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7-wonders · 3 years

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Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)

Summary: Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Well, two people sent me asks saying that they liked the Beauty and the Beast AU, and as I am a whore for validation, I wrote an idea I had a while back. Thanks, friends!

Thunderstorms are not something that Duncan Shepherd is very fond of. While many children have a fear of storms, Duncan was not one of those children. He loved to hear the tremendous crash of thunder, counting the seconds between that and the crackle of lightning across the sky to see how many miles away the storm was. For Duncan, storms meant his mother would read him stories until he fell asleep, faking that he was frightened just so she would spend time with him. As a child, Duncan actually enjoyed storms.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, thunderstorms conjure memories of the night where his life went to hell. When the winds begin to rage and the house shakes with the force of thunder, when rain demands to be heard and lightning lights up the night, Duncan flinches with the worry that she might be waiting on the other side of the door. After all, the witch who cursed Duncan and his entire household darkened his life on a dark and stormy night. Maybe the forced transformation into a beastly creature, being trapped on the grounds of the secluded manor with a now-invisible staff, and the reminder that he will die unless he manages to fall in love with somebody, and have that somebody fall in love with him wasn’t enough for her.

Staying in one spot is making him nervous, and he wants to make sure that, on the off-chance the Enchantress does decide to come back for him, she can’t catch him by surprise. Duncan begins to walk up and down each of the halls of the manor, checking doors and windows and only slightly flinching at a particularly loud boom of thunder. It’s worth it though, for the peace of mind that this security check provides him.

It’s when Duncan reaches the main floor that all senses are on high alert. There’s music playing from somewhere, actual music. Battery-operated devices had long since died, and electronics could not be charged, which meant that the staff was eventually unable to listen to music, their one lifeline to the outside world that they had once been a part of. When that day arrived, it came as a relief to Duncan, who loathed the tunes and melodies that haunted and teased him. Now, for there to be more than the quiet humming coming from the staff, music surely meant trouble.

He begins to follow the sound down the hall, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a glowing aura. Eventually he reaches the library, where the source of the music is coming from. However, it’s not a witch that’s set up a perfectly-planned trap and is deviously waiting for Duncan to come to her. Instead, it’s a record player. He’s not sure where the record player came from, but it’s hooked up and spinning a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. You’re on your back next to it, reading a book in front of the fire.

Duncan didn’t think that he was going to go any further into the library, but his legs have a mind of their own. It’s only when you look at him before sitting up that he now realizes he’s halfway into the room.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, turning the volume down on the record player. “I can leave, if you’re wanting to use the library.”

“No!” Duncan realizes that sounded a little forceful, so he clears his throat and tries it again. “No, you’re fine. I just...heard music playing, and it’s been so long since we had music here that I was trying to find the source. Where did you get the record player from?”

“I was bored and looking through closets, and I found this and a bunch of records.”

“And out of all of the records you found, you had to pick Fleetwood Mac?”

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Stevie Nicks.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, and Duncan thinks that he might actually smile. The beginnings of a rare smile are thwarted, however, when an unexpected clap of thunder makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Of course, you notice the grimace on his face.

“You don’t like storms?”

Duncan looks into the fire, not used to somebody looking at him for any amount of time. “Not really, no. Bad experience in the past.”

You nod in understanding, and Duncan believes this is the end of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s not. “My dad would always tell me that storms weren’t meant to be weathered alone. We would spend thunderstorms together, playing games or watching movies, sometimes even just sitting together, and suddenly, the storms wouldn’t be so bad.”

Duncan hums in acknowledgement, not quite sure what you’re getting at. You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Come and sit with me,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Out of all the things that Duncan had been expecting from you, this was not that. It takes a minute for his brain to cooperate, but he does finally sit down on the couch. It’s not exactly “sitting with you,” but you won’t argue with this. “Is...is this okay?”

“I’m the one that invited you in here, aren’t I?”

“You did.” A long time ago, he would have never been so shy and unsure of himself. If Duncan then were to meet the man beast that he had become, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“An actual question, smartass, not just permission to ask a question.”

Duncan smirks, but nods. “Why did you save me? That night where I tried to run away, you could have just let me die. That would have solved a number of your problems, but you didn’t let me die. Why?”

How was Duncan supposed to answer this question without sounding like even more of a creep? After all, he couldn’t exactly say that he saved you because you were his last chance to even potentially break the curse and save his life. Even then, he knew that this wasn’t the full answer. Truthfully, he saved you because, for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. It was a split-second decision, and one that had a multitude of reasons behind it.

In the end, he settles for the very beginning of the truth.

“You selflessly gave up your freedom so your friend could have his. I couldn’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” You don’t look extremely satisfied with that answer, but it’s good enough that you don’t ask for further elaboration. “What about you? Why did you give up your freedom for Jim’s?”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re playing 20 Questions now, are we?” With a sigh, you stand up. “I’m gonna need some alcohol for this.”

Duncan has not enjoyed himself like this in a very long time. He’s had so much fun learning about you, from the mundane like your favorite color, to the introspective like if aliens really do exist. Likewise, he’s found himself opening up to you as well. 20 questions had turned into 40, which turned into so many that he’s lost count. With each question you took a sip of wine, leading to personal space becoming nonexistent and your body becoming boneless, that is, you were now lying right up against him and giggling. You aren’t drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy, and the wine has given you a warmth in your veins that heats you up against him.

Most importantly, and something that Duncan won’t note until later that night when he’s alone and missing your warmth, is that the storm hasn’t bothered him since he started talking with you.

“You’re tired,” Duncan states, looking at the way your blinks last longer and longer.

“A little, but ‘m okay. Besides, we’re talking.”

“You should go to bed.” His hand pauses at the last second, and he jarringly realizes that he was about to stroke your hair.

You nod, clumsily sitting up and trying to get your bearings after dozing. Duncan stands with you, beginning to walk with you to your room. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to decide the floor makes a good bed.”

You chuckle. “Y’know, you try to act like you’re a scary guy, but you’re not. You’re actually really thoughtful.”

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Now, he almost regrets walking you to your room, the door of which you’ve now reached. He stands a respectable distance away, ready to slip off back to his wing and wallow in solitude for the night. “I want to ask you one more question.”

“And what question is that?”

“What’s your first name? Nobody ever says it.”

He could choose to ignore your question, or tell you that that’s something he likes to keep private. He doesn’t feel like he deserves a first name anymore. First names are for people who aren’t monstrous beings cursed by a vengeful witch. But you’re looking at him with a waiting smile, and you’ve both shared so much tonight.

You think this question is a lost cause as the silence continues to stretch on. As you start to turn the doorknob open, ready to mumble apologies, he speaks.

“My name is Duncan.”

You turn around, grinning, and for the second time tonight, the warmth with which you look at him almost takes his breath away. “Goodnight, Duncan.”

Duncan wishes you goodnight as well, waiting until the door shuts before finally going back to his wing. In the empty study that he used to use, the enchanted rose, which wilts more and more each day and continues to lose petals, glows with a long-forgotten hope.

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x you #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd x reader #beauty and the beast au #hoc #hoc imagine #house of cards

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shedobewritingalittle · 4 years

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Happy Birthday (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve finds himself at his teammate’s themed birthday party and he can’t help but notice how she is dressed for the event.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Unprotected sex. Steve isn’t super innocent. Oral sex, fingering. Penetration. Some choking

A/N: I literally wrote this as a birthday present to myself because I have 0 shame.

Steve didn't understated why he couldn't stop looking at Y/N. Well that was a lie. He knew why he was staring at her, but he didn't know why he liked what she was wearing. It was her birthday and Tony had decided to throw a costume party. Steve usually would have tried any excuse to get out of an event like this, but since it was Y/N's birthday, he knew he had to come. Natasha had told him what to wear-Hell she practically dressed him. Told him that she had dressed him like "a greaser", whatever the hell that means. Everyone around him was in various costumes, but his eyes were focused on the birthday girl.

He has seen Y/N in everything. Steve's seen her dressed up to nines for some gala they were forced to, covered head to toe in brands that were unreasonably expensive. He's seen her in her suit during missions, covered in blood, grime, and so much more. He has seen her in t-shirts that she stole from her teammates as she sat in the kitchen, yelling at Sam and Bucky for annoying her. No matter what she is wearing, Steve always thinks Y/N is the prettiest woman in the entire world.

His teammate was currently dancing with Natasha and Wanda. She was dressed in shortest plaid skirt (if you could even call it that) that was riding up more and more with every move she made, showing off a hint of red that was hiding underneath. The white button up shirt what she had on was completely unbutton and tied right under her chest, but it did nothing to cover the bright red lacy bra. Steve's eyes dropped down to the white thigh high socks and the black heels she was wearing. Her Y/H/C hair was pulled into two ponytails, each tied with a bright red ribbon. She always looks gorgeous, but right now? Y/N was going to be the death of him.

"You keep staring at her, she's going to notice." Sam speaks up beside him Steve turns his head to look at his friend and his ridiculous costume-if you'd even call it that. He was wearing a cowboy hat, a fake suede vest over his bare chest, and a pair of jeans. Steve shook his head, taking a sip of lukewarm beer that was never going to get him drunk. The blonde wished he had some of Thor's Asgardian mead so he wouldn't feel like the babysitter at this party.

"Howdy to you too." Steve retorts and Sam chuckles. They both watched as Y/N laughed with Wanda and Natasha, her head tossed back and a smile stretched across her face. Steve felt his heart skip a beat when she looked towards him and Sam. Wanda leaned forward, whispering something in Y/N's ear which made her laugh again. Steve's cheeks burn as he starts to worry that they're talking about him.

"Why don't you just talk to her, Steve? She obviously likes you." Sam tells him, like he does every time he catches Steve staring at Y/N. Steve sighs, wiping a hand over his face before looking back at Sam.

"I don't know, Sam. I just don't want screw up what we have right now." The super soldier tries to explain and Sam just shakes his head in response. He's about to open his mouth to speak when someone clears their throat. Someone is standing on the other side of Sam.

"Hey boys. Sammy, do you mind...?" Y/N asks, leaning forward slightly so she can look at both men. Her E/C eyes focus on Steve as she bites her red painted lips. Fuck.

"No I do not, pretty lady. Happy birthday by the way." Sam responds, smiling at the two of them. Y/N nods, smiling at him. He pats Steve on the back, winking at his friend before walking away. Y/N and Steve watch as he walks up to a group of women, calling out "Hey ladies! You wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy?"

"I bet you five dollars he's going to go back to his room alone tonight." Y/N murmurs to Steve, leaning in so he can hear her over the music. Steve chuckles and can't stop his eyes from glancing further south. Steve swallows hard, looking back at her face.

"You think so? Is he trying too hard?" Steve questions, easily starting a conversation with his teammate even though his heart is pounding his chest. Y/N laughs, taking the beer from his hands. It's something she always does, taking his food or drink rather than to get his own. The man usually thinks it's cute and doesn't mind, but this time it's a little different. Steve's mouth goes dry as he watches her red lips wrap around the amber colored bottle. He focuses on how she tilts the bottle upwards, her chin lifting slightly. It's like Steve's looking at her neck for the first time in his whole life. A dozen different thoughts appear in his mind and each one was surely going to send him to hell.

"Way too hard." She answers, licking her lips. Steve watches her movements, thinking that she has to know what she's doing to him. Y/N looks up at him and adds, "Stevie, do you realize that this beer is warm? Like gross warm?"

"No one told you to drink it, doll." Steve retorts as he takes back the beer, momentarily snapping out of his impurethoughts. God, he loved how she said that little nickname she had for him, loved how it rolls off her tongue. Y/N rolls her eyes, leaning against the bar he was also leaning on. Steve was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, watching as she looks out to the rest of the party. Her party.

"Did I catch your attention tonight, Captain Rogers?" She all but purred, keeping her attention forward. Steve blushes, suddenly unable to speak. Captain Rogers. Jesus fucking Christ. He was fucked.

"I-I-am so sorry. I shouldn't have. That's incredibly ina-" Steve rambles but Y/N quickly cuts him off. She's smirking at him.

"It was a gamble, this costume. I didn't know what would catch your eye more. I decided that a schoolgirl outfit never seems to fail. So many men want to fuck something so innocent and pure." Y/N explains, moving to stand in front of him, forcing Steve to look at her. Y/N is far from innocent, they both know that. She's looking up at him through her lashes, "And I think I did a good job. What do you stay, Cap? You like it?"

"I-I like it. You look....pretty." Steve carefully chooses his words, trying to keep his eyes on her face. However, he's human and his eyes keep slipping. Steve wonders if today is actually his birthday and Christmas rolled into one. Y/N smiles at him and his mouth turns into Death Valley. Steve gulps down his beer, almost forgetting that her mouth had been wrapped around the glass last. He looks down at her and feels brave as he asks, "You wore this for me, doll?"

"Just for you, Steve." She replies, her eyes not leaving his. With this sudden, new-found courage, Steve reaches up to wipe a droplet of beer Y/N missed with his thumb. Instead of pulling his thumb away, Steve instead swipes it across her cherry red lips. He doesn't breath as Y/N wraps her lips around his thumb, her eyes on Steve's. Blood rushes to a different part of his body as her tongue swirls around his thumb before she realizes it with a soft 'pop'.

Steve was going to hell.

He presses his lips against hers, pulling her against his body. His large hands rest on her practically bare hip and on the small of her back. One of Y/N's hands immediately flies to his face as she kisses him back, the other resting on his white t-shirt covered chest, taking a fistful of the fabric. It's something they have both been waiting for, mostly likely since they've met each other. Y/N pulls away from his lips, looking up at him. His heart is racing, seemingly pounding against his rib cage. Steve's glad that they're slightly hidden from the party because it seems like it's him and her.

"Steve, why don't we go to your room? Don't think you want to be doing all of this in front of our coworkers." She murmurs to him, smirking up at him.

"Can you leave? I mean it's your party." Steve questions as he looks to the comically large cake in the corner of the room that's situated next to a table overfilling with presents.

"Exactly. It's my party, so I can leave whenever I want." She replies as he looks back at her, "So are we going to go to your room or are you going to make stay here?"

Steve couldn't trust what would coming out of his mouth, so he just nodded. Y/N took his hand and led them both towards the elevator. He watched her swaying hips, the little skirt seemingly riding up with every step. A million thoughts raced through Steve's head as they stepped into the elevator. He felt like he was dreaming. Never in a billion years did Steve ever think that this would happen.

"You know that I just don't want you for..." Steve starts, not being able to fully finish his sentence. He was scared, worried that she wouldn't return his feelings. He didn't want to ruin their friendship, make things awkward and between them, but he needed to make his intentions clear. The doors slid shut in front of them and they were greeted by their distorted reflections. Y/N leaned forward, hitting the button for his floor. She looks up at him, leaning against the cool metal wall of the elevator.

"I know, Steve. Then I should let you know that I'm also not here to simply have an one night stand." Y/N replies as she walks over to him. He can feel his cheeks getting hot and his heart starts to race again. Steve wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. The two of them smiled as they look at each other.

They were smart enough to know not to continue while inside the elevator, because they both knew that little camera in the corner was always rolling. Y/N worked on the pulling the rubber bands and ribbons out of her hair, letting it down as Steve kept his eyes forward. The elevator came to a stop, the soft dinging sounding as the doors slide open. He was the one who took the lead, guiding them out of the elevator and down the hallway. When they came to his dark brown door, Y/N opened it and walked inside in front of Steve.

Steve kept his eyes on her as he walked into the move. He switched on the lights as she turned on her heels, the skirt flaring upwards, showing now what he realized was just her panties. Y/N grinned, knowing exactly what he was looking at. She took it a step further, undoing another button on her barely buttoned shirt, exposing more of the red lace bra. Steve swallows hard, taking off of the leather jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

"Are you going to keep me waiting like this, Captain Rogers?" She purrs to him. It's the combination of everything that makes something inside of Steve snap. He walks forward, yanking her against him. One of his hands move to rest of on the small of her back while the other moves to cup her cheek. His thumb resting on her lips and she opens her mouth for him. A million more dirty thoughts come to mind.

"Are you going to tell me what you want, birthday girl? Or am I going to have to guess?" Steve was using his Captain voice and all of his words were going straight to her core. He lets go of her face and her hand immediately shoots up, wrapping itself around his wrist. Steve feels like his heart is going to burst through his chest when she moves his hand to her throat.

"I want you to fuck me hard, Captain. Can you do that for me?" Y/N says sweetly, looking at him. Steve swallowed hard, his jeans tightening a little more. He really didn't know how to respond so she just continued talking, "I know you want to, Stevie."

"Y-You sure?" Steve was all talk and he knew that. Suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, too nervous to even look at a girl.

"Rogers, I put your hand around my throat. I am pretty sure that I'm sure. If you aren't, that's okay." There was humor in Y/N's voice as her face softened for a moment, her hand resting on his. Steve was feeling a thousand different feelings all at once. He studied her face, wanting to really make sure that this is what she wanted. Steve Rogers did what he usually did and threw all caution to the wind. It's her birthday and who was he to deny her request?

Steve slams his lips against hers, kissing her roughly. His hand slips away from her throat as he walks her towards the bed. Y/N's legs meet the bed and he pushes so she falls backwards. She bounces slight on the bed, quickly sitting back on her hands. The birthday girl watches as Steve kicks off his shoes and socks, his T-shirt soon joining them on the floor. Y/N licked her lips as her eyes trailed down his body and towards where his hands were working on unbuttoning his jeans. Steve was straining in his pants and they way she was looking at him wasn't helping in the slightest.

"Can I? Please?" She speaks up, her eyes looking up at him. Steve's ready to fall apart right then and there while she looked up at him through her lashes. He just nods in response and she quickly sits up, her hands flying to his thighs. She slowly pulls Steve's pants down his body, being greeting with by his boxers barely restraining his cock. The look she gives him is far from innocent as tugs the fabric down in one single motion. He springs out and her hand immediately wraps around him.

"Fuck, Stevie. You've been holding out on me." She breathes out, looking up at him. Steve doesn't get a chance to respond before her tongue swipes at the precum leaking from his tip. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down to watch her. Y/N looks back at him as she swirls her tongue around his head before taking more of him into her mouth. His hand moves without his brain telling it to and it buries itself in her hair. Somehow, she smirks around him continuing to relax her throat more.

Y/N fucking amazed him.

"Jesus Christ." Steve groans, eyes fluttering shut as she bobbed her head on him. The movement caused him to tug on her hair hard and thrusted into her mouth. Steve's eyes shot open and he was about to apologize, but she simply moaned around him, eyes watering slightly. Jesus fucking Christ. The movement had only spurred her on more and her movements quickened. Steve couldn't see it, but her hand had slipped under the band of her red panties. She was soaking wet and her clit was all but throbbing in need for any sort of attention. Y/N moaned around him again as her finger circled her bundle of nerves.

Steve wasn't a virgin. He hadn't been one since before the war, but with the way she was working him he might as well been. He held her hair in a makeshift ponytail as tried not to thrust into her mouth again. Y/N could tell that he was restraining himself, so she took as much as she could take of him, her free hand moving to cup his balls. The new action made him thrust again into her mouth and she looked up at him, nodding. God, Steve was ready to pull out a ring and propose to her in that moment. Instead, he thrusted into her mouth as carefully as he could, gripping her hair. He only did this a few times before he pulled her off of his cock.

"It's not my birthday, doll." Steve tells her just as she opens her mouth to complain. Her lipstick was smeared all over her face and her mascara was messed up because of how watery her eyes were. He looked down a little further and saw where Y/N's hand currently was. Steve's hand wraps around her wrist, yanking her hand out of her panties. He lifts her hand up to his mouth, licking them clean. She tasted just like candy.

"Steve, I need you so bad." Y/N whined as he pulled her fingers from his mouth. He dropped her hand, pushing her back onto the bed.

"What do you need doll? Use your big girl words." Steve responds as his hands move to rip her shirt apart, the remaining buttons going flying around the room. Y/N's breathing hard as she tries to speak.

"I-I need your cock. I need your cock in me." She manages to get out as he rips her skirt as well, tossing it over his shoulder. Steve never thought he would ever see her like this, which such dirty words falling from those pretty lips. His teammate is laying there, dressed in only a matching red lace bra and panties. Somehow, she still looks like a fucking angel. Y/N knows he is watching her intently as her hand slides behind her, unclasping her bra. She tosses it aside, her nipples hardening almost immediately once it's off.

"Fuck." Steve mutters and Y/N really wants to chide him over his use of the word, but then his mouth is on her skin. Steve's training kisses down her neck, occasionally sucking and biting at her skin. Y/N's hand flies to his hair, tangling her fingers in the dark blonde strands as the kisses go lower. Her hold tightens as he wraps those pretty pink lips of his around her nipple. She arches into his mouth. If that wasn't enough, his hand moves down her abdomen and he pulls her panties to the side. Y/N inhales sharply as his finger seeks out her clit.

