just like old days.

— Oh, it’s fine? You think you’re supposed to be fine? — Maria teased.

— No, I’m not!

— You’re right, you’re not. You’re supposed to sweat! — Breda continued.

— Yes, and I will!

— You’re supposed to tire!

— Yes, and I will!

— You’re supposed to hurt!

— No, that’s not quite how physiotherapy works… — the poor civilian attempted to speak out amidst Jean’s determined reply.

But he was already grabbing the metal bars and all she had left to do was give him support to face his mission.

— Is it okay if you move away while we take the picture? — Maria demanded with a disarming grin.

— That’s not a good idea…

— I’ll just stand here, I can do it. — Havoc reassured her. — Now. I’m ready.

Riza saw the reluctant Dr. Lambert release her patient and informed the man behind the camera:

— Prepare for the countdown.

— All set? — he checked with a thumbs up. — Three, two…

— Hi, guys! Am I late? — Rebecca announced herself as soon as she opened the door, waving at them with a big cup in her hand.

Havoc gasped and his right hand slipped from the bar the moment the flashlight doubled the whiteness in the room. Next thing they saw was Havoc sprawled on the floor, groaning like he had fallen face first. Riza and Maria jolted in shock.

— Oh, no! — Rebecca shouted running towards him. — Are you okay, Jean? I’m so, so sorry.

She knelt by his side while Dr. Lambert and Breda tried to take him back to his chair.

— See? This is why I said it was a bad idea to leave him by himself. — lamented the woman with a sigh, seemingly disappointed at herself.

Jean, on the other hand, was a mix of confusion and absolute shame.

— Rebecca? What are you doing here? How did you know… ?

— I wanted to visit Riza, but that doesn’t matter, is your chin broken? Here, I have milkshake — she pushed the cup against his red chin —, I hope this helps.

Riza saw him cringe and press his back against the wheelchair, but his face quickly relaxed at the numbing sensation.

— Not bad at all. Can I have this for a minute?

— Sure, I’ll hold it for you.

— I still have two functioning arms, Rebecca. — he stated in an attempt to dismiss her concerns.

— Of course! I’ll be with Riza, then.

Maria proceeded to apologize to the physiotherapist for all that chaos while Heymans tagged along with Becca.

— Hey, what about the picture? Should we try again? — he asked Mr. Fischer.

— Forget about it, I won’t take pictures with my face like this! — shouted Havoc.

— No more photos, we’re going to start the session as soon as Mr. Havoc feels better and I gotta ask you to leave. — the doctor gave her ultimatum.

— Here it is, if only one second earlier… — Mr. Fischer apologized.

— Alright, we have nothing to worry about, the picture looks great! — Breda informed the others, hiding his sarcasm under muffled giggles as he prepared to join Havoc once again.

The photo was a disaster, although it was a perfect illustration of that day. Jean’s wide eyes and clenched teeth showed the exact moment the man realized that he was about to meet the ground. A pitiful smile appeared in Riza’s lips. The man was strong and his stance was firm. Becca’s entrance had been slightly flamboyant, but nothing compared to the harsh words inflicted by Heymans and Maria. Not enough to spook him. Had it been her unexpected presence? Had the girl shaken his confidence?

— It’s hilarious, but he’s gonna hate it. — Rebecca’s said in a low, sympathetic voice. — Are we really keeping it?

— My mission was to register Havoc’s first standing up and I consider it accomplished. The general will be delighted. — She turned to the photographer and handed him the payment. — Thank you very much for your services, I’ll see you out.

The man nodded and left.

Becca gave Riza a hug as soon as she closed the door.

— I’m so glad the Fuhrer gave me a break for once! I missed you.

— I missed you too.

— Hey, don’t go yet, girls, you can stay for my next attempt! — they heard Havoc call.

— Try not to fall this time. — Riza shouted back with a smile. — No more cameras to intimidate you here.

But she knew very well the camera was not to blame, and by their exchange of looks, so did he.

— No more cameras and no more noise. Everybody give him space and stay quiet, understood? — the doctor ordered as harshly as she could. — I’m the one you should obey here.

— Yes, sir! — the soldiers replied in unison.

Karen Lambert shook her head and laughed. No one was willing to take her seriously that day, but the truth is that everybody was beyond happy with their friend’s accomplishment, and it seemed to Riza that she could understand.