"Steve-Fuck." Her moans are like music to his ears. Steve looks up at her as his finger repeats her motions from earlier. He watches as her eyes close, her mouth dropping open as he bites her sensitive skin lightly. Steve suddenly wants to hear her moan his name for rest of his life. Y/N thought he'd be more awkward since he's almost as innocent as Peter, but Jesus Christ, she was fucking wrong. Steve shifts his assault to her other breast as his finger slides a little bit lower, slipping inside of her. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of her, easily adding another.

"You're so wet, doll. Is that all for me?" Steve questions, pulling away from her breast. Y/N moans out, nodding. Her other hand moves to hold onto his shoulder, needing him as close as possible.

"Y-Yes. All for you, Steve-Fuck!" She responds as he quicks the pace of his fingers slightly, his thumb giving attention to her clit. The noises coming from her mouth only get louder, nails digging into skin. Steve keeps his eyes on her as his fingers move a little faster, needing to hear more and more of her little noises. He could watch her fall apart like this for the rest of his life. Steve kisses her breast sweetly, a sharp contrast to what his hand is currently doing.

"You're so soaked for me. I hope you weren't dancing like this in that little skirt. Anyone could've seen." He spurs her on, his fingers curling slightly. Y/N cries out, quickly building towards her orgasm. She knew she want going to last very long with how much she was worked up and how Steve was working her. She couldn't get anything coherent out as her toes curled. Her nails dragged down his back as she arched her back off of his bed, trying to hold onto him. Steve was pressing himself against her leg as he pumping his fingers in and out of her as quickly as he could. He kept his eyes on Y/N as she came, crying out his name as she tugged sharply on his hair.

Steve couldn't help but kiss Y/N as his fingers worked him through her orgasm, her body shaking slightly. Her hand moves to cup his cheek, kissing him back passionately. He pulled his hand away and before she could complain, Steve slipped inside of her. They moaned into each other's mouths. Y/N held onto him as he filled her up completely.

"You're so tight, doll." Steve groans against her mouth, giving her a moment to get used to him before he pulled out and pushed back in. It was almost overwhelming. Y/N was already extremely sensitive and his movements weren’t helping at all. She held onto him as he started to pick up his pace, grunting out, “You feel so good, Y/N.”

“God, Steve.” Y/N cries out, tossing her head back. His hand moves to rest back on her neck, resting his hand lightly on her throat as he picked up his pace. She grinned at him, looking up at Steve. Y/N wrapped her legs around Steve’s hips, more than enjoying the hand around her neck. He knew neither of them were going to last long. Y/N had already worked him up and with how she sounded, he knew she wasn’t too far behind. Steve reaches down his free hand and starts rubbing her clit again.

“You going to come for me again, Y/N? Gonna come all over my cock?” Steve questions, snapping his hips into her. She digs her nails into his skin, gasping as he presses his thumb into the side of her neck. Her walls fluttered around him as she moaned. Y/N was almost there. Steve quickens his movements on her bud as fucks her hard and fast.

“Steve!” Y/N shouts, arching her back off the bed as she comes hard around his cock. Steve holds onto her tightly, lasting only a few more thrusts before he buries himself inside of her, painting her walls as calls out her name. Steve loosens his grip on her neck as he slows his thrusts, trying to ride out their orgasms. Both of them were panting as Steve moves to bury his head in the crook of her neck, his hand pulling away from her throat. Their hearts were beating a thousand miles a minute as Steve moves so he is laying down on the bed and Y/N is laying in his chest.

“Don’t tell Nat, but this is best present I’ve gotten thus far.” She manages to get out, a playful smile on her face. Steve laughs, holding her close. He kisses her slightly sweaty forehead.

“Thanks, doll. Happy birthday, Y/N.” Steve responds, his hand moving up and down her back. She looks up at him, grinning. Even though they just had sex and he was still buried inside of her, Steve blushed. God, he had it bad for her.

“Thank you, Steve. How long do you need before round two?” Y/N questions, her smile turning into a smirk.

God, she was going to kill him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

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sunflowersteves · 4 years

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cheaters never prosper || ch. 1

summary || Steve told you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you but he sure has a funny way of showing it.

author’s note || Based on the song “Sorry” by Beyonce. For the storyline to make sense. Also, I’m sorry to Sharon fans. She’s the only character I can recall with blonde hair. Hope you all enjoy it!

warning || angst, cheating, mentions of sex, asshole Steve, swearing

m.list // ch. 2

Looking at my watch he should’ve been home

Today I regret the night I put that ring on

He always got them fucking excuses

I pray the Lord you reveal what his truth is

You knew that Tony didn’t keep him in the compound offices until 4 AM. Bucky had even told you that Steve was going to head out around 5:00 pm when everyone else does because all he had was paperwork from the last mission. You twirled the wedding ring that clenched around your finger. It almost felt suffocating. You looked back at all those moments he canceled dates or forgot important ones.

Stevie: Sorry, babe. I got caught up with work. I can take you out next Tuesday?

Stevie: Happy Birthday! Sorry, it’s so late. Work kept me up.

Stevie: Happy anniversary! I can’t make dinner tonight but I ordered you flowers.

Stevie: Won’t be home for dinner. Sorry.

Stevie: Don’t wait up. Work.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew about her. Another woman.

You’ve never felt so lonely. It’s hard to even remember the last time he made love to you. But you still remembered. With the memories still engrained, your body burned with the feeling of him. When he would fuck you, it would be so good. Headboard banging against the wall as he pounded straight into you. He used to love the whimpers that came out of your mouth. He used to love the way your skin felt, slapping against his. He used to love aftercare, cleaning you both up then cuddling up into you, legs intertwined. He’d whisper how much he loved you and how he wanted a life with you, a family with you. That’s what he would tell you, anyway.

You shook your head, tears falling down your face making the sheets soaked. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You wanted to stay married, have kids, settle down near the compound. But that’s just a dream. You knew you weren’t the most perfect person. You were stubborn and sometimes hard to deal with but you thought he loved that about you.

Middle fingers up, put ‘em hands high

Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye

Tell him, boy, bye, middle fingers up

I ain’t thinking ‘bout you

“You’re being ridiculous! I’m not cheating on you! How can you not trust me?!” You stopped vigorously washing the dishes and turned your body towards him. “Not trust you? Steve! How can I trust you when you leave the compound at 5:00 pm and not come back until 4:00 am. How can I trust you when you’re never even here?! How can I trust you when Bucky says you’re in one place but you give an excuse of somewhere different. Then, you come home, smelling like perfume! I’m not stupid, you asshole.”

His facade faltered as he knew you were right. He was a cheater. He broke your heart. He knew you would find out eventually. He was such a horrible person. The one thing he didn’t want to do is hurt you but he can see he’s already done that. He messed up and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to fix his mistake this time. “Y/N...Babe, I’m so sorry-”

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, you lying cheating ass.” You lifted up your middle fingers straight into his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this, I’m so sorry.” He tried to get you to stay, to talk to you about all of this, to fix his mistakes. You waved him off, it’s too late for that. “I never meant for it to last this long.” You were just getting more indignant as he kept talking. You didn’t want to break down in front of him either. “I’m leaving. Don’t wait up, asshole.” You grabbed your jacket and your keys and slammed the door behind you. He started to weep, head deep into his hands as he thinks about his choices. Was a little fling really worth destroying his whole marriage?

Now I’m the one that’s lying

And I don’t feel bad about it

It’s exactly what you get

Stop interrupting my grindin’

You were never home as much as he wasn’t before you confronted him. Steve would come home to see the couch, bed, and guest bed empty. He knew he deserved it but he couldn’t help but feel his mistakes weigh in on him. His heart crushed in on itself but he couldn’t even imagine what you felt. What if the roles had been switched?

- -

Most nights you would go to a club near the Upper West Side. Far away from Brooklyn as possible. Far away from him. You had lied to Steve telling him that you and Nat were hanging out. He knew it was a lie. Your tell was an eyebrow twitch and it had, in fact, twitched.

You were grinding on a guy you just met, music pounding into your ears. It had felt nice to not be engulfed by him for once. The guy had told you his name was Sam. He had offered you a drink but you declined, needing to drive home at some point. “Driving? In New York City?” You laughed and explained your situation, having the pleasure of knowing Tony Stark. Sam was very charming, teasing you left and right. He was such a kind person, soft even, and oh so handsome. He stopped dancing and froze, seeing your hands. “You um... Married?” You looked down, your fingers grazed the band. You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes but not falling.

He frowned. He pulled you aside to give you some space from all the dancers. He wrapped an arm around you, shushing you as you cried. “I’m so sorry. I completely ruined your night.” He shook his head and told you how much fun he was having. He told you that you hadn’t ruined anything. As you explained, more tears ran down your face. “He cheated… I know I still have the ring on but part of me… is still attached, you know? I came here to forget about him but... All I can think about is him. It’s silly, I know.” Sam stopped you. “Hey, it’s not silly. It’s not to the same extent, I know, but I had a girlfriend that cheated on me in high school.” “Yeah?” He rubbed his hand up and down your shoulder.

“Yeah, She cheated on me with Brad. She didn’t even tell the guy we were dating.” You both laughed together all night about stories of exes and eventually about each other. You were both getting a little too drunk (you gave in and had a couple of drinks with him) so you decided to leave. “Hey, whenever you drop that dickwad and are ready to date again? Give me a call.” He winked at you and you giggled before you left. You called an Uber, deciding to leave your car at the club for now.

Steve had ended up tracking you from his phone. He told himself that it was for your safety, that he was just checking to see if you were okay. In reality, he was nosy and wanted to see if he if his suspicions were right. (They were).

You walked out of the club with a light smile, Sam’s phone number clutched in your hand. Steve stood in front of you, tapping his feet. “What are you doing here, Y/N? Especially rubbing your ass all over other guys. We’re married!” He knew it was a low blow but he couldn’t help but be angry. He was jealous. “Oh, you don’t get to do that shit. Not with me. I will grind on every single person in there if I want to. As far as I’m concerned, you never have had control over me. And you will never!” He stared at you, wide eyed. “And for the record, you cheated! Not me! Maybe think of that the next time you try and ridicule somebody.” You paused, taking your ring off of your finger. “You know what? Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” You shoved the ring into his hand and sauntered off, not missing the sad guilty look on Steve’s face. “See you at home, Steve.”

I left a note in the hallway

By the time you read it, I’ll be far away

I’m far away

“I’m leaving him.” Bucky sighed as you handed him the note you wrote. He started to read it as a tear rolled down your face. What was Steve thinking? You were fun, smart, kind, and fuck, so beautiful. Hell, Bucky was the first one to hit on you when you introduced yourself to the team. But he knew it wasn’t those attributes. It was Steve. He was insecure that you would leave him for someone who doesn’t go on missions or put your life in danger. He wanted you to leave him for those reasons. He wanted you to be with someone who wasn’t PTSD ridden with nightmares from his past. It was his own insecurities that clouded his mind and made him act out on them. It had nothing to do with you. Both him and Bucky knew that. Bucky just wished he would have talked to you instead of putting his dick in another woman.

Bucky nodded. “Good. I think leaving him is the right choice. Nat and I have agreed to offer you to stay here as long as you need it. Never think you’re alone in this, Sugar.” You hugged him and thanked him greatly. You knew without Bucky and Nat, you would be struggling even more. The thought of support made your heart soar. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you? Tell you after the first time that it was just a mistake. But it’s too far now. You didn’t even know how long this has been going on. Honestly? You didn’t really want to know. Too long, was the answer.

Tears flowed down your eyes and down your chin. “Oh... Honey… It’s alright.” You barely heard Bucky, too engrossed in your thoughts. “Why me? Why did he do this to me? What’s so wrong with me that he-” Bucky enveloped you into a big hug, Nat came into the room once she heard crying. She and Bucky share a knowing look. She knelt down in front of you and spoke softly. “Honey, you know it’s not you. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve anything that puts you in harm’s way, you’re too pure. You shine brighter than anyone, Y/N. Always remember that.” Nat wiggled her eyebrows. “And who knows? Maybe that Sam guy will be the one!” You rolled your eyes at her but nevertheless giggled.

You laid in Bucky and Nat’s guest bedroom, you couldn’t sleep with all of the thoughts running through your head. You didn’t want to leave Steve. Especially after three years of marriage but you knew it was time. It was time to move on with your life. Time to let go of a life you can’t have. Of a person, you can’t have.

He only want me when I’m not there

He better call Becky with the good hair

“Do you love her?” “I-I.. I don’t know. I love you, Y/N.” Your face immediately turned into a scowl. “No. You don’t get to fucking do that. I will not sit here and let you say you love me when you don’t. Maybe you did at one point but you cannot truly love someone if you fucked another person. You’re despicable, Rogers.”

That hit him like a train. You hadn’t called him Rogers since you met him at the compound. It felt like his heart had stopped beating. “Y/N, please… Can we talk about this?”

“I hope she treats you well, Rogers. Better call Sharon now so she can pick your sorry ass up. In your eyes? Nobody can beat a Carter.” You picked up the last bit of your boxes and left the room, shutting the front door with your foot. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you drove away, looking at that house just one more time.

Steve had the note clutched in his hand, getting tears all over the paper. He didn’t care though. All Steve can hear is the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and your car driving away. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He didn’t know what he had until it was gone. But he should know that cheaters never prosper.

chapter two

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

Text

Farewell to Spooky Season, AHS Style: Lookbook no.12

Hi to anyone reading,

Happy belated Halloween!

I capitalise it because if I'm gonna recognise any day as sacred, it’s the spookiest one of the year! Halloween 2020 obviously hasn’t been as exciting as usual, parties and club nights being banned has meant there’s been far less opportunities to dress up, but I still managed to get out for the night before they announced the upcoming second lockdown and do a couple of spooky movie nights (and carve a pumpkin!)!

I originally intended for this lookbook to be last minute halloween costume inspo but I was lazy and didn’t manage to get it out on time-a lot of these looks minus the makeup and maybe an accessory or two could work on any day or night out so I thought I’d go ahead and post it now anyway. Celebrating the fashion moments of American Horror Story is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it’s probably not the first show you’d think of for sartorial inspiration but Mr. Ryan Murphy has fucking fantastic taste in stylists and the first five seasons of AHS in particular, which I’ll be focussing on in this post, have given us SO many amazing looks. The man may be guilty of many things-subjecting us to the character of Will Schuester, trying to turn Richard Ramirez into a thirst trap, embarrassing everyone who raved about how good Scream Queens was when he wrote season 2-but costume related laziness is not one of them. We see more consistency in a Ryan Murphy character’s wardrobe than we do in their story arcs and I respect that because honestly, as much as I love joining in when it comes to ripping into his ability to cohesively bring an AHS season to a close when it airs, I’d probably be the same; if you put Lady Gaga in front of me and told me to write her lines I’d probably end up getting overly invested in what her character was going to be wearing in the scene too.

So! Enough Ryan Murphy bashing from me! I’ll get on with it! Starting with 3 season 1 inspired looks:

Murder House: Elizabeth Short, Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon

-striped jumper from caitlinlark on Depop, kick flare jeans from ellagray-

When it comes to reflecting on season 1 of American Horror Story, all I can say do is thank the internet overlords that Tumblr has moved on from the romanticising school shooters and wearing normal people scare me tops phase to instead collectively taking the piss out of the “GO AWAY, TATE!”, “YOU’RE ALL THAT I WANTTT! YOU’RE ALL THAT I HAVEEE!” exchange.

In terms of fashion *moments*, whilst season 1 doesn’t stand out as much as the seasons that come after, Violet and Tate’s wardrobes did give birth to a bit of a 90s grunge renaissance with their oversized knits and faded jeans and layering of textures. It did also give us good costumes in the form of Alexandra Breckenridge’s Moira O’Hara and Mena Suvari’s portrayal of the Black Dahlia, Elizabeth Short; unfortunately, I didn’t have a slutty maid costume lying around so I did the best I could at giving the outfit Elizabeth wears when she makes that fateful visit to the Murder House a modern, more party appropriate update.

In terms of season rankings, Murder House isn’t my favourite. It starts off really great but lulls a bit towards the end and I could never get behind Violet and Tate as a couple because you know, one of them is a school shooter who sexually assaults the other’s mum, and that’s a hurdle that I think most couples might struggle to get over irl. That being said, it was the season that started it all and showcased some of the most innovative writing and directing on TV, and it opened up a spot for horror on primetime television which as far as I know was kind of unheard of before then. Back when I first watched it, I had no idea what to expect not only because I’d never seen horror in a serial format but also because it seemed to be able to get away with the kind of storylines you’d expect network executives to fire people over. It introduced us to Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson and Evan Peters and Denis O’Hare who would go on to make the show what it is today and more importantly, through Jessica’s glorious portrayal of Constance Langdon, provide us with an endlessly versatile meme format for this trying time.

Asylum: ‘60s Lana Winters, ‘70s Lana Winters, and Sister Mary Eunice McKee

-afghan coat from louisemarcella on Depop, red AA skater dress from julietramage, pink gingham co-ord from zshamim-

I think we can all agree: Asylum would’ve been a perfect series of television if it wasn’t for the completely unnecessary alien storyline. Like, I get that they fit in with the whole good vs. evil theme as a kind of non-biblical alternative to the idea of a higher, all-powerful being but there was already so much going on that it just wasn’t needed. Aside from that, I think the general consensus amongst watchers of the show is that Asylum has the best writing of any season and I think I’d tend to agree. It’s not my favourite because it’s too depressing to rewatch but if we’re talking the first time round, this is the series that had me hooked. Lana Winters?

Iconic.

Sister Mary Eunice? Iconic. The Name Game? Iconic. Remember when you couldn’t go a day on Facebook without seeing that one photo of Naomi Grossman as Pepper used as the go to “what I really look like” photo in one of those “expectation vs. reality” style posts on your newsfeed? Those were simpler times.

Because this season was mostly situated within the hospital, we didn’t get that many proper outfits but when we did, they were stunning; if I had to state my absolute favourite AHS character of the entire show I’d probably go with Lana Winters and the part her wardrobe played in her characterisation would 100% play a part in that. The late 60s/early 70s was such a wonderful period for fashion and through her character we get to see both of those explored a little. Of course there’s also *that* Sister Mary Eunice scene with the red slip dress and suspenders too which yes, could be a perfect halloween costume, but I also strongly believe should be a perfectly acceptable outfit for any day of the year.

Coven: Misty Day, Madison Montgomery, and Zoe Benson

-chiffon dress from rags_to_riches on Depop, pinstripe corset from hanpiercey, and tennis skirt from mollie_morton-

I hate to be a basic bitch but I have to say it: Coven is my favourite season of American Horror Story. Once you get over the complete waste of Evan Peters’ acting capabilities that resulted from the *choice* to have him play Kyle, the unnecessary rehash of the Evan/Taissa pairing from season 1 in what I can only assume was an attempt to capitalise on the popularity of the questionable Tate/Violet relationship, and the subsequent sacrifice of any interesting character arc we could’ve foreseen for Zoe Benson beyond her obsessing over a resurrected, non-verbal frat boy, it’s a perfect season. A supreme (heh) balance of horror, humour, and character drama, as well as the stunning aesthetics and forever quotable dialogue, make it my go-to season if I’m ever considering a rewatch. And if you disagree, let me jog your memory with the most mainstream (not to get all “normal people scare me” and suggest AHS is not a mainstream show, I literally just mean in the sense that even those who have never watched the show will have seen this) reaction GIF set any FX show has even spawned:

Buzzfeed employees had a field day, Emma Roberts enthusiasts (I mean me) finally saw her cemented as the pop culture icon Scream Queens has since showed us she deserves to be (because not enough people have seen Unfabulous, Nancy Drew or Scream 4) and the gays everywhere rejoiced at the year’s worth of meme fodder they’d been provided with. It was Madison Montgomery’s world and we were truly just living in it.

And the fashion! I mean, Stevie Nicks meets 21st century teenage witches! Come on!

Freakshow: Dandy Mott, Maggie Esmerelda and Elsa Mars

-olive green satin skirt from morganogle on Depop, headscarf from tonijordan, platform sandals from elliefewt, PVC skirt from bethpin_, corset top from sadieflinter, beret from house_of_erotique, flame detail platform boots from mad_rags_vintage-

When people talk about the declining quality of AHS, they usually point to Freakshow as the beginning of the end, but I have to completely disagree. I wasn’t a fan the first time round but on rewatch it’s probably the most emotional season of them all; no, there aren’t as many “horrifying” moments as in other seasons and Elsa is probably Jessica’s worst performance (which is still an incredible one by anybody else’s standards), however it makes up for it with the most sympathetic bunch of characters yet, and on the flip side, also one of the most amusingly depraved with Finn Wittrock’s Dandy Mott. Fans usually argue that the season went downhill once *SPOILER* Twisty the Clown was killed off but for me, he really primarily served as the catalyst for the far more interesting devolution of Dandy, who, imo, is the show’s strongest villain to date, rivalled only by Bloody Face. Then there was the episode Orphans too which made me cry buckets, the sole AHS episode to do so.

We got a lot of great fashion content in this season too: the theatrical opulence of Elsa Mars’ wardrobe, “Maggie”’s nomadic fortune teller costumes, and all those twee suits we saw Finn Wittrock in. Highly underrated if you ask me. It seems an odd choice for me to use Elsa’s Dominatrix look as an inspiration for one of my looks here when we have that Life on Mars performance outfit and all the extravagant robes Jessica got to waltz around in for reference buuuut I didn’t really have anything to do the vibrancy of either of those justice so I went with the black leather option which is much more me. Am I saying I moonlight as a dominatrix? Maybe. Lol, no. I wish. It’s not for lack of trying. WHERE ARE ALL THE GENUINE TWITTER PAYPIGS AT!? Your girl wants to insult creepy men and get some new clothes out of it xoxo

Hotel: Hypodermic Sally, Liz Taylor, and The Countess

-silk white bralet from xlibby_maix on Depop-

Hotel is another season that I liked a lottttt more upon rewatch, once I knew I was okay to tune out the (completely predictable and utterly nonsensical) Ten Commandments Killer storyline that so much of the season initially seems to hinge on. I love Chloë Sevigny but the fact that her and Wes Bentley’s wooden John and Alex Lowe are positioned as the protagonists at the expense of the far more interesting Liz Taylor, James March and Hypodermic Sally really does a disservice to what is an otherwise great season upon initial viewing.

The visuals this season are magnificent and I think if I had to pick one character’s wardrobe to steal from the entire cast of AHS characters, it would be The Countess (a toss up between her and Misty Day tbh, so I kinda just settle for low-key channelling both). No fucking idea where I'd wear any of her clothes to but I’d make it work. Liz Taylor and Hypodermic Sally have some amazing looks too-there’s just honestly so much to choose from; that being said, this post wouldn’t be complete without a specific ode to the vampire goddess Elizabeth Bathory, who is everything I want to be in life minus the murderous qualities:

Everything. EVER-Y-THING. LOOK AT HER!

Lady Gaga is really a fucking goddess isn’t she. And people were claiming before they’d even seen it that she couldn’t act? A patriarchal society doesn’t like women that can do it all. Just saying.

Anyways!

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed the post if you did read til the end! Sorry I couldn’t get this out before Halloween, I was typing and Picmonkey-ing madly from 2 in the afternoon on the 31st but I taking fucking forever to get ready and had to abandon all hope of getting it out on the day by 4PM. I’ve got so much content planned and it sucks because a couple of them are lookbooks which now feel completely redundant given we’re heading into a second lockdown, but maybe I should just do it anyway? The grunge inspired moodboard I just did seemed to get a good reception too so I’ve got some more of them planned.

As always, hope everyone is keeping well, and feel free to inbox me with any suggestions, queries or even just to say hi if you need someone to talk to! I check here quite a lot so I should see it. Lots of love to everyone in this time!

Lauren x

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fallinfromasnowytrain · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes Loves Dogs

Summary: following Bucky throughout life as he wants a dog.

For: @falcon-chill. It’s been simply lovely to talk with you over anon, and I loved writing this. I’m excited to chat off anon now and get to know you better! Much thanks to @nottodaylogic who helped me with writing this and @metalbvcky who set this all up! A very happy holidays to you all!

Bucky Barnes had always wanted a pet.

A PET was the first thing written on every birthday list, right before toy soldiers or gum or whatever new thing he wanted that year.

Once for Halloween, he got a baby sister. He didn’t know you were supposed to get presents at Halloween.

Around his seventh birthday, he asked his dad why he never got a pet. Pa had ruffled his hair and laughed.

“You’ve got enough brothers and sisters, Jamie. Isn’t that good, bud?”

He’d just mumble “sure”, not wanting to upset his Ma who’d made his brothers and sisters.

When he lived with Steve in their own little apartment, he still wanted a pet.

Both of them knew it was impossible. With rent, food, and Steve’s frequent doctor visits, there just wasn’t the money.

Even though Bucky still couldn’t have a pet of his own, he enjoyed petting the stray dogs in the street or the dogs of rich ladies who lived near his parents.

Once the United States joined World War Two, Bucky got sent to Camp McCoy to train for the army. He heard that some folks were training dogs to assist the soldiers. He immediately wrote home to Steve.

Stevie, you’ll never believe it!

Dogs are being trained to assist soldiers!

You know I’m being trained as a sniper, but I wish I could be a dog handler.

Maybe when I come home a war hero we can get a dog and a big house with a big lawn for the dog to run in.

How are you? How’s home? Are you staying out of fights? I miss you lots. Sometimes it gets real cold in the barracks, and I miss our home and the blankets your ma made.

Anyway, I’m doing pretty well.

All my best, Buck

The base in Italy was wet, cold, and terrifying. Bucky had never been out of the States before, and now he was in enemy territory with Axis soldiers trying to kill him.

Bucky was scared any time had to leave his barracks (even though he knew a roof wasn’t going to do much against bombs).

The only part of the camp that resembled something normal was the mess hall. The food was rarely any good, but mealtimes brought all the soldiers together like battles didn’t. Sure, you trusted your brothers in arms during battle, but meals were different. Battles brought out fear and anxiety, while meals brought out laughter and stories of back home.

“What I miss the most is the ocean. Big blue waves crashing on the sand. And the sun! Fellas, it felt so good to just lay on the warm sand with the sun in the sky over ya’.”

“Aw, shut up, Frankie, we’ve heard enough about the sun,” Bucky said, laughing.

“Well, alright, Barnes, what’s somethin’ you miss?” Frankie shot back.

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck. He missed his family, and he missed his bed and home-cooked meals. He missed working at the docks and going to dance halls when he could scrounge up enough change. Most of all though, he missed Steve.

But the soldiers didn’t want to hear about Steve.

“I—I miss seeing the dogs that the rich ladies have. Those ladies walk ‘round all near my parents’ place with their silk coats and pearl necklaces, and the dogs are sometimes looking nicer than my brothers! What with their fur all neat and those bright shining collars. I know it’s real over the top, but I wish I could have a dog to spoil like that.”

He did want a dog, that wasn’t a lie.

But what he wanted most was to be at home, curled up with Steve in their bed.

Strapped to a cold metal table and experimented on somewhere in Austria, Bucky had frequent fever-dreams.

Usually, he’d dream about Steve. Even though in reality Steve got into fights all the time, that was a rare occurrence in his dreams. Most of the time he’d dream about coming home from a long day of work to a warm supper on the stove made by a Steve who was healthy. Other times, he’d dream about the house always being warm and sitting and listening to the radio with Steve.

Occasionally, he’d dream about having a puppy. Steve would always be present in the dreams with a puppy. Steve and Bucky would take their soft golden puppy on walks at night. Sometimes when it was warm they’d stop at Coney Island for some ice cream, and they’d let their dog splash in the waves.

But no matter how much he dreamed, it never came true. No puppy, and certainly no Steve.

Once again, Bucky was being shaken awake.

Even though he despised his alarm clock from back in Brooklyn, he found himself longing for it now. Getting shaken awake got old fast.

He groggily opened his eyes, expecting to see the bald German scientist hovering over him.

He did not see the bald German scientist.

He saw a man who looked just like Steve, only taller and with more muscle.

He must be hallucinating.

The man shook him again. “Buck, c’mon, wake up.”

That voice was Steve’s voice. Bucky would bet his life on it.

“Stevie,” he mumbled, tired from days of experiments and dozing on the metal table.

“Yeah, it’s me, pal.” Steve pressed a large, cold hand to Bucky’s cheek. “I thought you were dead, Buck.”

“I thought you were smaller.”

Steve laughed, a loud, real laugh in the middle of a war. “Let’s get out of here.”

Back at base, Steve and Bucky were rushed to the medical tent.

A nurse bandaged Steve’s scrapes, put some ointment on his burns, and declared that other than a few minor injuries, he was fine.

Bucky, on the other hand… Well, no one was quite sure what had happened to Bucky. Aside from a few burns from the fire, he had no visible wounds, but his head pounded something terrible, and his muscles felt achy. A nurse gave Bucky some water and placed a cool rag on his forehead and then left with a promise to return soon.

She returned with Colonel Phillips, and Steve paced beside Bucky’s cot as the nurse and the colonel discussed something quietly.

Bucky fell asleep.

When he woke, Steve was sitting in a chair beside his cot, hand clasped together, head bowed.

“Ste—Steve,” Bucky muttered out.

Steve’s head jerked up. “Oh, you’re awake. Here, let me get you some water.”

“No.” Bucky reached out, fingers grasping the sleeve of Steve’s shirt. “Stay.”

“Alright.”

Bucky turned his face towards his friend. “Are they sending me home?”

“They’re sending all of us to London.” Steve’s lips lifted, however slightly. “Giving us a break from duty for now.”

“You too? You’re gonna come with?” Bucky pulled at a thread in the blanket. What if they sent him away from Steve? What if Steve wasn’t coming too? HE wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Steve placed his hand over Bucky’s restless one. “Of course me too. Think I’d let them send me somewhere without you?”

“Y’know what?”

“Huh?”

“I want a dog, Stevie.”

“Go back to sleep, jerk.”

The streets of London were loud, though to Bucky, everything was loud. The pounding in his head had never really gone away.

Even though the sounds made his head hurt, Bucky didn’t mind the noise all that much.

It was nice to be able to walk outside without the fear of being attacked by enemy troops—or at least, less fear of being attacked by enemy troops.

He liked being able to spend time with Steve. They would walk all around the city together. Brooklyn would always be home for Bucky, but he couldn’t deny that London was beautiful too.

One day while out walking with Steve, Bucky had seen a fluffy brown dog running in the grass and catching a ball thrown by a young boy.

Desperately wanting to pet the dog, Bucky approached the young boy with much less confidence than he would have before the war.

“Can I pet your dog?” Bucky asked.

The boy smiled. “Sure. Her name is Teacup.”

“Thank you.” Bucky knelt down, scratching behind Teacup’s ears. “Such a good doggy.”

All Bucky wanted was for the new year to bring about the end of the war. He wanted to go home and see his ma and pa and siblings and go to work and dance halls and live with Steve in their little apartment.

Bucky never seemed to get what he wanted.

Instead of home, the new year brought the Howlies boarding an enemy train—in a terrible snowstorm no less.

Granted, they were doing this to capture Arnim Zola, the man who had experimented on Bucky.

So no, Bucky would not mind capturing him, and he would not mind his death, either. He would just prefer to go home instead.

Steve and Bucky landed on the train as planned, but when they entered the car, armed soldiers were ready for them.

Bucky shot at a soldier while Steve slammed his shield into another’s head. Two more soldiers came in. Bucky shot one and was aiming at the other when suddenly he was blasted backwards.

Wind was whipping around him, and the deep ravine was below him, and how did he even get here in the first place when he just wanted to go home?

He saw Steve leaning over the side of the train, reaching a hand out to him. “Hold on! Hold on, Bucky. Grab my hand!”

Bucky stretched, trying to grab hold of Steve’s hand, but there was a crack, and the rail he was holding onto broke.

And he was falling through the sky, down, down, down.

And he saw Steve’s heart break into a million pieces.

And he landed hard on the ground. So hard that it rattled his teeth and his bones.

He couldn’t feel his left arm. He couldn’t really feel anything at all.

It was cold.

He wanted to go home.

Once again, Bucky found himself strapped to a cold metal table.

His arm was gone. His head hurt.

In the beginning, he had tried to fight the HYDRA bastards who captured him but soon learned that fighting just got him punched and denied food.

Sometimes he’d hear Steve’s voice, and Bucky would bolt upright, looking everywhere for the source of it.

The agents would laugh at him.

“Captain America isn’t coming for you, Sergeant,” they’d say, mocking.

Bucky was so tired.

He wanted to be home. He wanted to curl up in bed with Steve, and he wanted to go on evening walks with a dog, and he wanted to go home.

Soon enough, he lost track of how long it had been.

The Soldier couldn’t remember anything.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.

The Soldier could remember blue eyes, but the handlers said he was imagining things.

The Soldier was instructed to take out Captain Rogers.

Captain Rogers was a good fighter.

Captain Rogers threw the Soldier in the air, and when the Soldier hit the ground, his face shield fell off.

The Soldier got to his feet, glaring at Captain Rogers.

“Bucky?” Captain Rogers said, mouth open in shock.

What was a Bucky? No, Captain Rogers was addressing someone. Captain Rogers was addressing the Soldier. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

The Soldier—no, James.

James found his own little apartment.

He went out now and then but mostly tried to stay out of the way of everybody.

He didn’t want to be noticed.

James would cook himself meals in his apartment. He would water the plant that sat next to his bed.

Some days he would forget to water the plant.

Some days he would forget to eat.

Some days he would have a hard time, memories swarming in from all directions, and confusion overtaking his mind.

Some days, though, he wouldn’t have a hard time. Those days he would go for a run, maybe pick up a book from a small bookstore near his apartment.

He slowly started to remember things. He liked science.

He liked to look out the window and see dogs passing by on the street.

He wanted a dog.

James just wanted to buy some fruit, when all of a sudden he was accused of killing the cat man’s father.

He did not kill the cat man’s father.

He didn’t do that anymore.

But he still found himself in Siberia after fighting the cat man, two flying robots, and a spider kid.

It turned out one of the flying robots was actually Tony Stark.

Howard Stark’s son.

He didn’t mean to kill Howard Stark, but that didn’t seem to matter to Tony.

His arm was gone, his arm was gone.

He had just wanted to buy some fruit, go home, and water his plant.

Things were getting better.

James was living in an apartment at the Avengers compound with Steve.

James was going to therapy.

James was starting to remember things. Steve was his friend. Steve liked to draw. James liked to listen to music. James liked to read and do puzzles.

James had gotten a dog, a golden retriever. Both Sam and his therapist had suggested it.

Pluto was a good doggie. James and Steve would go for walks with Pluto. When James was having a hard time, Pluto would snuggle against him, grounding him.

And Steve? Steve was a good friend to James. Steve helped him to remember; Steve helped when he had a hard time.

Steve was special to James.

Bucky had been reading on the internet. There was a lot to learn.

He always knew that he liked more than just girls.

Now, there was a word for it.

Pansexual, he figured, fit him.

He told Steve, saying, “I’m pansexual. Means I like girls and boys and other people, too. If you want me to leave, just say.”

Steve broke out in a smile. “I like boys and girls, too, Bucky. Bisexual.”

“Oh.”

“And I… Bucky, I like you. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Bucky must’ve been quick for a little too long as Steve said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Bucky said. “I just… there’s a lot of things going on. There’s a lot of things that have happened. But… I think I loved you before, and I like you a lot now.”

Steve just stared at him.

“Could I miss you, Steve?”

And Steve just leaned in, and Bucky put a hand to his cheek and kissed his lips softly, and it was nice nice nice.

“Would you like to go to Pride?” Steve whispered.

“I’d like that, Steve.” And he kissed him gently.

“Hop in, buddy,” Bucky said to Pluto, who was wearing a sign that said: PLUTO LOVES YOU.

Bucky himself was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, with pan flags painted on his cheeks.

“Ready, Buck?”

Bucky slid into the passenger seat of the car. Steve, wearing a bi flag tied around his neck, smiled at him.

“It will be good,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand.

“It will be,” Steve agreed.

They kissed.

It was good.

#stuckygiftexchange2020 #stuckysecretsanta2020 #writing #steve x bucky #em writes

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maylovexhs · 3 years

Text

everytime - BELIEVE IN LOVE(Chp. 42)

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas’s Eve! Ahhhh, one of my favorite chapters I’ve written. I won’t tell you much but Harry acts very much like Prince Charming in this one. Hope you enjoy :) -May

Catch up on everytime here

December 10, 2019. 5 PM.

I told Harry that I broke up with Ashton. I told him I chose him over Ashton. Harry was surprised. He thought I would want nothing to do with him after that night. As much as I wished I would have, I couldn’t run away from the fact I had feelings for Harry. Feelings worth of giving him another chance. Giving us a chance. We both had real feelings for each other this time. And we wanted to do it right this time. That’s why Harry was taking me out on a date tonight.

I landed in LA this morning. Harry was busy filling in for James Cordon tonight on the Late-Late show. Harry promised to take me out to dinner after taping the show. He told me to meet him at the studio at 7:30 but I wanted to see him before. Besides, he was performing. Could never miss out on that, especially since we were now dating.

“I thought you were coming later” Harry said, smiling and walking towards me in the hall.

Harry was dressed in a brown striped suit. He was about to go out for the taping.

“I was” I told him. “But I wanted to see you perform”

Harry smile turned into a little grin.

“Did you?” He asked me.

“I did” I said. “Did you not want me to come early?”

“Oh, no, no” Harry said. “Just feel like I have to give a better show now”

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“A better show?” I asked him. “When did you start to care about impressing me with your shows? You’re always over the top”

“Oh, I always have” Harry admitted. “Just have a reason now to actually care”

I smiled, blushing a little.

I thought I was immune to Harry’s flirting from all these years but . . . I could get used to this.

“I perform at the end though” Harry told me.

“Really?” I asked, dead serious.

“Mhmm” Harry nodded. “But you’re free to spend time until then in my dressing room”

I bit my lip, looking down.

“Should have just come at seven” I muttered.

Harry smirked at me, hearing what I said.

“You can just leave and come back, you know?” Harry said.

“You know, I would . . .” I said. “But I’m already here. Not worth being in traffic again”

Harry took my decision in stride.

“Appreciate the company” Harry said.

I smirked at him.

“H” We heard Ben say.

I looked behind Harry, seeing Ben. Harry turned around. Ben smiled at me.

“Oh, hey Y/N” Ben said, smiling.

“Hi Ben” I told him. “How’s Meredith and the kids?”

“Doing okay” Ben said.

Ben looked to Harry.

“You go on in five” Ben said. “They need you for sound”

Harry looked to me.

“Walk with me?” He asked me.

“Of course” I nodded.

Harry began to walk. I followed closely behind him. Ben walked with us, guiding the way.

“So, dinner” Harry said, bringing it up to me. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Oh, anything” I said. “I lost my appetite when I got off the plane. Why? Were you going to take me to Cafe Habana?”

Harry shook his head.

“We should have went out tomorrow night then” Harry said, joking with me.

“Just a rerun” Ben said. “Monologue, Tracee and Kendall come out”

Kendall? As in Kendall Jenner?

“Then, we do promo and it’s the game with Kendall” Ben continued to speak. “And then, performance”

“Got it all” Harry said.

Harry looked to me, searching for my reaction. I knew he expected me to have some reaction to hearing Kendall was here. I knew he expected me to be slightly upset at the news, which I was. I didn’t choose to show it though, pretending as if I didn’t hear her name.

We finally stopped walking, with Harry lifting his suit jacket up a bit. A sound engineer gave Harry a monitor. Harry adjusted it to hang on the back of his pants. He looked to Ben.

“Can you give Y/N and I a minute?” He asked.

Ben nodded, walking away. Harry looked to me. I already knew what he was planning to ask me. Luckily, I spoke before him.

“It’s okay” I said. “She’s just a guest. I know you don’t have any control over it”

Harry smiled at me.

“You’re not upset?” He asked me.

“Well, to be honest . . . a little” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wanted to but I didn’t want to make you upset before we went out” Harry said.

“And not telling me at all would be better?” I asked him. “H, you know I would find out anyways”

“I know, I know” Harry said, looking down. “I just don’t want you to think she’s important. I wanted tonight to be about us”

I looked down, sighing.

We wanted to do this right. He told me he wanted to do this right with me. I wanted that too. And if I wanted to make it right, I had to pick which battles were worth fighting over. She wasn’t.

I looked up to Harry, who was already staring at me. I smiled at him. I reached up on my tippy toes, kissing him on the cheek. Harry’s cheeks became a little red.

“We’re going out” I said, smiling at him. “We’re going out later and you’re hosting the show tonight”

Harry looked surprised for a moment but then smirked at me. He nodded.

“We are going out tonight” Harry said, understanding what I was thinking.

I smiled at him.

“I’m going to find my way back to your dressing room” I told him. “Good luck”

“I won’t need it anymore” Harry said.

I rolled my eyes at him as I began to walk away. I took a little glimpse back at Harry, seeing him talk to Ben. I smiled to myself.

We wanted to make this work. And in order for that to happen, I had to forget the past and believe what Harry said now. I had to believe Harry would never hurt me again. I had to believe Harry loved me. I had to, for us.

8 PM.

“Okay, your eyes are closed right?” Harry asked me.