— He looks so lively. — Becca pointed softly. — And he got himself a nice physiotherapist, didn’t he? I bet he’s already all about flirting.

— He tried once. I can’t tell for sure if she corresponded, though.

— Well, if anything, I just gave him a hand on that. Now she’s being extra careful and touchy. — she spiced her words with a suggestive tone and a wink.

— She’s been extra careful about doing her job right, thanks to the traumatic work day we just gave her. Still, I don’t think he’s interested anymore.

Rebecca was so absolutely clueless. The woman was able to believe her own lies and also a master at not letting herself suffer. She genuinely wanted Jean to be happy and that’s why Riza would say nothing else.

— Nope, you said he flirted. I know what you’re doing, don’t. It was never serious and we’re both over it. I only move forward, okay? — she said with a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. — Hey, there he goes!

Jean propelled his body up, hands tightly folded around the metal bars. He exhaled through his mouth and found balance with both feet planted on the floor. He nodded, staring at his own legs, allowing them to take some of the weight his arms were supporting on their own. Dr. Lambert let go of him, and Riza could sense everyone holding their breaths as the seconds passed.

— Congratulations, Jean. — the woman said kindly and his face lit up in awe.

Finally, he dared to look around the room, and his eyes glistened with pride and joy when they searched for one specific pair of dark irises. Shyness invaded him once Jean met his target and he looked away from the radiant Rebecca Catalina, who smiled with both her hands pressed together in excitement.

Riza wondered if it was still up to her to find her best friend a good catch, and if money was still the requisite.

- - - -

OMG this was such a pleasure to write!! Not sure if you like Havolina but I hope you had fun with this ultra messy little piece. It was based on the picture of Havoc in physiotherapy with Breda and Ross shown at the end of the manga. :D

#fanfic prompts #havolina #fullmetal fanfic #team mustang #riza and rebecca #jean havoc

27 notes · View notes

ginnyzero · 4 years

Text

Crafting a Believable Setting

World building. The setting, the place where the story takes place can be just as influential for the mood and tone of your story as the conflict, characters and plot. There are a lot of other blogs with advice and tips and lists and questions enough to make your eyes glaze over. I'm covering the very tip of the iceberg here.

Becca and I have been doing a lot of world building lately for a project we're working on together. In fact, we're so excited about it, we're talking about creating a blog just give newsy/chatty updates about said project. And a huge part of that blog is going to be about the setting of our imaginary world. It means I've been thinking about it a little bit.

The first thing when you're discussing building a world is to decide your genre of story. The type of story is going to set the framework for how the world works (to a certain extent.) A historical romance, a fantasy, a dystopian speculative fiction and science fiction are all going to play with different rules. The genre is going to partially influence the technology of your story, the government, and the visual appearance.

For example, in the Lone Prospect, I decided that I wanted my story to be a science fantasy. The fantasy aspect of my story is the inclusion of werewolves. I use "science" to determine how werewolves change using the ever popular "it's a virus" trope. (Actually, the first werewolf movie was a science gone wrong movie and not a magical curse. The more you know.) And it's partially post apocalyptic, because it is set in the future after there was a huge war and the entire landscape of the world has changed. And it's has science fiction style technology, floating cars and transports that don't rely on propeller engine. There are 'tractor' beams and anti-gravity fields and computers that fit in your ear and project holographically from a pair of glasses in front of you. All of this was determined by the genre, science fantasy.

Whereas, in the Dawn Warrior, I chose to make it a pure fantasy story. The world is a medieval type world with dragons, fairies, and magic and lots of forests. So when it came to trying to define the setting, it wasn't nearly as complicated as the Lone Prospect's world.

The second thing I try to do is only define enough of the setting as the story needs. I love a complicated world as much as the next person. (See Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.) However, I'm writing a book. I'm not making a movie! (Though I'd love a movie of Heathens, that would be hysterical.) There comes a point where I know I'm writing soft science fantasy (or in the Dawn Warrior's case, low fantasy) and I don't have the room or the words for pages and pages of scenery porn. I don't need to know the complicated levels of government or the entire map or what everything looks like because it's not important to the story. I'm not going to be using that information right this minute. There comes a point where you have to stop poking at the world and write the book. If you know what the setting looks like for what you're working on at that moment, stop and get writing.