“They have been since we got out of the car” I told him.

“Alright, alright” Harry said, finally getting the hint of my impatience. “Just give me a minute”

I nodded.

The show was alright. Harry did a great job as a host. It was fun but also disgusting to see him eat bugs instead of answering questions. Harry brushed his teeth two times after the show but I still was hesitant to kiss him. I really had nothing to worry about Kendall and Harry. The only thing I got worried over was the fact Harry didn’t tell Kendall what songs he wrote about her. I quickly let it go, knowing it was not worth fighting over anyways. Besides, Harry told me what songs he wrote were about me. That spoke for itself. I guess the only other thing I did worry about was that Kendall wouldn’t have a nip slip on television. She had to adjust her jumpsuit every five minutes.

I sniffed the smell of the ocean. Were we by the beach? I didn’t feel like I was on sand.

“Okay, you can open” Harry said.

I took my hands off of my eyes. I opened them, blushing immediately at the sight in front of me. Harry set up a picnic. Candles were lit around the blanket. There were a few pillows on the ground. We were on a cliff next to the beach.

“Jeff and Ben helped me a little” Harry said. “There was no way I could have set all this up in five minutes”

I smiled at Harry.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked me.

“I love it” I said. “Didn’t expect you to go all out for me”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry asked me. “You said so yourself I’m always over the top”

“Yes but we were talking about fashion” I told him.

Harry smiled at me.

“Do you want to sit?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah” I said, walking onto the blanket. “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Mine are coming off” Harry said, knocking his sneakers off to the side.

I slipped my shoes off before sitting down. Harry sat down next to me. I looked out on the view. I could see the waves crash onto the shore.

“Tom, I and the other guys used to come for walks here when we needed a break from the album” Harry said. “I always found this place peaceful”

I looked to Harry.

“It is” I said. “Thanks for bringing me here”

“Well, Cafe Habana was my first choice but . . .“ Harry stopped talking the second I raised my eyebrows at him. “But this is better”

Harry looked around in the picnic basket.

“You said anything but I got your favorites” Harry said, taking out a few covered small bowls of food from the basket. “I got pasta, sushi”

I stared at Harry, slowly smiling at him.

He did this all for me. Just for me. I didn’t know why I felt so surprised with what he did. I went on dates before with other guys and hung out with Harry several of times before but sitting here felt different. I felt like I was back on my first date with my first boyfriend. Afraid with butterflies in my stomach but also optimistic. I felt like my gut was telling me everything would be alright.

“What?” Harry asked me, catching me stare at him.

I looked down to my bandaged hand.

“Nothing” I said. “I’m just really happy being here”

Harry placed his hand over mine. I looked up to him again. His green eyes stood out more to me even in the night. Either that or he was leaning closer into me.

“I’m happy you think that” Harry said.

I blushed a little again, looking down. Harry took his hand off mine.

I was happy being right here. I was and I was very much in love with Harry. I wanted to tell him that. Shouldn’t I tell him?

I looked to Harry again.

Harry already told me he loved me. But was it the right time for me to tell him? Wasn’t it too early?

“Oh, I spoke to Stevie again” Harry said. “I asked her if she wanted to sing with me on Friday”

“You did?” I asked him. “What did she say?”

“She said yes” Harry said. “Well, she asked me first ‘why me?’”

“And? What did you tell her?” I asked him.

“I told her because I wanted her to be there. She was there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record. It’s only right I have her here now” Harry explained.

I smiled at Harry, feeling my heart give a little jolt.

Even though he was talking about Stevie, hearing him say that was somewhat endearing to me. I knew how Harry could be so genuine but watching him talk about someone in such a sweet way . . . I think I just fell in love with him again. If anything, I felt a deeper love for him.

Harry looked to me. He smiled.

“You’re smiling at me like that again” He told me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing” I said. “It’s just . . .”

Should I tell him? It couldn’t be too early to, was it?”

“Just what?” Harry asked, leaning closer into me.

Without hesitation, I leaned into Harry to kiss him. I closed my eyes as I cupped his cheeks. I meant only to give him a short kiss to thank him but as soon I tasted his lips, my mind changed. I didn’t know if it was Harry’s cologne finally intoxicating me but I felt the sudden urge to make up for all moments where I could have kissed him but didn’t. Now, I could. I felt Harry’s arms wrap around my waist not a second later.

I pulled away from Harry a moment after. My lips hovered above his, giving him the chance to kiss me again if he wanted. My hands still rested on his face as I kept my eyes still closed.

“Thank you” I said in a low voice. “For doing all this. You didn’t have to but . . . you did”

I felt Harry’s lips brush against mine for a second. I opened my eyes, seeing Harry already staring at me. He looked into my eyes, having a look of admiration for me. He smiled at me.

“Of course I did, Y/N” Harry said. “I’d do anything for you”

A smile slowly grew on me. Harry looked to the basket.

“Some wine?” Harry asked me, pulling out a wine bottle from the basket.

“Uh, yeah” I said.

I watched as Harry took out two cups from the basket. I felt my heart jolt again.

All I had to do was believe that Harry loved me for us to work. How couldn’t I after tonight?

#fluff harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #hs imagine #hs imagines #everytime HS #everytime chapters #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot

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howlingmedic · 4 years

Text

Coming Home: Chapter 3

Coming Home:

Previous | Next

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Warnings: angst, references to religion, fighting, miscommunication, references to blood, idiots in love who don't know what to do with themselves

Relationship: Stucky x Angel!OFC

A/N: There may be a very long delay before the next update because I’m questioning the plot twist I initially wrote. This is especially true because this entirety of Allie’s character and this ship was developed with a friend of mine (the lovely @magellan-88), and there are aspects from that development that I’ve referenced in future chapters that I did not adequately explain. So, in short, you might have to wait a little while to read more about these three, but the next few chapters may be longer as a result of needing to write some flashback scenes into them. Also, I work in healthcare...during a pandemic... and am a student. My life is a shit show. Please be patient.

Chapter Three: Reaching Out

“God damn it!” Bucky’s words bounced off the walls of the tiny apartment they were squatting in this week. It had been two months of searching and getting nowhere. Two months of no new answers. Two months of one of them storming off in a huff when tensions ran too high for them to manage. In that time, Tony had concluded that Allie’s tracker had to have been destroyed. That was one lead gone. Natasha hadn’t found anything conclusive, never anything more than a whisper here or a whisper there. Each eagerly followed up on and found to be nothing. Banner had been the only successful one, but only insofar as having everyone ready to assemble and pouring over lore that could come in handy. Loki had, at least, miraculously, offered to stay on Earth. When Steve had asked why, the god had just smirked and said they had “history.”

So when Bucky screamed out his frustrations, Steve could hardly blame him. What he didn’t have was anything useful to help his partner. Instead, all Steve could do was murmur, “Don’t think anyone in Allie’s family is gonna help us, babe,” and hug the other man from behind. “Come take a break. S’almost 2 in the morning. Ya gotta sleep,” he added with a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

“‘M comin’ in just behind ya. Gotta try a couple more things first,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned back into Steve’s touch and tilted his head up to kiss the blonde’s cheek.

“Doll…” Steve whispered while he combed his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair that had lost so much of its usual shine. “Just don’t forget to rest.”

“I’m not, I just gotta try one more time.”

“Ya gonna try praying again?” Steve asked with an attempt to keep his tone neutral. So many of their fights had started over the topic of praying, but he didn’t want to fight. He had a favor to ask.

“Yeah, Stevie, I am,” Bucky huffed with the same anger he had felt so many times over the last two months rising to the surface again, each time more quickly than the last. “I haven’t lost faith in her hearing me,” he added in a low growl.

“Don’t you dare think I’ve given up!” Steve bellowed and shoved himself back from Bucky’s chair. His own fury had begun to have a hairpin trigger these last couple months, and Bucky’s anger drew it out faster than anything else in this word. It didn’t help anything that he wished he could reach out to his angel like that.

Bucky stared back at him expectantly, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort to rein in his frustration. Enough years of watching Steve had taught him precisely what the way the blonde’s head had just fallen forward and his shoulders had just sagged meant: this anger wasn’t directed at him, at least not entirely. This anger was pointed inward. So, he waited for whatever was about to follow.

“I just… I can’t make myself,” Steve whispered, and shame practically dripped from his every word. “Every time I try, I get stuck in my head and start worrying about what it means if she can’t hear me.” Steve swallowed hard and dug into his eyes with the heels of hands for a moment before adding even more quietly, “I was gonna ask ya to tell her that I love her and miss her. I don’t want her to think I gave up, and if you do… then shit. Can’t imagine what she thinks.”

Bucky sighed and opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped and simply extended his arms towards Steve. The blonde’s head still hung low, but he shuffled over to sit in Bucky’s lap. “She would know exactly what to do right now to make us stop snapping at each other,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s neck.

“Sit here with me while I pray, doll. Ya don’t have to say anything, but it’d mean a lot if you’d stay,” Bucky answered. Steve lifted his head, and his brow furrowed. Bucky pressed on before the blonde could speak, “I’ve been snapping at you cause I’ve felt alone, like we haven’t been working together out here, and then I started praying cause we ain’t got shit to work with, but that’s one way I can feel like I’m doing something. I finally had something I could do, and you kept getting upset about it.”

“I only wished-” Steve started, and Bucky shook his head.

“I know that now, ya punk, and I get it… but please stay.”

“Alright, jerk,” Steve answered sweetly, and he nestled himself in impossibly close to Bucky, making his large frame as small as humanly possible.

Bucky fell silent, and his eyes closed just like when he would meditate, but this felt different. There was a slight charge to the air like when Allie would use her grace, and Bucky’s lips turned up the tiniest fraction of an inch. Tears sprung up at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he sat there curled up in his fiancé’s lap, longing for when a moment like this had once felt so natural. When feeling this connected was as simple as breathing. His eyes fell closed as one tear slid down his cheek. Where are you? He thought desperately, every fiber of his being screaming the question and hoping Allie could hear him. No, not hoping, praying, he realized, and his own lips twitched upwards.

He didn’t hear an answer, and he knew he wouldn’t. Allie had explained more times than he cared to count that she couldn’t answer their prayers since they weren’t angels. When this conversation was had during good times, Bucky usually met that explanation by whining, “then make us angels.” Steve was about to chuckle at the memory when something flashed on the computer in front of them, and he lept out of Bucky’s lap.

“What the -” Bucky started, with more than a touch of frustration in his voice, but that was as far as he got before his mouth snapped shut. “What is it?” he asked in a rush.

“Sam’s coming back,” Steve answered in a deadly cold voice, “he found an angel blade at the compound.” That was when Steve turned to Bucky. He couldn’t face the last fact alone. “There’s blood on it.”

The next few seconds stretched into an eternity punctuated by several sounds. First, there was the clatter of Bucky’s chair hitting the floor. Then, there was Bucky’s whispered, “No.” There were a few footsteps that rang unnaturally loud in Steve’s ears. Next came the sound of two hundred pounds of a man hitting the ground without any attempt to break his fall. The last was his own voice saying, “Bucky, baby, don’t give up on her. The blade is gonna go to the lab and get a whole lot of testing done before we know if she was hurt by it, ok?” That one shocked Steve the most. Not because he barely registered getting up and moving to Bucky’s side, but because his voice came out level.

“She didn’t use her blade, Stevie. Not before she got grabbed,” Bucky argued through what sounded like a throat that was rapidly tightening with unshed tears.

“No, but we don’t know what happened after that, doll. Anything could’ve happened then,” Steve pointed out and settled himself on the floor before tugging Bucky into his lap. It was his turn to comfort his partner. “Doll, I know I was reluctant to pray, and we can talk about the rest of that issue later, but when you were praying, I sorta accidentally prayed?” Steve admitted in a voice that ended up sounding far more like a question than he had intended. “I didn’t really mean to, I was working through what little we knew, and then I got so frustrated that I sorta mentally screamed at her. Well, that’s when the message from Sam popped up. So maybe it’s a good sign,” Steve explained, and, for the first time in weeks, he sounded hopeful, genuinely hopeful, even to himself.

Bucky turned around in Steve’s lap to look at him properly, and Steve had expected the disbelief to be etched into the other’s features. What he hadn’t planned for anger to be there as well. “You prayed once. One god damned time and you mighta gotten a response. I’ve been praying every single night for weeks!” Bucky seethed as the plates in his arms whirred ominously.

“Hold on,” Steve barked and grabbed Bucky’s hands, lacing his fingers with both flesh and metal ones before he tried to placate the man in front of him. Steve locked his eyes with Bucky’s that were alight with anger and tried to find a way to put into words what he had felt, “Before I started, I could feel the charge in the air that’s there when Allie uses her grace, like the residual energy that it gives off. It was like I could feel her here. Didn’t you feel that?” He ended with the question that was both a plea for calm and confirmation that he hadn’t lost his mind.

Bucky’s face bunched up with thought, but his face was still etched with anger. Now confusion was added to the mix, at least, until it wasn’t anymore. His features went slack, and the anger drained from his eyes when he looked back up at Steve. “Yeah, I guess I did. I think I had felt that before too, but I had written it off as wishful thinking. A trick of the mind that I had conjured up to keep from losing hope.”

“I think it was real. I think she’s trying to reach us, Buck, even if that message from Sam was a coincidence. She’s been here,” Steve choked out, and now his throat felt tight. His eyes burned with tears of relief. Suddenly, two strong arms were pulling him into a muscled chest.

“She’s alive.”

#Stucky #Stucky x Angel!OFC #Steve x Angel #Steve x OFC #Steve x Angel!OFC #Bucky x OFC #Bucky x Angel #Bucky x Angel!OFC #Angst #Hurt and Comfort #CW: religion #CW: Blood #CW: Fighting

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natalia-alianovna-romanova101 · 3 years

Text

Daisies

So I wrote fanfic. It’s on Wattpad too called the same thing. I’m sorry if this sucks this is my first real story. It’s mostly Stucky but there is xfemreader at the end of it. Based slightly on a fanfic I read about Peter Parker but definitely not the same. Hope you like it idk if I will write an epilogue but lemme know if you want to see one.

Warnings: my shit writing and swear words its sad (i think idk i almost cried but i’m emotional so maybe it wont be for you)

"Hi I'm James but everyone calls me Bucky what's Your name," The young brunette said holding his hand out to help the small blonde boy stand up

"my names Steve, people just call me Steve,"

Bucky starts to brush the leaves off Steve's shirt.

"Well you looked lonely so I we can be friends now," Bucky said smiling grabbing Steves small hand to drag him to the swings

Bucky walked down the sidewalk of New York. Next week it will have been a year. It was early in the morning just a few minutes before the flower shop opened. He had done this a million times since he had died. Every morning at 7 am he would stop at Starbucks for a black coffee then walk a few blocks to the small flower shop on the corner, buy 1 daisy then walk to the cemetery. He didn't understand why he did this. Steve had left him. But he couldn't let go.

"C'mon Stevie we are teenagers we gotta have a little fun,"

"getting fake IDs to vote is fun,"

"thats illegal,"

"so,"

"so we could get arrested and then never vote. What if we went to Coney Island instead,"

"no,"

"yes. we are going let’s go,"

7:30. That's when the flower shop opened. Every day. He was there at 7:30 everyday.

The girl who had run the shop was never late. She had become accustomed to keeping fresh daisies underneath her desk for the man who came every morning. They had become close, not yet friends but getting there. She knew about Steve but not enough. She knew who Bucky was what he was made to be, and always accepted him.

Steve was bleeding again. He was always bloody. But Bucky didn't care. He had developed feelings for his best friend. Feelings he didn't understand.

"Steve you have to stop getting in fights what if I don't get there in time next time and you get seriously hurt."

"c'mon buck I'll be fine you know that. Why do you worry so much,"

"because I care about you,"

"I know that but you still care a lot. Even my mother has stopped worrying about me,"

"don't worry about it,"

"Why do you care so much Buck c'mon tell me,"

"Because I'm fucking in love with you Steve and if you died I don't know what I would do with myself ok. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Steve stopped walking staring up at Bucky.

"stop looking at me like that I know it's wrong and stupid but I can't help it."

"Bucky... I love you too but we both know this can't happen."

"no one has to know it could just be you and me punk, no labels,"

"Bucky..."

Bucky kissed him. He didn't know where it came from but it felt right. And Steve didn't pull away which is always a plus. Pushing him against the wall his body was on fire. He knew they couldn't ever be together really but maybe just maybe they could be more than friends. He broke the kiss, looking at Steve breathless.

"See no one has to know,"

Steve nodded leaning back in

Bucky walked into the flower shop right on time

"Good morning James how are you today," the soft voice of the store owner said as soon as he walked in.

"I had another panic attack yesterday," He said looking down ashamed. He hated his anxiety but he learned fast that she would see right through any of his lies.

"Oh James it's all right." She walked around the counter to hug him. She was much shorter than him so she had to stand on her toes to get her arms around his shoulders.

He didn't understand why he trusted her so much. Something about her presence was comforting. He only ever let Steve hug him and only his therapist (and Sam because of his therapist) knew about his anxiety problems and PTSD. But he found her comforting.

"Next time call me ok. I used to get these all the time. It's alright there's nothing to be ashamed about."

She took his hands into her taking off the gloves he knew she hated so much. He normally took them off before he walked in but today he couldn't he was too ashamed. He knew she didn't hate his metal arm, but he didn't know just how much she loved it.

“What’s your favorite flower?” the question had come out of nowhere. They had been sitting on couch cushions that had been moved to the floor listening to the radio

“What,” Steve asked

“Well everyone assumes that only girls like flowers but I like flowers too, my favorite are sunflowers. What about you”

“Daisies. They are elegant,”

“Elegant really where did you even learn that word,” Bucky laughed

“My mother, now stop bullying me you asked,”

“Oh Stevie I thought it was gonna be roses or something not daisies. They are so boring,”

“No they aren’t,”

“Ya they are,”

“No they aren’t,” Steve picked up a pillow and hit Bucky with it. Bucky looked at him shocked before getting his own pillow to hit Steve with.

"Now the usual I presume," she asked calmly

He could only nod in response. She walked behind the counter picking a daisy and placing the gloves next to the vase. After handing it to him, she continued to walk around the store. Confused, Bucky followed her. She stopped in front of a display of orangy pink roses.

"These are english roses, also known as the Grace Flower. They are my favorite," She said picking one out

"They are pretty," he said inspecting the flower. Not as pretty as her though

Bucky couldn't think like that

He just lost Steve a year ago

he left you the voice in his head said

He hated the voice in his head.

Bucky stood in front of the memorials. The funeral had just finished but he couldn’t leave just yet.

“Hey,” Sam said softly trying not to disturb the silence

“I know this is hard for you Bucky,”

“You don’t know anything,” Bucky snapped back. Sam would never understand what it felt like, he never lost someone like this

“He was my friend too you know, you aren’t the only one who lost someone Bucky,”

Bucky looked over at Sam. His eyes red from crying darkened

“I loved him and he chose her,”

Sam’s face fell. He didn’t know about them. What they had before the war. Only the stories that they told.

Bucky turned around and walked away

"I am going to come with you today James. Figured it's time I met Steve. Now c'mon," She started walking to the door.

He walked over to the counter to get his gloves. He knew it was stupid but he couldn't leave without his gloves.

"James leave them. It's time to let those go,"

"But it's embarrassing," he argued. He didn't want her to be seen with a freak like him.

"No it isn't now c'mon it's I can't keep the shop closed all day," he sighed and walked over to the door.

It was almost 2am but Bucky wasn't tired, he didn't think he would ever have to sleep again. Running hand in hand with Steve around Brooklyn was a dream come true.

It was raining and he knew Steve could get sick but it was summer so it couldn't be that cold. Besides not anything that hasn't happened before.

Steve was a terrible dancer but he didn't care. Spinning and dancing in the rain hand in hand he was having the time of his life. He kissed Steve, holding his face with his hands, continuing to spin around.

"Buck my parents are gonna be worried when I don't wake up early tomorrow."

"Who cares,"

"My parents,"

"oh c'mon Stevie you can't tell me you haven't been having fun. Just one more hour please," he bit his lip knowing Steve wouldn't be able to resist.

"Fine,"

After kissing Steve again, Bucky laughed and dragged Steve with him further. The night was beautiful and he wished it would never end.

She had held his hand the whole way ignoring the stares. His metal hand. The one he hated. But she walked the whole 15 minutes from the flower shop to the cemetery hand in hand with him talking about the buildings. Bucky didn't know how he was feeling.

They made it to the cemetery. Passing the Captain America Memorials, Bucky walked all the way to the back of a small gravestone in the corner.

Steve Rogers grave. Not Captain Americas. The one that Bucky had done himself. He had bought a small tombstone and buried Steves ashes there to honor Steve. Not captain america. The 90 pound asthmatic that he fell in love with.

battle of wakanda infinity war

About 15 minutes in Bucky found Steve in the woods fighting off the creatures.

He helped him fight off the rest in the area then turned to Steve and pulled him into a kiss.

"for good luck," Bucky said before running back out to the battlefield to help the racoon with the gun

'weird' he thought

She let go of his hand as he walked closer to the grave to give him some space.

This happened for the next week. He started really talking to the flower shop owner, got her number. She had to help him work the phone though. They talked all the time now. Bucky could finally feel himself moving on.

On the one year anniversary of Steve's death Bucky went alone. He brought the daisy to the grave and knelt down.

"Steve I don't know what would have happened if we hadn't "died" in the army ending up 70 years in the future. Maybe we would have made it to the end of the line like you always said. But clearly it wasn't meant to be. I think I am ready to let you go now. I met a girl. You would love her. You clearly loved Peggy more than me. But that's ok I hope you had a great life. Your grandchildren always love to talk about you. I will never regret the days I spent with you completely in love. But I had lost you a long time ago. Thank you."

He was ready. He left the cemetery walking to the closest flower shop (not the one he usually went to) picking up a bouquet of English roses. He walked to your small flower shop on the corner of the block where it had always been. As soon as the other customer left he walked in, hiding the roses behind his back.

"James long time no see," She laughed at herself. She was adorable.

"Please y/n call me Bucky," He walked over pulling the roses from behind his back.

Her face lit up "Those are my favorite thank you. What's the occasion?"

"Will you go out with me," he looked at her hopefully

"of course I will," She hugged him

And for the first time on years, Bucky finally felt truly happy

#bucky #stucky #xfemreader #idk it was an idea so i wrote it #its sad

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akathecentimetre · 4 years

Text

So here’s the thing.

Of course I love The Old Guard. Like, of COURSE I do. It is everything I like and everything you all have gotten used to knowing I like, from found family to unconditional love to the yummy yummy historical tidbits. It’s going to have a truly Great fandom.

But watching it was not, for me, some huge revelatory experience in media because - well, I’ve written it before. Many times, in scattered pieces, across a lot of my fic. And what made me cry last night when I finally watched it was that it’s the spitting image of an epic vampire story that I wrote, over a decade ago, with Rio (@aumerle-that-was).

Who is now dead. Recently dead. [I wrote a post about her here.]

The Barrens will most likely never make it to publication. It’s huge, and unwieldy, and full of unnecessary crack because I was an 18-19-20-year-old virgin when we were spending the most time on it. But it’s 232,761 words of memories, of laughter, of love, and, as I mentioned in my previous post, of me learning how to write at all.

I miss her. I wish she was still here, to see The Old Guard and love it (GOD she would have loved it). I wish she was here so she could write the most beautiful, unbearable, Italianate fic of Joe & Nicky that anyone could have ever imagined. They deserve a gifset set to her Coldplay “roman cavalry choirs” singing.

Here’s some tiny images of what we wrote, focusing on various characters (including one called Rio, of no relation; this epic started, if you can believe, as a football/soccer RPF AU). I’ve picked out some character moments rather than historical bits, but fair warning that there’s mention of some nasty/upsetting stuff.

It was the need to eat, and the need to live, and the need to go on, and it was, as the last sliver of sun splintered on the deep blue of Capri's sea, utterly unendurable, because he knew that he would, he would get up, he would go on, he would feed, and he would keep living. He would keep living, and the grief and anguish in his mind would keep on with him, the raw, still-bleeding edges of the severed bond breathing with him, and the new fear and hatred he had learned keeping him company with them.

He would just refuse to think, that was all. That couldn't be so hard.

It couldn't.

He closed his eyes, and swallowed, shutting down memories and envy and misery at once, and drew a deep, unnecessary breath before he looked out at the Mouth of Truth again. He walked over to it slowly, and put his hand in. "I don't miss you," he said. "And you needed to die." Robin whined sadly behind him. The Mouth stayed open.

Things were shutting down, blowing out like lamps at night, and all he could think was thank God, because he didn't want this anymore, couldn't stand it, and he thought it might be his life that was guttering out like a candle, and it was really too much effort to care, because peace.

...but as bad as dying was, it was nothing compared to waking up again.

Fingers were tapping him sharply on one cheek. "'Ey. 'Ey, come on, wake up."

He opened his eyes. And immediately shouted out in a mix of pain, terror, and absolutely overwhelming confusion, because his head hurt so badly he thought he just might have been brained with an axe, and when he struggled into a sitting position it was to the realization that his clothes were soaked with blood, and that just couldn't be good at all. His hands shot to his throat, but when he found that there was nothing there - no torn flesh, no blood, no wound, no nothing - all he could let out was a horrified sort of squeak.

There was the odd laugh again, and it didn't help at all to realize he could feel it now, as if he was tapped into the other man's amusement like some barrel of watered beer left running.

"Very good," the man's voice rumbled, making him jump again, because he didn't just hear it, it was like it was in his ear. "Now then. Follow these regles" - a piece of crumpled paper was thrust into his bloody palm - "and you shall be just fine, yes? Yes. I think you shall be fine." And then the man stood, stepped over him, and opened the door, pushing Rio's nerveless legs aside as it swung on its hinges. "I think I had better go. Too much - commotion. Bonsoir!"

"And fuck you," Rio managed to croak with some vehemence, feeling the amusement fade out and vanish, as though it had never been there at all. If it weren't for the way his head felt and the state of his hands and clothes, he'd have thought he'd dreamed it - got coshed, maybe, and dreamed it. The crumpled piece of paper was telling him otherwise. The slightly-mangled syntax was bad enough without it apparently being straight out of a child's fairy tale.

Never kill when you drink. Never go out in the sun unless you have strength enough. If it is possible, no churches. NEVER TOUCH SILVER. Run from Hunters, do not fight. Be polite when you use your mind, otherwise it will hurt.

Bonds of love are forever.

He had got as far as the steps when the world began to shatter, as though cacophony could be made into feeling, sending him in a kind of sideways fall against the stone balustrade, and wondering how he had never known there was this much pain in the world, because it was worse even than the night he had been left to bleed his life out on a London street, worse than silver, worse than anything he could begin to think of as comparison. It was the utter definition of agony, and all he could think was that he needed it to stop, it had to stop, before his mind fragmented and splintered along with it.

It came to him, distant and heartwrenching, that this was what Cruyff had meant by letting go, that he had to withdraw or risk going irrevocably mad, but - fuck, fuck, how could he let go of everything, Cruyff was everything, it was impossible that he should be - imposs -

He fell against the wall, toppled onto his knees, and screamed.

“And if you want immortality for someone, the last thing you want is to find yourself becoming a murderer. Unless you're Marco..." he trailed off with a sigh, and shook his head. "Marco seduced a girl in Babylon --"

"Babylon --!" Rio gaped. Babylon didn't even exist any more, God, what sort of timescale were they talking about here?

"He went with Alexander," Gullit said patiently, "and if you want to know more about that, read a book."

Gullit bristled and snarled without actually saying anything, giving Rio the distinct impression that the master vampire was more of a real wolf than Robin would ever be. "Go on then," he snapped. "Tell me to my face that you will be able to wake up tomorrow night and do what you have to do. That is all the time I will allow you - and I will know if you are lying."

Rio swallowed. He thought of silver, and the way it burned even when it wasn't a knife, thought of how it tainted everything, how the thought even of being there one more second alongside that pain was almost impossible. He thought of how it was now his knife, how he had earned the pain and the ability both, and owned them by name and by right.

He thought, deliberately, of the scars on Ed's body, of the look in his eyes that first night at Stevie's, as though the world were a place of ash and horror and nothing good could even be imagined.

He thought of Gullit, whose sons were dead and had no-one to lay claim to him or who he could be part of but Marco, and who carried on, scarred and limping and casting his damn spells, trying to earn something Rio thought just might be the forgiveness of the twice-dead.

"Yeah," he said then, looking straight into Gullit's dark, hot eyes. "I could."

"Could you really," Gullit said thoughtfully. It wasn't, terrifyingly, anywhere near a question.

I can make no predictions, so consider this an indefinite promise: you are not going back.

Rio's mind turned into a perfect, careful blank of pure incomprehension.

Back here? he ventured, because if that was it, he really didn't understand, since how not coming back here was anything but good was absolutely and completely beyond him. How he was supposed to feel anything but thank-you-God about even the idea of never coming back here was apparently a mental leap he was incapable of making.

There was a snort of derision, the horrid sound failing to arouse even a twitch of amusement from anyone. No, Rio, Gullit whispered. He had to live with the possibility of never - that his pain would never end. And now you’re going to live with it too. You’re going to live with the thought that you might never kill Marco... and, due to the extremes of unpredictability this world - and especially Marco - goes to, you’re going to live with the idea that you might never see, or be able to love, Edwin ever again.

He wasn't sure if he was being manipulated, or if it was real, but the sense of something that wasn't even grief – that was beyond grief, was nothing as human as grief – was shocking and immediate and all-consuming. It was the knowledge that the last memories he might ever be able to make that were his own – even now, as his brain stuttered in a void, he knew that what he had seen here was not his for the taking – the last memories he could truly take for himself would be the look of joy in Ed's eyes, and the clean-cut Roman profile of the vampire who had been able to give and be all he had ever wanted. The last memory he might ever be able to bring out of his mind in all the days that were his to pass from now until the end of some infinite horror was one of loss.

It was devastation, wilderness, wasteland, the barrens.

It was exile, and eternity, and Christ! Laurent had given him no such thing as a gift of life, he had given him a curse.

Bonds of love are forever.

And without the ability to love, with only the bonds, with only shackles for his heart and soul worse than those that lay open in front of his mind's eye – with the only thing he had always known suddenly ripped from him and held up to the clear light of unforgiving truth, and shown as worthless, forever didn't seem like any kind of promise at all.

He had only recently started getting used to the concept of communicating with his mind, and what glimpses he had gotten of Ruud's had only convinced him that there was more in there than he could ever possibly hope to understand - so he didn't try. But he did know that London was important, and that something was going to happen, so he finished packing very carefully before moving on to Ruud's things, which were still scattered carelessly around the room (a rarity, because normally the captain was as neat as a pin). "You don't deserve this," he heard Ruud say quietly, and he shrugged without looking over his shoulder. "Well. I'm alive, sir." "No you're not," Ruud said - not unkindly.

"I'm here?"

"Yes," Ruud said. He sounded exhausted. "You are. Hooray for you."

"Give me one solitary fucking reason why I shouldn't throw you through this wall."

Ruud didn't have the energy to come up with something honest. "Goodwill towards your fellow man?"

He ended up flat on his back in the remains of what had been a parked cab instead, but he was pretty sure it hurt the same amount.

"Fellow man? You don't count," Rio said, sounding horrible and raspy from somewhere off to the side, as Ruud blinked away some interestingly-coloured sparkles and waited for his leg to heal up the nerve-endings enough for things to start being excruciating. "I'm not sure you count as a fucking vampire, you shit."

"No," Ruud grunted, swaying up to a seated position just in time to get punched in the face and fall back again with a broken nose, and the sparkles deciding to take up permanent residence behind his eyelids. "I don't. Tell me how he is."

Rio's skull-face didn't look any better in lamplight and through floating small pinpricks of fake stars. "Sorry, was that you asking for something?"

"Yes," he ground out, lifting a weary hand to his mouth and shoving a crooked incisor back into its place. "And you're going to tell me. I don't care if you feel like disembowelling me, though don't get any ideas - you're going to."

"I'm off disembowelling for the next century, don't worry yourself," Rio growled, and that was the nastiest way Ruud had ever got an answer in his life, and knowing he'd deserved it didn't help at all. "Fuck's sake. How do you think? You left." Right, so apparently git stood for Great Incompetent Tosser.

"Like you what?" the man said, getting right to the heart of Rio's inadequacy in the same death-warmed-up voice, and put a shaking hand down against the floor to try and pull his rag-covered body out of the bunk. "He said it would save me. Are you saved?"

Maybe he would just use the hook on Laurent, instead. "Um. Not - really, no." He hoped like hell the man wasn't talking about in the sight of God, because that was one can of worms Rio was never going anywhere near. "He made me, though, too. Just like he did you. So we don't die....yet." Life, Laurent had told him, and hadn't that been a terrifyingly unfunny joke? Rio didn't want to have to use the word 'vampire' among all these living corpses, but he was getting a nasty feeling that between necessary obliquity and whatever arsing terrible explanation Laurent had buggered off after giving, he was going to have to.

He straightened up without the help of Rio's hands, and for the first time Rio could put a face to the voice - he was Rio's height, and big, or should have been were it not for the thinness of his limbs, wrists and forearms Rio could have encircled with two fingers end-to-end, and a broad, now-pinched face which spoke of a starvation perhaps beyond all else Rio had seen, because he knew without even asking this man had not known, at least not consciously, to drink, and yet the strength of the vampire would have kept him from expiring even had he begged for it.

Laurent would have fed him, though. Laurent would have let him know at least what it took to keep going - wouldn't he? Perhaps not, any kind of feeding here was a death sentence to the donor, willing or not, and considering Laurent's one and only set of instructions, Rio guessed that the bastard had just been hoping for the best to work itself out - and in the meantime, what the fuck was he going to do? "Means you're my brother," he said at last, because that was what mattered, in the end, wasn't it, that was why he was here, why he'd ended up in a kind of Hell no-one had even thought of until now, not even the living dead. "An' I'm Rio." He'd first introduced himself as who and what he was so many lifetimes ago that he was amazed it still struck a chord of memory inside him, hearing his voice in the little hut as though he were back in the room in London, wondering why he'd saved a vamp who didn't even have the sense not to kill. "It's - we're gonna be all right. Honest."

#the old guard #writing #the barrens #Rio #RIP <3 #@aumerle-that-was #vampires #long post #written by Caz

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venusofthehardsells · 5 years

Text

A Stucky soulmate AU snippet

Steve RogersxBucky Barnes, technically StuckyxReader

Summary: Trying to decide whether or not to seek out their third soulmate, Steve and Bucky reminisces their own confession in Italy during the war. Warnings: none A/N: I rewatched The First Avenger some time ago and I always loved the scene where Steve finds Bucky again at the HYDRA base so much, so I thought I would share this little piece of fluff (ish) from an unfinished soulmate AU I wrote last year. It’s just a drabble I thought was cute (not beta’ed).

The tattoo on Bucky’s leg felt as if it were ablaze all the way from his thigh to the point of his hip where it curved towards his belly button. From the way the sensation burned, he was honestly amazed that his black sweat pants weren’t cinders yet.

“So…,” he managed after a while when it became clear that Steve wasn’t going to be the one to speak first. “Tell me what you think?”

“Well, it’s like you said. We’re not exactly normal people…” Steve hesitated. “Besides, I have you. And you know that I-“

“I love you too, Steve,” Bucky sighed and leaned into Steve’s arms. Resting his head on Steve’s shoulder had become the most natural thing in the world. To think that they had had to hide back in the days…

It had taken Bucky the better part of his adolescence to come to terms with his feelings for his best friend, and a war, German super-serum, a hot brunette from across the pond and a brush with death to make him confess them. Not to mention enough alcohol to almost render him unconscious. In fact, he only had Steve’s word for how it had happened.

Bucky had begun drinking early in the evening after it had been decided that Captain America and his small group of personally selected soldiers would be going back to the continent to destroy HYDRA’s facilities. He had seen how Steve had looked at Peggy Carter back then, fierce, intelligent, beautiful Peggy, and decided he had to say something before he grew mad with jealousy. He had downed another drink.

The next thing Bucky remembered was waking up in Steve’s bed with a hangover that could kill an elephant and a smile on his face so big he was sure his cheeks would crack with it.

“Sometimes, I think I love you so much it’s going to kill me.”

“It already did,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s hair; the fuzzy, blue hairband tickled his lips. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but look at the facts, Buck. Our love cost us both our lives. Or at least seventy years of them. It nearly tore the Avengers apart. What if…” He gulped, but it had to be said. “What if our love ends up killing her, too?”

“It won’t.” Bucky’s voice came out much firmer than he had planned for. He took Steve’s hand into his right, the one that was still human, and pressed a kiss onto his knuckles. “We can’t let it destroy anything else. But maybe… I don’t know…”

He bit his lip and stopped talking. He wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to say and it would probably be stupid anyway. Instead, he said: “do you remember when you found me at Red Skull’s base in Italy? During the war?”

Steve scoffed, but smiled nonetheless.

“How could I forget? I’d probably never been so relieved in my entire life. I thought you were dead…” Steve drew Bucky closer and rested his forehead on Bucky’s slightly tanner one. “When you opened your eyes I thought I was going to kiss you,” he admitted in a whisper; his breath brushed over Bucky’s lips as he said it.

“I wish you had. That I might actually remember,” Bucky chuckled in an attempt to sound a little less morose. It would never cease to bother him that he had been too drunk to remember their first kiss. “But that’s the thing... All the time I was locked up there, when they experimented on me, I thought of you. Only you. And I told myself if I ever got out of there, I would let you know exactly how I felt about you. How I’d always felt about you. It was one of the only things that kept me sane…” He stopped to swallow the knot that formed in his throat and Steve squeezed his hands. Bucky sighed. “And then when I thought it was over for good, there you were…” There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t hold back a bitter smile. “With your stupid perfect lips, blue eyes and damned sunshine hair… And instead of telling you I loved you I said something dumb like… you’d gotten taller, I think.”

Steve closed the hairline space between them in a searing kiss. His lips moved urgently on Bucky’s as if he would disappear if they broke apart. It was the first time Bucky told him about this and it warmed and clawed at him in equal measure. When even their super soldier endurance had to give up and they stopped kissing in order to breathe, their fingers were so tightly intertwined Steve had broken two nails on Bucky’s metal hand and both of their knuckles were scattered with little crescent marks.

“It doesn’t matter now…”

“Yes it does, Stevie. I felt like an absolute coward, ate at me for days… Days we could have had together if I’d just said something. It’s lost time.” He fixed Steve with a hard, desperate glare. “I don’t wanna lose any more.”

“You want to meet her.”

“I do.” Bucky bit his lip, a gesture that always made Steve’s heart do a somersault. “I owe you and Tony everything. I’ve done nothing but horrible things for decades and the things you’ve done for me anyway… In all those years with HYDRA, I had nothing. I want to be selfish now. I know we’re both damaged goods, I know there’ll always be a risk to anyone close to us, but god damn it Steve, I want her, I want us! I want this so much it hurts…” His voice trembled. “I know I probably don’t deserve it,” he whispered. “And neither does she. But I can’t help it, I at least want to get to know her. Do you think… would that be alright with you?”

Bucky’s pale glacier blue eyes were wide and apprehensive in meeting Steve’s cerulean ones.

“Yes. I want to meet her too,” Steve answered quietly as if he couldn’t quite believe himself. “Honestly, I also want to be selfish about this, even though I know I shouldn’t...” He sucked in a deep breath. Somewhere deep down, he knew they were being reckless if not downright irresponsible. Every single possible scenario in which this decision could turn out to be a bad idea was playing out in his mind, but he pushed them down and looked up at the photo of the girl again. The mere thought of how happy Bucky had looked when they realised their soulmarks were only two of a set of three was enough to make him agree to anything. Besides, he couldn’t really lie to himself. As much as the idea of another soulmate terrified him, it also made a feeling of tentative warmth slowly spread throughout his body, frail like a web of spun sugar that could snap at any moment. But the longer he allowed it to grow, the more he came to realise that he wanted it, the three of them, just as badly as Bucky.

Steve folded his arms around Bucky, who hugged him back so hard anyone else would probably have been crushed.

“Then let’s go meet our girl.”

#bucky barnes x steve rogers #stucky #stucky fanfiction #bucky x steve #stucky x reader #stucky drabble #marvel fanfic #soulmate au #not everything has to be sad and miserable with me okay

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brooklyn-1918 · 4 years

Text

Mighty Oaks

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter, The Howling Commandos. Pretty much everyone from The First Avenger.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Summary: Steve has always been told “mighty oaks from little acorns grow.” He just never knew what that meant to him.

Warnings: Language, poor written smut, fluff and angst. 18+ only.

Word count: 4550

A/N: I wrote this for @thinkoutsidethebex ‘s writing challenge, which I had a hell of a lot of fun with. It’s also my first time that I have posted anything that I have written for one of my ships, so I don’t know how well this is going to blow over.

Also, I got the proverb “mighty oaks from little acorns grow”.

Anywho, enjoy.

People say that mighty oaks from little acorns grow, right? Right now, Steve’s not convinced. Alone and cornered in an alley, the date is August 18, 1942, 4:30 in the afternoon. And Steve is already on his third fight today.