(Though for the Heathens universe, I'll admit I do know a lot about the setting, because I'm using a teaspoon to empty out a lake in the amount of stories I want to write for it. Let us hope I don't burn out on werewolves making explosions.)

In some cases, the next thing I try to do is define the visual aesthetic of the story. In the Lone Prospect, I knew that I wanted Jasper to bring back memories of the old wild west/small town turn of the 20th century America. Brick buildings that aren't more than four stories high, covered sidewalks, lots of trees and statues in the town square. Little mom and pop shops and restaurants, chain boutiques hidden with hokey wooden signs. I wanted it to feel familiar to readers now and to feel safe. That Jasper is a haven from the craziness of the post apocalyptic world. It's even set in a valley surrounded by 'hills.' But because of this, Jasper is also as much of a cage and prison as it is a place to be safe. It's easy to get comfortable there and ignore the troubles of the outside world. It's not easy to escape and can be put under siege.

Jasper also contrasts with Rapid City, a place with steel and glass skyscrapers and the City, which as even larger buildings and multiple levels of traffic. I wanted to merge the idea of the Core Words on Firefly, the cities in Dredd and to some extent Coruscant from Star Wars.

The visual look of your world and the way you describe it, whether it's clean or dingy or rusted or gleaming can give the reader in a few short words how they should feel about this place you're dropping them into. Should they feel comfortable or edgy or uneasy.

I am not afraid of using real places to base my settings on. We've got a huge world and there are so many beautiful places in it. By using real places with photographs and visits for reference, you can make the setting of your world feel that more tangible and realistic to your reader. And if your setting is in modern or contemporary times, or even to some extent the past, you can use details of the city and it's history, reputation, interesting facts to add spice to your story.

I chose South Dakota for the setting of the Lone Prospect because I've been there. I've seen lightning walking over the golden plains that are dotted with herds of buffalo. I've been to the badlands. I've seen the Black Hills. I have pictures of it. I have emotional memories associated with the area. I know a bit of the history. I try to use that to make my story better.

Then I try to define my tech. Is it science fiction and may I have lasers and tractor beams and guns that set to stun? Or is it fantasy and I have cross bows and ballista and swords for weapons. If it's a historical setting, what era is it in? When did they get gas in that area or electric? What types of things would they use to wash clothes or bake bread? Did they ride horses or where there the bicycles and automobiles? These will add more interesting details to your story. And depending on how 'hard' your science fiction is, (are you Star Wars/Star Trek or are you Asimov?) will determine how much you have to go into how your faster than light or warp drive engine works. (There is a reason I write soft science fiction.)

When I wrote the Lone Prospect, I borrowed from everywhere I could think of to create my world. Taking things that I hoped were coming in the near future and mixing it with things I'd seen in movies and read in other books to try and make a level of technology that felt simultaneously futuristic and realistic to my post apocalyptic setting. My biggest sticking point with making my technology was say, if I got a television show or a movie, could it be done on a lower budget scale.

With the Dawn Warrior on the other hand, it was a pure low fantasy novel without any major battle scenes that would require me to trot out the big medieval weapons. And since Roxana buys her bread already baked, I didn't really need to think too much about technology. (Though I know a bit about medieval technology.)

Lastly, at least for this world building post, I tend to think about the government. Granted, I don't write dystopian stories. If you write dystopian fiction then the government and how it affects the culture will probably be the first thing you think about, see the Hunger Games, Divergent, or the Handmaiden's Tale for examples. However, I don't write that type of fiction and I need to know what type of government I have in a general sense to know how it's going to affect my characters. Is it a monarchy? Is there a king? Is it a republic or a democracy? Will there be voting? Who can vote? What types of laws are there that my characters may or may not be breaking?

Another instance where knowing about the government is handy is if the story revolves around the government and politics itself. (This is where the prequels of Star Wars went wrong. The story was about politics and the fall of the Republic and we were off watching pod races.) Who are the movers and shakers in the system? What are the political alliances and how are they shown? There are a lot of both political power maneuvering and personal stories and conflicts that can be written if the story revolves around the people in power and the government. Honor Harrington is a good example of how a story can be written around politics.

This is a good general start to building a setting for your story. After this it is thinking about culture and putting in characters. (Culture is probably a post to itself!) I think the most important thing to remember is to only flesh out as much of the setting as you need to write the book. The book isn't going to write itself!

#wrtblr #writblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing settings #settings #world building #writing world building

6 notes · View notes