In his defence, the first one was NOT his fault, and the second he didn’t fully mean to start. This one, though, Steve damn well meant it. He stands defiantly towards the bully, chin jutted out and fists balled at his sides. The red headed man laughs, stepping forward. Steve takes one step closer and the man laughs harder.

Steve can’t for the life of him figure out what’s so funny. Until he sees the man flex his fingers, and a small silver knife falls from his sleeve, and into his grip.

“Shit.” Steve mutters, eyes darting around for some sort of escape.

“You really think that your life is worth it? Protecting some girl?” The slimeball twirls the knife in his fingers, taunting, toying. Steve can’t find a way out. So he does the one thing he can think of.

He dives to the left, crashing into a pile of trash bins, and grabs a lid. Popping up, he hurls the lid with all his might. Granted, not much might, but points to him for trying. It spins through the air, and crashes into the man’s nose with a sickening crunch, making him stumble backwards with his hand over his face. Steve hurtles a pile of trash, and races out of the alley.

The guy shouts behind him, and Steve narrowly avoids the knife as it is hurled at him with scary accuracy. Steve doesn't stop running until he stumbles through his front door, on the verge of having an asthma attack.

Bucky looks up from his spot on the couch, untying his shoes from the day’s work. The brunette stands abruptly, dropping one shoe off his lap, and shaking the other off his foot as he trots over to him.

“Stevie? What happened?” He puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and wrenches him upright, looking at all the bruises and nicks on his face and hands. Steve gives him a grumpy look and refuses to talk. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh, and leads him to sit on the sofa.

He leaves to grab a washcloth, running it under the bathroom faucet. Taking it back in, he wipes away the street grime and the stray drops of blood, going gently around the tender skin of his black eye.

“What happened?” Bucky tries again, placing two fingers under his chin and lifting his head. Steve frowns again, and begins to recount the stories of his three separate encounters. And by the time he is done, Bucky has sat on the floor in front of him, staring dumbly at the little blond.

“You’re lucky I love you, you punk.” Bucky manages to say, shaking his head and dropping the now warm cloth next to him. He pushes up with a tired arm to lean forward, his lips connecting with Steve’s.

Steve smiles as he wraps a hand around Bucky’s nape, pulling him closer. Bucky swings around to sit on the couch, moving Steve to sit on his lap, kiss never breaking. Bucky begins to work at the knot of Steve’s tie as Steve begins to grind down, growing harder by the second.

Steve pops the buttons of Bucky’s dirty white henley, before moving onto the buttons of his own button down. Bucky trails his fingers down Steve’s back, then slides them around to firmly grip his boyfriend’s waist, grinding up against him.

He jumped slightly as Steve’s cold fingers slid under his shirt, working it up and over his head, their mouths only breaking apart once he needed to pass the shirt over. He tosses it, not caring where it landed, and begins to leave a trail of kisses down Bucky’s jaw, to his neck, and finally, to his shoulder, sucking at his pulse point. Bucky groans as Steve runs his hands over his toned abs and chest, then quickly moves his hands to rid Steve of his own shirt, exposing his thin frame. Bucky moves his hands back to Steve’s hips, and stands abruptly, Steve hooking his feet behind Bucky. Moving slowly, he makes it to the bedroom, shutting the door and collapsing down on the old mattress.

_____

It's June of the next year, Steve has just been denied enlistment for the fifth time, and he still somehow has found himself cornered in another alley, this time for trying to get some asshole to stop shouting out during a picture. Just his luck. His eyes dart around, and he does it again. He grabs the lid of a trash bin, holding it in front of him like a shield.

He isn’t fast enough when the guy swings his fist around to connect with his jaw, knocking him to the ground with a grunt.

“Hey!” He hears.

“Pick on someone your own size.” Steve knows that voice. He pushes himself up and turns around just as the guy is running out of the alley. Steve can feel his stomach drop out as he lays eyes on his boyfriend, clad in a military uniform.

“How many times is this? And really, Jersey?” Bucky is busy straightening out the medical examination card, eyes down, unsure if he would be able to take the look he just KNOWS is on Steve’s face. Steve draws in a shaky breath, then speaks.

“You got your orders.” He doesn't pose it as a question, but he keeps his voice low, masking the brokenness of it all. Bucky finally looks up, giving a mock salute.

“Sergeant James Barnes, 107th.” Bucky places his arm around Steve’s shoulders with a little laugh, then pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Come on.” Bucky huffed a laugh, forcing a smile to his face.

“Where we going?” Steve asked, trying to keep the solemn tone from his voice. It wasn’t working. Bucky bit his lip and gave a shake to the blond.

“The future. I got us some cover tonight.”

_____

The “date” went about as well as any cover date could have gone. To the outside world, it looked like Bucky was with the brunette, and Steve was with the blonde, not that it was two illegal pairings.

Of course, the Stark expo had not held Steve’s interest for very long. The floating car was OK, but when he had turned around, there was an enlistment sign, pointing him in the right direction. With a glance back over his shoulder, he decided that he could try his luck. He snuck off to go find it.

Bucky had caught up with him quickly, giving him a little push from behind and telling him that they were going to bring Dottie and Claire dancing. Steve told him he could go on without him, that he was going to try again. Bucky had gotten mad, getting into a little argument.

Bucky hadn’t been able to stay mad for long, though. He shook his head and brought Steve in for a hug, wishing he could kiss him silly in public. That was the last time Bucky would see Steve for another three months, the last time he would see Steve at that size.

Steve got into the supersoldier program that night.

_____

Steve thinks about the phrase his mother had told him years ago.

“Mighty oaks from little acorns grow, now don’t you forget that Steven Grant Rogers.” She had ruffled his hair and sent him to bed.

Yeah, Steve is REALLY not feeling that. He has fallen in the mud again, grunting as he tries to get his thin legs back under him. Hodges had hit him with the stock of the training rifle again, right to the gut. If looks could kill, Steve was pretty sure that he would have killed him by now.

Hell hath no fury like an angry Steve Rogers.

So he runs harder, barely overtaking the guy in the second to last position. He drops the gun and jumps at the rope ladder, but his leg slips through and he falls back, an annoyed look on his face as the drill sergeant yells at him and a few of the other guys laugh at him.

“I bet Bucky didn’t have to go through this.” He grumbles to himself as he pulls back up, resuming his climb.

It was these very events that made it hard to believe he was the one chosen to partake in the experiment. At first, he thought it was some sick joke they were playing on him. Then, when he returned to the barracks and his was the only stuff there, it sunk in.

_____

Steve lay strapped to the table as it flipped up, the doors closing around him. Dr. Erskine had said that the serum would not only give him a pristine physical form, but would cure any and all illnesses he had. And by God he hoped he was right. He hoped that he was right when him and Bucky would sit up, talking late into the night about how neither of them thought their love was an illness. He hoped he was right that there was one thing the serum would not be able to change.

Love was pain, and he was willing to live with the pain he sufferers every day in order to not give up Bucky. That's the one thing he doesn't think he would be able to live with. Giving up Bucky.

The door shuts and the pain starts. Dull at first, but it grows until he feels like his bones are on fire, his vision going white. He tries not to yell out, but as it grows unbearable, he cries out. He can hear shouting for the machine to get turned off, so he shouts for them to keep going. He grits his teeth and stays quiet.

He can hear the strap around his stomach break, the thrumming of the machine deafening, the light blinding. Outside, sparks fly and the power dies all at once, leaving Steve trapped in the hot metal sarcophagus. The doors pop open and let in a rush of much welcomed cool air. He may not yet be mighty, but he certainly is bigger.

He opens his eyes as the doctor and Howard Stark help him off the mechanism. Steve thinks for a panicked moment, his love for Bucky doesn't seem to have been changed. Then Peggy asks him how he feels, reaching out to just barely touch his newly defined pectoral muscle. His skin crawls at the touch, and he resists the urge to smile because, yup, he still is very much in love with Bucky. They were right. He smiles.

_____

Steve’s next two months fly by in a storm of dancing USO girls, and propaganda. And as he sits backstage of the latest show, in the middle of rainy Italy, he can’t help but think about how close he could be to Bucky, to his second half of his heart.

His hand absently sketches out a monkey, riding on a unicycle and carrying his shield.

“Hello, Steve.” He jumps at the voice, and turns to look over his shoulder, catching sight of Peggy Carter.

“Hi.” He says, a little surprised. She smiles and sits next to him, trying to give her comfort to him. All he can see himself as is the dancing monkey. A horn sounds and it makes him jump again, looking to the commotion of people hauling wounded out of an ambulance.

“They look like they’ve been through hell.” He says. Peggy hums beside him, and gives an explanation.

“Your audience contained what's left of the 107th.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes, the blood drained out of his face. He asks for confirmation, but doesn't get it as his patience has run out, and he’s racing out to Colonel Philips’s tent.

His one goal is to get Bucky back.

_____

Steve storms the castle. Or, factory in this case. He has unleashed his full fury, teeth grit, knuckles bloodied. He races around trying to find the prison ward, then unlocking all the cages. Hundreds of prisoners flood into the hall, but none of them the one he is so desperately searching for. He takes off in the direction that one of them points in, hoping, praying to any god there might be, that Bucky is still alive.

He finds him strapped to a table, muttering his numbers, eyes glazed over. Steve quickly makes sure the room has no video feeds, and he rips the straps off.

“Bucky!” He calls, placing his hand over his beloved’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the bone. Bucky’s eyes slip back into focus, and he squints at Steve.

“Steve?” He asks, lifting his arm to grip the blond’s shoulder. He looks confused for only a minute until Steve bends down to lock lips with him. Like Prince Charming waking Snow White from her poisoned slumber, Bucky bolts upright.

“Come on, we gotta go Buck.” Steve helps him off the table, and they hobble their way out of the factory, questions of how and why and when rattling from Bucky’s mouth.

“I’ll explain later.” Is what Steve eventually gives Bucky.

_____

Steve doesn't leave Bucky’s side for the next few days. They sit in Steve’s dimly lit tent, rain pouring on top of them. Sitting side by side, Steve’s hand rests on Bucky’s knee as he explains things.

“And here we are, sitting in this muddy hell.” Steve finishes. Bucky hums, tracing up Steve’s muscular forearm with one finger. Bucky leans his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, testing out the new odd feeling of having both more muscle padding and more height. He switches so his chin is resting on his shoulder, his icy blue eyes staring into Steve’s sky blue.

Steve leans down to kiss him, tongue tracing the seam of his lips for entry. Bucky yields, and their kiss deepens. Steve twists his body so they are facing each other, one leg on the bed, the other dangling over the edge. Hands card through hair, and breathing gets more erratic.

This is how Peggy finds them.

“Captain, we need to discuss--” She walks into his tent, eyes trained on the file in her arms before looking up. They had broken apart in time to not have actually been caught in the act, but their appearances were proof enough. Both wore their undershirts with casual base pants, matching disheveled hair. Steve had a hickey at the base of his neck, and Bucky was covered in little nips.

Steve stood quickly, eyes wide in terror. They were sure to be thrown out of the army, most likely put in jail or put through correctional treatment. Bucky remained frozen on the bed. Peggy’s jaw dropped, file drooping until it was at her side. Steve reached his hand out, then withdrew it like he was going to get burned.

“Look, Peggy, I can ex--”

“I knew it.” Peggy whispers, looking from one to the other. They looked at her dumbfoundedly.

“Your secret is safe with me. I’ll just leave this here.” She says as she places the file on the end of Steve’s cot. She turns to go back out into the rain, but stops to say one last thing.

“You may want to consider something a bit more private.” She smiles warmly at them, and exits, the flaps swinging lightly as they close.

_____

Not a week later they find themselves walking through the woods around base, both of them having the day to themselves. Naturally they decide to spend it together. Steve holds out his arm to stop Bucky, and points up the hill to a stone outcropping, more rock forming a cave underneath.

They haul each other up, climbing inside, where it’s surprisingly warm. Steve takes off his shirt, leaving his undershirt, and balls it up to use as a pillow. Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, and gripps his tank top. They can see the whole base from the cave, high on the hill above the treetops. Beyond, is a town, half destroyed by bombs, but still standing.

“It’s nice up here.” Bucky comments, his voice echoing quietly off the back wall, sounding around the small space.

“Yeah. Too bad we can’t spend more time here.” Steve sighs. He brings his hand up to twist through Bucky’s hair, playing with the short strands at the base of his neck. Bucky chuckles softly.

“May as well make the best of it then.” Steve is almost confused at his words, but then the brunette climbs on top of him, straddling his waist. Steve grins wickedly as he immediately goes to pull Bucky’s shirt down his shoulders. He sits up, holding Bucky in place by his hips, which have begun to grind down against him. Bucky slides his fingers under Steve’s undershirt, then up the toned stomach and chest, gathering the fabric on the way, stopping briefly to pinch at Steve’s nipples, which are hardening just the same as some other things. He finally lets go and slides the shirt off, before removing his own.

“You’re beautiful. Did you know that?” Steve asks, a flirty smile on his face.

“You only tell me every day.” Bucky retorts. Steve growls and flips them over, pinning Bucky to the ground. With his hands over his wrists, he begins to move his hands up slowly, a silent command for Bucky to leave his arms on the ground. Bucky twitches as Steve’s light touches tickle the skin on his arms, causing Steve to see if what he was doing was alright. Bucky gave a nod and Steve moved down, unbuttoning Bucky’s pants. He slipped his fingers under the edge of his boxers, then he quickly shoved them down, exposing Bucky’s excited member.

Steve trailed kisses down from his navel, towards the inside of his thigh, giving Bucky a few strokes.

“So beautiful.” Steve murmurs as he sinks his mouth down around Bucky’s length, precum drizzling out of the tip. Bucky gasps, and can’t help as his hands go to Steve’s head, holding him in place. His hips buck as Steve begins to move up and down, breathing deeply through his nose.

He pulls off of him with a wet pop, saliva trailing from his lip all the way down. Even in the dim light, Steve can see how his lover’s eyes are almost black with lust. He’s sure his are the same. Bucky sits up, hooking his hands under Steve’s armpits, dragging him up to lay on top of him. Steve happily goes with him, but props himself on his elbows, hovering almost nose to nose. Eyes locked, Bucky snakes his hands between them to undo Steve’s pants, pushing them down his hips.

Steve dives forward to kiss the life out of Bucky, nipping at his lip before going back down his neck. Bucky reaches around to give Steve a few experimental tugs, Steve hard and aching as he moans softly. The blond moves to prop up on just one arm, the other joining where Bucky’s hand lay. Steve pushes one finger into Bucky, bending his knuckle just slightly, enough to bring Bucky up as he arches his back into Steve, a gasp escaping his slack jaw.

“God… Steve--” is all Bucky can manage to say, squirming slightly under him. Steve chuckles slowly, adding in a second, then third finger, twisting them to have Bucky gasp out his name the same way that he just did.

Pulling his fingers out, Bucky wimpers, feeling empty at the loss of the touch. He is about to protest before he groans in ecstasy, Steve’s cock filling him up as he thrusts in almost to his base.

“This feel good?” Steve asks, his voice low, thumb now rubbing slow circles on Bucky’s side. The brunette grins widely, before he grabs Steve’s free hand and presses his fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle.

“Shit, Steve… Please…” He whines. Steve takes that as his cue, and begins to move his hips back and forth, rocking them to the beat of each breath he took. Bucky’s breath skips, rattling as he takes the steamy cave air in. Bucky nearly breaks Steve’s hand as he grips it.

“Please.” Bucky begs, pushing his hips up to get more force. Steve smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth, nipping his lip on the way up. Bucky’s soft plea was everything Steve needed to start completely railing him, thrusts becoming slightly more erratic as he neared the edge.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect… And so damn tight.” Steve growled in his ear, sucking on his earlobe. Bucky’s back arched up once more, nails dragging down Steve’s back, leaving long red welts. Bucky moans as he cums, his juices spraying over Steve’s abdomen.

Voices just down the hill make them panic. They are far, but can be made out as the voices of Falsworth and Dougan coming closer. Steve’s head snaps up, and he pulls out quickly, fixing his pants and tugging his undershirt back on, Bucky scrapes his back on the wall of the cave as he shoots up, undershirt thrown on, then green base shirt, buttoning up until the last two.

Steve is fixing his hair, looking wildly around for his shirt, to which Bucky throws it at him, hitting him in the face just as the two Commandos pop their heads into the mouth of the cave. Steve laughs and kicks the toe of Bucky’s boot from his spot on the opposite wall, unfolding his shirt to sling back over his broad shoulders.

“Hey, Cap.” Dougan says, pulling himself in, nodding to the sergeant sitting on the opposite wall. Steve is just managing to control his laughter, and to regulate his breathing when Falsworth clambers in, Bucky shooting him a mad grin.

“What’re you doing the whole way up here?” Dougan asks as he slumps against the wall next to him, twirling his bowler hat in his fingers. Falsworth leans against the wall next to Bucky, looking back and forth between the two brooklynites.

“Just getting reacquainted.” Steve says, causing Bucky to snort, reciprocating Steve’s kick with one of his own.

“What about you?” Bucky questions, brushing some dirt off his pants.

_____

The train rattles under the soldiers, speeding through the snowy alps. Bullets fly and beams of blue light blaze, the fight hot. Steve’s feet are knocked out from under him, and he goes crashing into the floor, his shield bouncing away from him.

Bucky picks it up and fires at the German soldier once, twice, three times, shield held in front of him. The soldier turns and fires, blasting dead center to the shield, blowing the brunette sideways and through a hole in the side of the train car.

Steve’s eyes widen and he throws the metal disk with everything he has, contacting it to his chest, where he picks up the sound of ribs breaking through the armour. Before the disk hits the ground again, he has scrambled to the hole, reaching out shouting over the whipping wind.

“Grab my hand!” He cries, chest constricting. Bucky reaches out, his fingers brushing his love’s. His face is riddled with terror, hand trembling, but he can’t reach.

The bar breaks and time stands still. Steve can only stare, paralized with fear, feeling his heart shatter.

Bucky falls away with a shout.

As he’s falling, Bucky shuts his mouth to silence his scream. He can’t let Steve hear him like this. He can’t let his last memory be of Bucky’s anguish.

So he twists to his left, enough that his arm catches on a jagged rock ledge, shattering the bone and tearing at the flesh. The last thing he remembers is landing on his back, his head hitting the ground and knocking him out.

And as he lays on the ground bleeding out, he smiles as his life plays before him. One. Last. Time.

_____

Steve staggers out of the debriefing, barely containing his emotions. He stops in the middle of the camp, mud splashing up and over his boots, contemplating on if he should go back to his tent.

Unknown to him, the commandos watched him as he turned and wandered into the woods. Unknown to him, the commandos followed.

Once he got deep enough into the trees, he stopped, scanning the snowy landscape ahead of him. He dropped heavily to his knees, sitting back on his heels, hands lay palm up on his thighs. The tears fell down his cheeks swifter than rivers, his entire body shaking.

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. In this moment he had never felt lower. Someone had taken an ax to his heart and hacked away until he was nothing but splinters. His head dropped so his chin hit his chest.

With a growl growing in the back of his throat, he unclipped the shield from his back and stood.

Hidden behind a few trees, the commandos narrowed their eyes, watching for what he would do. They were afraid to move, to make noise. They were scared that their own heartbreak would be heard by their captain.

With a yell, Steve threw his shield toward a tree, watching as it’s edge sliced right through and lodged in the tree behind. With a crash, the pine fell, shuddering the ground. He walked forward to his shield, and removed it from the wood, staring at the slice for a moment before he wound back and sent his fist to connect with it, splintering the trunk.

He shook his bloody, probably broken hand, warding off the blossoming pain. He twisted on his heel so he could walk to the fallen tree, sitting on the trunk.

The tears came hot and fast once more, falling like someone had just blown the Hoover dam.

The shield slipped from his grasp and landed in the snow. He moved his now free hands to hold his head up with his elbows propped on his knees.

He couldn’t let the troops see him like this. With the snot threatening to spill from his nose, and the irregular breathing, cheeks red and puffy.

Slowly, the commandos made their way from behind the trees, placing their hands on his shoulders. They sat next to him, they comforted him as best they could.

_____

The screaming cockpit filled his head. The plane was headed for the ice, and Steve was glad.

Long ago Bucky and Steve had promised each other that they would be with each other until the end of the line. And this was it.

Bucky had gotten off, and that left Steve still on the train. Steve was giving his life to save the lives of countless people, and if he had to go, he would choose it no other way. And as Peggy’s voice crackled over the radio, he smiled.

The plane hit the ice and the radio signal cut. Steve was thrown from his seat, and as he was struck unconscious, his life played before his eyes.

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. And maybe they were right. Maybe Steve was.

#Bex600ProverbChallange #stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #captain america #the winter soldier

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mindofharry · 4 years

Text

Not fair.

In which Amy starts her own music career and Harry’s really proud.

WARNING: cursing. mentions of suicide, depression and drug addiction. Harry and Amy being cute :,)) I’m using lily Allen’s ‘not fair’ for Amy’s first studio song!! It just reminds me ALOT of her. Enjoy!

Amy was scared. so scared. She wondered what Harry’s supporters would think of her now. How she walked out on Harry just before tour. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, she shouldn’t of done what she did. Obviously she was going to quit at some point. But she never wanted it to be like that. After that day Harry and Amy didn’t talk. They were strangers. Amy hated it. But she was way too stubborn to call or text him. That’s one thing they shared in common. Being way too stubborn for their own good.

After posting some covers and original songs on YouTube she decided it was time to decide what she wanted to do. Did she want to travel around the world? Did she want to go to college? Did she want to pursue her music career?

An email decided that for her.

A few months later Amy was signed onto a record label that she adored. The people there were supportive and listened to every song she wrote or sung. They let her record her own music. She had told them immediately about her past with drugs and her depression. They didn’t turn her away they helped her. Amy was so grateful to have such a supportive team. She just wished it was with Harry.

After getting her first proper single done she decided to an interview. Zane Lowe has been in touch with her before, but now she was finally ready to tell her story. They did it in her apartment. It was all very calm and zane never pushed her for an Amy was very grateful for.

“You have a new single coming out in a few days. Tell me about it!” Zane said with a warm smile. She nodded and bit her lip “it’s not a sad one. This is a fun, really fun song. It’s called not fair. It’s about sex” she said smirking and he nodded “how different is it from your older songs?” He asked.

“Uh. It’s very different. My last couple of songs that I’ve only released on YouTube are really sad songs from really sad times in my life. I wasn’t well when I was writing them. I was really depressed and the only way I could express what I was feeling was I was through songs” she said and paused taking a breathe.

“I was on drugs from 16 to 20” she said and Zayne nodded letting her know it’s ok.

“My songs were all of my emotions. They were all me” she said and looked over to the tv. “They were about times when I nearly killed my self. Where my bipolar was so bad I had quit my job. Something I loved so much” she said smiling sadly.

“How did you over come your depression and addiction. Because it’s an incredible story”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I- I was kicked out of my brothers house when I was 20. He had told me to get the fuck out of his house. Jesus did I deserve it. I was so off the wall. I can hardly remember any of it. There’s a few moments stuck in my mind. And I’m embarrassed. Really embarrassed. I remember going for my job interview with Harry. And I fucking looked a mess. But I had got the job. So I decided then and there, that this had to stop. I needed help” Amy said and rested her hand on her crossed knee.

“My depression is still here. She likes to come around December mostly. And sometimes around the time I got sober. But I’ve really gotten better. Sometimes I do just want to stay in bed. Or just have a bit of cocaine. Just a bit. But I never do” she paused and looked up at zayne “I’m forever grateful for Harry and the band. Because if i didn’t get that job, I don’t think I’d be alive” she said and straightened herself up.

“It’s really different being by yourself, right?” He asked pushing up his glasses.

“Yes and no. Although I miss the guys. A lot. I feel a lot more true to myself and free. It’s hard being by yourself all the time. But I have my brother, his wife and my little nephew mickey” she said smiling thinking about her family.

“Tell me about your family” he asked and she took a sharp intake.

“Well my mum left when I was really young. I don’t blame her at all. She was really fucking depressed. I had blamed her for most of my teen years. But my brother had told me she was depressed only recently. I was hurt. But I stopped blaming her. I just want her to know that I love her. That we could’ve got help. But it’s all in the past. My dad on the other hand, I really don’t have the time of day for. He had left after things got too hard. And recently tried to get in contact with me asking for money. I used to really love him. He used to play stevie nicks for us everytime we would play outside or before bed. And be taught me how to play guitar. I’m grateful for whatever time we had together. But that’s it” she said and messed with her skirt.

“My brother is the best” she said laughing “he’s super fucking stupid. But I love him. It was just me and him for a while so he was basically mum, dad and brother for me” Amy said with a small smile “he done so much for me. I really don’t know where I’d be without him. His wife is the best and she’s like the sister I never had. Always helping me and supporting me. Mickey or Micheal. He’s my little angel” she giggled.

“He reminds me so much of me it’s unreal” she said and played with her hair “he loves Stevie as much as me and Harry love her” she said and zayne laughed knowing how much they both love her.

“Tell me about Harry” he smirked and she rolled her eyes with a small smirk.

“I really do love Harry. And really grateful for all he’s done for me. He’s made so many opportunities for me and I wish I could tell him how thankful I am for him. And the end of the day I wasn’t happy and my happiness and self love comes before anything else. Harry and I weren’t really on good terms anymore when I left. He had done something’s that hurt me. More than anything. But now, all I want to do is talk to him. Apologise for all the shit I caused, ya know?”

He nodded and put a hand over her hand “your story is remarkable. You should be really proud of yourself” he smiled.

“I am” she nodded “not fair is one of my favourite songs that I’ve wrote so far. It’s just so different. I can’t wait to get on stage” she gushed.

Soon enough not fair was released.

“NOT FAIR. OUT NOW. A!”

To say twitter went crazy was an understatement. She was really fucking proud of herself.

She was invited to jingle bell ball. And shit she was scared. She only had relased the song a few days ago. Although she had a few songs already she was nervous no one would know her. Or they’d be bored.

She wore red bell bottoms with a white heels. Her top was tucked in a bit of cleavage showing. Her hair was messy and so was her makeup. Amy really did want to make a good impression but she didn’t want force it, so she was herself.

She nearly cried when she found out Harry was going to be there too. “Mickey he’s going to be there”she groaned and mickey shook his head “stop being loser Aunty Amy” he said playing with his toys. She laughed and messed up his hair before heading to back to her spot.

Soon enough she was backstage with her brother and his family. And she had her manager sammy with her too. Sammy was a real life angel. She would be an absolute mess if he wasn’t around.

“Are you ready my love?” Sammy asked and she shook her head “no I think I need to check my guitar” she said and he nodded “ok, get everything done. Your guitar is just out of here and upfront. I’ll get your body guards to go with you” he said letting out a breath. Amy rolled her eyes which were full of eyeliner and mascara. She didn’t argue she just followed the men.

She soon came to meet all the backstage workers. She stopped to shake everyone’s hand on the way introducing themselves and letting them talk to her a few minutes. She loved this part of her work. Getting to meet new people. She loved listening. And she loved talking a lot. But not about herself. She loved to just talk. About anything and everything.

She could see her guitar leaning against some equipment. She squealed and ran over to it like it was a child. The body guards laughed to themselves as they watched her tune up with her band that was playing with her.

She started on cherry wine just her playing and singing to herself. Everyone was mesmerised by her. They didn’t crowd her, but they were listening. It was rare to see such a pure artist.

Harry had arrived to the beautiful song. He knew the song well. He played it a few times. Cried and smiled to it. He had watched the interview leaving him sobbing and guilty. She didn’t have to apologise he thought. He just wanted to hug her and kiss her.

she finished her song before smiling. And started talking to her band. Harry stayed put helping his own band.

Amy had spotted him. She smiled and decided it was time to grow up.

Harry looked behind him and saw her smiling coming over. She looked beautiful. The most beautiful women ever.

“Harry” she smiled pulling him into a hug he tensed before he relaxed putting his arms around her.

“hey- hi” he stuttered before she pulled away.

“Love the new songs h. You really did good” she smiled before walking back wards “good luck”

She was up first. She was shitting it.

“Hey” she said into the microphone and the crowd was loud in response. She smiled and started her guitar and started with cherry wine.

Then she did one of her older songs dead to me which was more upbeat. She walked along the the stage singing and dancing.

Her second last song was a cover of Rhiannon which people seem to enjoy.

And then she got to not fair. She walked down the cat walk and smiled at a girl who through up an lgbtq+ flag. Amy winked and pulled the flag around her.

“This is my last song. Thank you for having me. I love you” she said and started singing.

“When we go up to bed, you’re not good, it’s such a shame” she said dancing around in her heels.

“It’s not fair” she sang and pouted.

“And I think you’re really mean”

“I think you’re really mean”

The crowd screamed as she bowed blowing a kiss before she jogged off stage.

Harry looked at her and smiled.

It really isn’t fair.

#harry styles #adore you #gif #hs1 #fine line live #fine line #harry styles blurbs #eroda #hs2 #solo harry #harrystylesera2 #or zayn malik and harry styles #harry styles blurb #model harry

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buckyos · 5 years

Text

Letters to Bucky 1

Summary: “A package is mailed to Bucky. It’s filled with what seems like hundreds of letters and photographs all to him. Memories and confessions of love are penned within those letters.”

Ship(s): Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: none I think, just lots of emotions

Word Count: 1k

Author’s Note: This is the first story I actually write so I hope you’ll enjoy it. Please leave some feedback because I’m getting back to writing and I would appreciate some comments. If you want to get tagged send me an ask. Thank you for reading.

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99 , @frenchzodiacgirl

ι. My dear

Bucky just got into the Avengers Tower after a pretty rough mission. He was going directly for a shower and then he wanted to sleep peacefully but his plans destroyed as soon as Sam saw him typically entering the main room.

“Hey tin-man, a box came for you last week. It doesn’t have a sender, though.” He said to him so Bucky simply followed him.

They got into the kitchen and Bucky thought why Sam had placed it there. Wanda was already present and near his package. She greeted him and carefully handed to him. He took it and cautiously opened it with his knife. When he examined it, he was speechless. The box was stacked of letters, torn letters to him and plenty of photographs. It was obvious all of them was pre-war. It was from the life Bucky had in the past, and since he now possessed his personal memories, he tried to think who would willingly send them to him. At that moment he recognizes it. An old photo from Coney Island it was him and a girl. His dear girl. You.

“C’ mon Barnes, tell us what it has inside we were eagerly waiting for you a week to learn what it is inside there.” Sam disturbed him out of his memories. His world started falling apart. Even though all his memories were back, some things were blank because he hadn’t anything as a reminder. Right now, he had them all and he instantly felt his heart, breaking for stupidly forgetting you.

“Before I went to war I was in a relationship. These are letters from her to me.”

“Hence, read them then.” Sam really wanted to know what all those letters were about. Steve once had mentioned to him that Bucky was in a serious relationship back in the 40s but it still intrigued Sam. And now that he had so much content, he was going to eagerly take advantage of it.

But Wanda gasped at his bluntness. «Sam, whoever wrote those letters wanted Bucky to receive them. They weren’t indicated for us.” She answered to him since when she looked at Bucky, she found him lost.

He was consumed at his thought, at his memories and all the emotions that were flooding in his mind. Since he went out of cryo in Wakanda and was back to somehow his actual self, he felt like he was lacking something. And now with only one quick look at the content of his package, he could understand why. The thing is he wasn’t sure if you would be able to go all through them alone without falling apart.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t think I can read them by myself anyway. So, Wanda, if you’ll be so kind as to take the box to the living room. I’ll take a shower and come back to wade through them to you guys.” He told them with a lost look.

“Buck” Wanda wanted to deny, but he said that it’s okay once again and left to have the shower that he so much craved. Now more than before.

—

It inevitably took Bucky more time than he though to clean himself properly because his mind was spinning with fond memories from his past. He recalled all your joyful moments together and was burdening himself for abandoning you.

You two were so close. He couldn’t comprehend it. He had stupidly forgotten the love of his life.

—

Both Sam and Wanda were in the living room when Bucky got into the room. The cardboard box was on the coffee table provided for Bucky to search through it. His hair was still wet from his shower, but he approached at the table. He carefully collected all the photos out of it and placed them at the floor. Next, he extracted all the letters out and searched for dates.

His hands on the more worn one. He carefully uncovered the envelope with shaking hands and withdrew the paper that was inside.

My dear James, You’re off to war, and I don’t know if ever I see you again. I don’t know if you ever are going to read this but I miss you and I love you and I need you to know it. I need to let it all out. So, sweet James, welcome to my chaos of a mind. God, I want so much to follow you. Abandon everything behind and be with you. I want to be sure you’re safe. To hold on to you. My heart aches every time I think about how you are doing. I’m praying for you to be safe and come back to me. Please come back to me, my love. Everyone requires a person that when they’re together the rest of the world will vanish. You were that person for me and now you’re off to war without me. I cherish you. I love you when your eyes are shining because you’ve discovered something new. I idolize you when you support Stevie without expecting anything for return. I enjoy you when we dance and you laugh when I step on your feet but you don’t stop. I embrace you when you talk about the sky, the moon, and the stars. I love you when you are you. You’re so beautiful inside out and I caress you. I can go on and on about all the reasons that I love you. And baby you have to know that you’re loved and that you deserve to be loved. I wish I could take a paper and a pencil and paint you how I perceive you. It would be the most beautiful painting the humanity would have ever seen. I would trail you when you weren’t looking. The moments when only I observe you and know that if you had ever asked me, I would give you the whole world. I cherish the slight moments we enjoyed together, the nights at the beach or the afternoons at Coney Island when we were riding every game. You’re so unique, James. And I absolutely love that I’m the only one calling you with your first name. Because as you consistently said you loved the way that it sounds and you can hear it only from me. But I want to see you so much. I miss the nights in my little room that we were making love to each other. I don’t know how much this war will go one but please James stay safe and come back to me. With plenty of love,

Your best girl.

“Wow men, this girl absolutely loved you,” Sam said gently when Bucky finished reading. There were lots of genuine emotions. Lots of sincere love. Bucky was at the brick of crying he didn’t know how much he had missed you.

He carefully gathered some of the photographs from beside him and viewed at them.

The first one was you and him in your room, Steve walked in and you were in a compromising position so he snapped a picture. He was such a little shit.

The second one was all three of you in front of a ride at the Coney Island that doesn’t exist anymore.

The third included you and Bucky slow dancing. Steve probably had snapped this one as well. And it went on and on. Every photo represented either the two of you or all three with beaming smiles. Suddenly he sighted one that was only himself.

You had photographed him when he wasn’t paying attention. He was laying an abundant grass with a book in his hands above his head. He was magnificent. He was exactly like you perceived him. He was precisely himself.

“I’ll go to sleep,” Bucky said without looking at his two friends. He carefully gathered everything and carried the entire box with him. Wanda humbly acknowledged him. He had to have time to understand all the new feelings he was getting. Because not only he had realized how much he loved and desired you but the regrets wouldn’t let him be.

Bucky slept peacefully that night for the first time. Your letter on his chest providing him the love he needed from someone that experienced him entirely since he didn’t know himself anymore.

Reblogs and feedbacks are much appreciated! ❤️

next chapter ~ my darling

series masterlist

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letteredlettered · 5 years

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i know the show shows us david's thoughts on patrick doing cabaret but can you talk about it anyway lol? "it" can be from when he first hears that patrick is thinking about auditioning to when the whole run of performances is over.... i love hearing your thoughts on stuff like this!

I was gonna say I didn’t have many thoughts on this, but then I wrote you a twenty-five point summation, so here is a cut.

1) I loved the difference between David being really mortified about Patrick wanting to do an open mic night, vs David kind of sniping at Moira for not being supportive of Patrick’s audition.

2) I feel like David’s reaction to the fact that Schitt’s Creek theater was even doing Cabaret was abject horror and they’ll ruin it

3) And then he hears Jocelyn Schitt is directing and thinks, they’ll ruin it ten times worse

4) And then he registers that he has this news because Patrick is talking about auditioning. David registers he’ll have to go to this fucking play and that Patrick is going to dance his horrible dancing and sing like a motherfucking rockstar but the production will be so bad that it’s all going to be miserable. Like even if the Jazzagals can sing, who will play Sally? Patrick is an obvious shoe-in for Cliff but ughhhhhhhhhh

5) And then David remembers that he is a supportive boyfriend who does supportive boyfriend things and a supportive boyfriend would be like, You nail that audition, honey!

6) So David says, “You nail that audition, honey!” but it accidentally sounds sarcastic and Patrick makes fun of him and then David accidentally says something about what an awful dancer Patrick is and Patrick is like, “Are we really going to compare dancing? Really?” Because David has danced for him before and David makes a snide comment about the thickness of Patrick’s thighs and Patrick makes a lustful comment about the length of David’s legs. And then they have sex.

7) There’s something really sweet and endearing about Patrick trying out for a play. Patrick is such a go-getter. He wants to be involved in the community and talk to people and try things. Like. It sounds like torture. But David wants Patrick to do all the things and succeed at all of them and sound content and happy and engaged with life here, even if it means David gets less of Patrick’s time. It means that Patrick is happy with life and happy with him and David really, really wants Patrick to be happy. Patrick is perfect when he’s happy and everything is awful when he’s upset.

8) Then Moira takes over the production and David feels a lot better about the whole thing.

9) Then David realizes Moira is in charge of the production and David feels a lot worse about the whole thing.

10) Then Patrick gets cast as the Emcee which David thinks is serious miscasting, but then he realizes his mother is a genius because Patrick is obviously the sexiest man in the entire village (he sometimes thinks of Schitt’s Creek as a medieval village; it’s a whole thing) and the Emcee should be the sexiest one.

11) David immediately starts planning Patrick’s makeup and costume.

12) Moira shows him thoughts/designs for costumes and invites David to help. David immediately starts scaling back all thoughts of Patrick’s costume to something Patrick would feel comfortable wearing, because none of David’s fantasies were appropriate and now that it’s a real thing all he wants is for Patrick to look cute and feel comfy. And also fit perfectly within the entire aesthetic of the show which he has designed from top to bottom in his mind and matches his mother’s almost perfectly.

13) David’s glad about Patrick getting to spend all this time with Mom because sometimes David gets the feeling Patrick doesn’t like his parents. Like Patrick thinks David’s parents mistreated him or something? Which is cute that his boyfriend is all defensive but Patrick just doesn’t really understand them. Like he understands them but doesn’t understand them.

14) David’s terrified about Patrick getting to spend all that time with Mom because Patrick doesn’t understand them.

15) Like what if Patrick gets annoyed and realizes David’s going to turn into Moira (David’s kind of afraid of turning into Moira) and then doesn’t want him any more? Because there is no man on earth who is as patient and faithful as Johnny Rose.

16) David makes a rule about how Patrick can’t talk about the play with him.

17) David immediately breaks this rule and continues to break it over and over.

18) Like the play isn’t his business. He isn’t even really interested. Just because he used to want to do costume and set design professionally, whatever, he doesn’t c--she cast Stevie as Sally, what the fuck was she thinking, can Stevie even sing?

19) Okay Stevie can sing. But Jewel doesn’t count. Get over your 90s singer songwriters, Stevie, he says, as he pops in more Mariah Carey. Mariah is different because she LASTED, Stevie. Unlike some Jewels we know.

20) Stevie contends the Jewel became a country artist, and she and Patrick bond over it, and David hates it when they do that.

21) David also loves it when they do that. He never consciously thinks about being glad that Patrick and Stevie are friends with each other, but nights getting drunk with the two of them are some of the best nights of his life, and he doesn’t realize it but it works because all three of them really, really like each other.

22) Sometimes Patrick gets chatty about how things are going with the play and at first David was super interested for drama and lulz and worry about Patrick Vs His Mother the 2019 showdown, but it is actually all sounding kind of normal so David is less interested. He loves to hear Patrick talk about it though, like how happy Patrick is and how interested he is in things and how there are characters David knows in his stories and sometimes David does in fact stop listening and curls up against him while Patrick is going on about something--frustrated about a dance move or excited about a line reading or what the fuck ever else Patrick gets excited about and it’s so, so nice, listening to Patrick talk and be excited and think David is listening.

23) We saw all the SECRET DANCE CHOREOGRAPHER stuff on the show but I will say that David’s worry about Patrick’s dancing ability has worn down into an amused resignation. Like Patrick is terrible and we all know that but he’ll try his little heart out and it will be fine; it will all be fine; even Alexis’s singing. Whatever happens David’s already decided he’ll pretend to enjoy it and probably will ACTUALLY enjoy it because it’s Patrick and it’s Stevie and it’s Mom and it’s Alexis and he’ll probably sit next to Dad and Dad will be proud, like Dad is always proud of Mom, no matter what she is doing, despite how far they have fallen. Dad never acts ashamed of Mom ever, and David is going to be a boyfriend like Dad.

24) The production is amazing and Patrick is hot and David doesn’t have to pretend. He does kinda wish he’d gotten Patrick to wear the sexy version of the costume, but fucking him in that makeup after the failed engagement announcement will have to do.

25) Much later David says something about Patrick’s dancing and Patrick teases him about it. So you liked it, Patrick goads, and David is annoyed and like, if you dance like you’re fucking me surrounded by gorgeous women of course I’m going to like it, and Patrick thinks this is so so so fucking funny. Like for days, he finds this funny, and David is very disgruntled.

#schitt's creek #david/patrick #Anonymous

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cassiopeiassky · 5 years

Text

Travelling Soldier (I Cried)

So once upon a time I wrote this songfic called Travelling Soldier, based on the Dixie Chicks’ song, because it was quite literally blocking my brain from continuing WEMtbB. It was, I think, the second, maybe third fic I ever wrote way back in 2016. Just to get it out of my brain and free up bandwidth, I wrote in one night and posted it, and I’ve pretty much hated it ever since. I took it down, but it still pops up in my notifications from time to time and I cringe every. damn. time.

So I redid it! Was it blocking me again? Why yes. Yes it was, and I’m infinitely happier with this version. I filled it out, gave it more depth (I hope) and did some research. It still isn’t 100% historically accurate, but the song wasn’t either and so I had to kinda make peace with the inaccuracies.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 5353

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war, Vietnam war, character death.

Sunday, March 12, 1967

It was a normal Sunday morning at the café; the first morning rush is done, and now there should be a lull until the after-church crowd hits at half past eleven. After straightening the ribbon serving as a headband and making sure the bow is on top, you deftly collect your tip and wipe down the last table so you can refill the salt shakers. If you’re lucky, you should be able to get an hour or so of studying done before it picks up again. Tim, the café’s owner and cook, is more than happy to let you study while it’s slow as long as you’re prepared for the busy times. Junior year of high school is no joke, especially when you’re taking Honors level classes.

Closing your American History textbook at exactly 10:45, you look through the big plate glass window to see a young man waiting at the bus stop across the street. He’s in his army greens; he strikes a handsome figure, but he looks a little unsure. It’s no wonder, you think to yourself, this war is awful and feels like it’s been going on forever. There have been so many soldiers leaving but not nearly enough coming home.

You thank God every night for the fact that you don’t have any brothers. Your daddy served in WWII; you’ve heard the stories. He’d wanted a son, but now he’s just as grateful as you that he never got one.

You try to distract yourself from your thoughts by humming a tune as you pack up your books. After returning your backpack to the back room you straighten your bow once again – the silly thing keeps sliding down – and check to see that your apron is on straight before heading back out to the dining area.

Someone has taken a seat in the window booth of your section; the one that you were seated at just a few minutes ago. “Hi, welcome! May I take your order?” You don’t notice until you’re standing next to the table that it’s the young man you’d seen waiting across the street.

Seated now in front of you is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, with striking blue-grey eyes, brunette hair, and a sweetly shy smile that you can’t help but think would be devastating under better circumstances.

“Hello, miss,” his voice is quiet but even as he removes his hat and places it neatly on the table. “Just a coffee, please.”

“Sure thing, I’ll have it right out.” You nod as you head over to the beverage station and return shortly with a cup, a carafe of freshly brewed coffee, sugar, and cream. You bite your lip, trying to find a reason to stay in the presence of the boy with the enchanting smile for just a few seconds longer. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” He doesn’t seem a while lot older than you, but he’s old enough to be a soldier so you treat him with the respect you feel he deserves.

“Oh no, miss, you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he shakes his head slightly and looks down as a blush dusts his cheeks; if you hadn’t already been entranced you would be now. “My name is James, but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Well, then you don’t have to call me ‘miss.’” You give him your name as his shy smile transforms into a brilliant grin. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“That’s a real pretty name,” he murmurs before taking a deep breath. “I know it’s not in your job description, but would you mind sitting down for a while and talking to me? I’m feeling a little low,” he confesses. “I’m early – my bus won’t be here for a few more hours – and, well, I guess I’d rather spend my time talking to someone like you than thinking about where I’m headed.”

How could you say no? There’s just something about him.

“I’m off in an hour and I know where we can go,” you reply brightly, almost not believing that someone as handsome as him would take an interest in a bookish person like yourself.

But Bucky nods, flashing you a lopsided grin, “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

The minutes drag by, and you find yourself looking over at his table without even meaning to. He’s caught you a few times, and you’ve caught him stealing glances as well; eventually the two of you are gazing at each other like idiots from across the room.

“Honey, ain’t you a little young for him?” Tim leans across the counter as he grins at you. He’s a kind man in his late 60s, with a shock of unruly white hair and a deeply lined face etched from decades of joy and sadness. He and his wife, Esmeralda, hadn’t been able to have kids so they tend to more or less adopt the people that come to work for them; he’s practically a grandfather to you.

“Oh, leave her alone, Tim,” Esmeralda pats your cheek with a grandmotherly affection, “That boy looks like he must have lied on his enlistment form, cause he sure doesn’t look like he’s even graduated high school yet.” She turns to you and whispers with a wink, “He’s cute, and he’s clearly taken a liking to you. Make sure you find out where he’s headed so you can send him some letters.”

Caught somewhere between mortified and encouraged, you just nod.

Esmeralda laughs as she shakes her head, “Just head on out, honey. You’ve only got 10 minutes left anyway so I’ll finish up your last table.”

Well, she certainly doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Thanks Esmeralda!” You give her a quick squeeze and speed walk into the back room.

“Deep breath, deep breath,” you mutter while absolutely not following your own advice. What are you doing? You are technically allowed to date but is a soldier really the best idea? This war has taken so much and there’s no end in sight – and good heavens your daddy would be so upset – but there’s something about him that won’t let you go. “Oh, for crying out loud, he asked for some company, not your hand in marriage. Get a grip on yourself.” This time you more or less listen to your instructions, but you figure it still doesn’t hurt to look your best so you redo your ribbon, secure the bow on top, and remove your apron before swiping on a bit of lip balm. It feels like it took forever, but you can finally retrace the steps back to his table.

He’s already standing as he watches as you approach, his smile getting wider the closer you get.

“Are you ready, Bucky?”

“I sure am.” He holds out his arm for you to take – internally you’re screaming about what a handsome gentleman he is, but outwardly you’re mostly calmly as you link yours with his. It feels right.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you are sitting at the edge of the pier with your feet dangling above the water.

“What school do you go to?” Bucky squints into the sunlight as he lets his head fall back.

Trying not to be obvious, you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He seems a bit more comfortable now, and God, the lights in the café hadn’t done him justice. He’s beautiful. “I’m a Junior at Southside.”

He laughs unexpectedly. “Ah, so you’re a Tiger!”

“You know our mascot?”

He grins mischievously, “Only cause I was an Eagle.”

“You went to Baxton Hall?” The crosstown rivalries between the two schools is well known in your area – it makes for some really charged football games and some really bizarre pranks.

“Sure did.”

Taking a deep, dramatic breath as you clutch at your pretend pearls, you giggle, “Oh no, I hope no one sees me fraternizing with the enemy!”

He plays along with sparkling eyes, “Well if I had known you were there, I would have willingly defected.”

You duck your head as the heat rises to your face as you wish fervently for words to come. Why can’t you flirt? Why are you so bad at this?

Bucky seems to sense your sudden shyness because he slightly changes the direction of the conversation as he leans toward you. “You’re real easy to talk to.” He looks down and studies his hands in his lap. “It only would have been for a couple of years, but it would have been nice.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that overrules your bashfulness. “Didn’t you have a lot of friends at Baxton?” He definitely would have been one of the most popular boys at your school.

“Not really, no. Just a few. Most of the people in my class didn’t want to sit with the kid that was orphaned at 8 years old – they never knew what to say.” Your heart clenches at his words but he perks up, “But I did have Stevie. He and his ma took me in; they became my family. But then Stevie got sick a couple years ago and didn’t survive the winter, and Sarah didn’t survive losing him. She passed last summer. She said I made her proud, though. Said I was the first in her family to graduate high school, and she was even prouder that I did it a year early.”

“You graduated at seventeen?”

“Mmm hmm.” He smiles and nods. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“It was my birthday 2 days ago.”

“Really? Well happy birthday!” It’s so unlike you but you spontaneously pull him into a quick hug, nearly spilling the both of you into the water below. “You should have said something at the café, I would have gotten you a piece of pie!”

He laughs, and you wonder how someone like him happened to walk into your life. Then reality sits on your bubble, and you remember why he was waiting at that bus stop. “I wish you weren’t leaving.” The words, so forward and honest, leave your lips but when you see the hopeful look on his face you can’t find it in yourself to regret them.

“I don’t want to go,” Bucky confesses. “It was never my dream or anything, it’s just something I gotta do. For Stevie. He wanted so badly to fight for his country.” He swallows hard at the memory. “So when I realized that he was never gonna get to live his dream, I promised him I’d do it for him. I sent in my enlistment forms as early as I could, and now that I’m eighteen I can start making good on that promise.”

“You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes.”

He shrugs bashfully. “I’m trying.”

“You are.” The truth of your statement rings in your bones. You might not be able to flirt to save your life, but you’re an excellent judge of character.

He grins at you and you beam right back at him, and even though you’re young and inexperienced, you’re pretty sure the overwhelming feeling you have right now is love.

“So what do you do for fun?”

The conversation turns lighter as you tell him of your passions. He learns that you play the piccolo in the marching band, that you volunteer at the local pet clinic, and that you hope to go to college after high school. You aren’t completely sure what you want to do yet, but you do know that you don’t want to be a housewife like your momma. She’s amazing and quite honestly your hero, but she sometimes talks about how she’d wanted to become a biologist. It was a different time, though, and she had felt that the world wouldn’t allow her to follow that dream as well as the dream of having and raising a family. She chose family, but she encourages you to not settle with having to choose.

“Your ma sounds amazing.” Bucky sends a wink your way that makes your tummy flip, “That must be where you get it from.”

Thirsty for more knowledge about him, you begin peppering him with questions and learn that he loves boxing, math, and astronomy, and that he hopes that the army will eventually allow him to work within their technology development divisions. His already bright eyes light up even more as he tells you about how badly he wants to go to the moon. “You know it’s gonna happen soon! They’re gonna do it, and I hope one day I’ll be able to do it, too.”

This makes you both look up into the sky, searching for a moon that isn’t visible.

“Few more days and we’d be able to see it.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent.

“See what?”

“Yesterday was the new moon. During the first and last quarter of the moon phase you can see the moon during the day cause it is has the right positioning and isn’t too close to the sun.”

“You are so smart.” It’s hard not to stare at him, especially with the blush that’s returned to his cheeks.

“Hey,” he begins, suddenly turning shy again. “I bet you got a boyfriend, but I don’t care. I’ve got no one to send a letter to – would you mind if I sent one back here to you?”

You can’t help but smile broadly. “Bucky, I don’t have a boyfriend – my parents said that I couldn’t date until I turned seventeen, and that just happened last month.” Flashing a self deprecating smile, you continue, “It’s not like I’ve got a line of suitors banging at my door. I’m kind of a nerd.”

“Well,” Bucky begins, “their loss. If I’d met you earlier, I would’ve asked you out the morning of your birthday. A sweet, pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend, one that treats her right. If you don’t mind waiting for me, I’d love the chance to be yours.”

“Well Bucky, I think I’d love that, too,” your voice sounds much calmer than you feel as he leans in to seal the deal with a gentle kiss; your first kiss.

It’s slow and fast all at once, and when he pulls away he’s wide eyed, almost like he can’t believe he just did that. “Was…was that okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nod, maybe a little more enthusiastic than strictly necessary, and you feel the ribbon in your hair start to slide out of place. It gives you an idea. “Here,” you pull the ribbon completely out and untie the bow. “Give me your hand.” He does as you ask, and you gently loop it around his right wrist before tying another bow. “There. Now you’ll have something to remind you of me.”

Bucky stares at you with an astonished smile. “As if I could ever forget you.”

* * *

You begin to miss him before he even gets on the bus that will take him to Fort Irwin in California, but you receive the first letter in just six days, dated the day he left.

March 12, 1967,

Hello Beautiful,

I’m not even three two hours away and I had to start writing to you. I can’t get you out of my mind, and I think that’s okay. I don’t want to be too forward here, but I really you felt like home, almost like I’ve known you for my entire life. I haven’t felt that in a long time. Like I said, you’re real easy to talk to and that’s a special trait. I hope you’re doing okay, and you’ll probably get this too late but good luck on your history test on Friday. I’ll write again soon.

Yours,

Bucky

March 19, 1967,

Dear Bucky,

I passed aced it! I was worried I wouldn’t, but I did! I have a science test coming up in a few days, but I’m not worried about it because it’s about the moon and the solar system. I’ve been spending a lot of my free time reading about the moon because it reminds me of you, so I’m probably definitely more prepared than I’ve ever been for a test. And I saw it just a few days ago during the day, just like you said I would! I’d say that it made me wish you were here, but I wish that anyway. I don’t know how you did it in such a short time, but you sure got under my skin, Bucky Barnes. I hope basic is going alright for you! I’ll write again in a few days.

Forever yours,

You bite your lip as you contemplate your reply to Bucky. Is it too much? Too honest? Maybe you should take the ‘Forever’ out? Maybe you shouldn’t be so cheeky, maybe you should actually sign your name? But then you reread his letter, and like it has the first 20 times you’ve read it, your heart skips a beat at the greeting.

Before you can second guess yourself any more than you already have, you fold the letter, stuff it in the envelope, and seal it. It goes out with the morning mail.

The letters come twice a week, at least. Bucky tells you about his training – he did just fine in basic, and now he’s excelling in his advanced individual training; it’s hard, but his love of boxing gave him a significant physical advantage over most of the other men he was training with. That makes you proud, but your favorite parts of his letters are when he opens up his heart to you. He tells you about Stevie, and about Sarah. Sometimes you laugh out loud, sometimes you cry for him. He tells you about his fears – things aren’t going well overseas, and one of his biggest worries is that he’ll let his unit down. Eight weeks in, he tells you about his mom and dad. He shares how he felt when they died, how hard it was to move forward, and how scary it was. But then his words gain a hopeful note when he repeats, once again, how he found another family in the Rogers’, and now in you.

Of course, he tells you about the moon. Every time he learns something new or hears something about the progress in getting to the moon, he writes it down and sends it to you. You can practically hear the enthusiasm in his voice when you read the words, and that’s why you read them over and over again, and also why you’ve started collecting newspaper clippings on the subject. You send a few in your letters to him, but you save most of them so you can put them in a photo album and give them to him when he returns.

You eagerly respond to every letter, usually on the day you receive them. The words you write tell him how proud you are of his accomplishments and how much you miss him. He won’t let his unit down – you know this deep down in your bones, and you tell him so. Every Sunday you walk across town to the cemetery holding Stevie’s and Sarah’s graves and spend an hour or so reading his letters to them. You were worried when you told him this that he would think you were silly or even crazy, but when you received his reply it was obvious that you had nothing to worry about.

June 18, 1967

Hello Beauti my beautiful girl,

I’m about to start my last two weeks of AIT, so this might be the last letter you receive from me until after I get overseas. Our superiors are getting more and more strict – they’re doing their best to prepare us. I’ll still think of you every day, even if I can’t write. You’re always on my mind, even when you’re not supposed to be.

Thank you for visiting Stevie and Sarah for me. When I read your last letter and you said you were doing that, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. You are the sweetest girl I ever met and I thank God every day that he gave me the idea to get coffee while I waited for the bus. Stevie’s birthday is on the 4th of July – if you could just tell him I said hi and happy birthday on your next visit, I’d really like that. Who am I kidding, of course you will. Beautiful, you’re practically an angel.

I ship out for Vietnam the first week of July. I’m a little worried scared honestly I’m terrified that I’m not coming back, but I want you to know that I’m gonna do everything I can to come home to you. When I left it was for Stevie, and besides, I thought I didn’t have anything to stay for anyway. But then I met you. We have a deal, Beautiful, and I plan to honor that deal. Besides, I need to get this ribbon back to you – I keep it in my pocket but I can’t wait to see it in your pretty hair again. Just keep waiting for me, okay? I promise I’ll get to you as soon as I can.

I love you.

I hope it’s okay that I wrote that, but it’s true so I’m not sorry.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Bucky

Your hands shake when you read, reread, and read the letter again.

“Honey? You planning on taking these plates to that table over there or are they gonna walk themselves?” Considering the amount of exasperation in his voice, Tim has obviously been trying to get your attention for a while.

“What? Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll bring them right over!” Pocketing the letter before picking up the two breakfast platters, the syrup selection, and the extra butter they had requested, you serve the table that has been so patiently waiting. After making sure they have everything they need, you practically run back to the kitchen. “Esmeralda, is it okay if I take my 15 now? I have a letter I’d like to write before the postman gets here.”

She flashes a knowing smile. “Better get writing, he’ll be here shortly.”

“Thank you!” you yell over your shoulder as you pick up your book bag and head out the back door. Taking a seat at the picnic table next to where the employees park, you whip out your notebook.

June 24, 1967

My dearest Bucky,

Of course it Bucky I love you, too! And I am so proud of you! There’s so much more I want to say, but I want this letter to get to you before you ship out so I’ll save it for my next letter when I have more time.

Bucky Barnes, you better believe I’m waiting for you. I’m never gonna hold the hand of another guy. I think You’re it for me.

Love,

***

Summer 1967

You still write a few times a week, but his letters start coming few and far between. It isn’t because he’s changed his mind about you – you know better than to allow your darkest doubts to even whisper that – it’s because he’s stationed at the front line. You’ve seen the news, and your heart jumps into your throat every time you hear of casualties from your state. There’s more than you’d like to acknowledge, and so you pray every night for his safety. He might be halfway across the world from you, but Bucky is never too far from your thoughts.

***

August 8, 1967

Hello my sweet, beautiful girl,

God, I miss you so much. Thank you for the cookies and the picture – the guys are so jealous, they say my girl sure is pretty and they can’t believe how well you bake. And THANK YOU for the newspaper clipping about the moon launch progress!! I’m telling you, it’s going to happen soon!

Beautiful, I want you to know that I think about you all the time. In fact, thoughts of you are what get me through this daily hell. When it’s getting kinda rough over here, I think of that day sitting down at the pier and I close my eyes, and see your pretty smile. And then, for a while, everything is better. And now I have your picture, so can I have you over my heart (in my pocket).

Don’t worry, but I won’t be able to write for awhile.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Bucky

***

September 1967

School is back in session, and you’re grateful for the distraction. You haven’t heard from Bucky in over a month and despite the assurances in his last letter, you’re worried. You read and reread his letters to you; you even bring them with you to school, tucking them into a pocket of your backpack so you can have them close.

Friday night is the Homecoming game, and you’re scheduled to play in the pep band during the football game; it’s a tradition that all Seniors play. You’re excited for it – it’s always so much fun and the team is really good this year. You dress in your school colors – an orange sweater with a black skirt and the orange knee socks that you’ve worn to every football game since you were a Freshman. It doesn’t match your outfit at all, but you tie your hair back in a ribbon that’s the same color as Bucky’s eyes, grab your piccolo, kiss your parents goodbye, and head out the door.

The energy in the stadium is electric – your team is playing your crosstown rival.

Bucky’s school.

It’s a bittersweet comfort; somehow it makes it feel like he’s here with you, but it also makes you miss him more. His absence is an ache deep in your bones.

For now, though, the game is about to start. The players are warmed up, the cheerleaders are ready, the Lord’s Prayer said and the Anthem sang, when the announcer unexpectedly breaks in. “Folks, would you bow your heads for a list of local Vietnam dead.”

Your heart in your throat, you have no choice but to listen.

“Zachary Martin Anderson.”

A few people in the band start whispering, and the boy in front of you hangs his head. You knew of Zach – he was a nice boy that graduated from your school last year.

“Jonathan Jeffery Andrews.”

Blinking back tears, you hear more murmurs. You knew Jon, too – he used to carry your momma’s groceries for her that time she broke her ankle.

“Daniel Ethan Ball.”

This isn’t a familiar name to you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s heavy on your heart anyway.

Feeling infinitely guilty, you begin whispering, “Please, please be done with the Bs…”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

No.

“What…what name did he just read?” No one answers you; the announcer isn’t done with the list yet.

It doesn’t matter. You know what you heard.

The blood rushes into your ears and it becomes hard to breath…there’s no air here…no air at all. A few minutes later the band begins playing and you don’t even recognize the song. What are you doing here? God, it hurts so bad it hurts and you can’t breathe. You throw down your piccolo with a strangled cry, hitting the boy next to you but you don’t care. You vaguely register hearing your band director yelling your name, but you ignore him - you probably couldn’t have coherently answered if you’d tried. Running out of the band section, you blindly push through the crowds of students without knowing where you’re going until you get there.

Finally alone under the stands, the sobs start coming hard and fast. The football game begins, and for the life of you, you can’t understand how they can play. How can they play a game when so many people died?

When Bucky died?

It occurs to you that this has happened so often that by now people have grown numb unless it’s one of their own.

Now one of yours.

He was supposed to be yours forever. He’d promised. You had a deal.

But he’s gone.

Gone.

You’ll never get to hold his hand.

You’ll never get to do anything the two of you had planned, had dreamed.

It breaks you, grinds you into the dirt you’ve crumbled down upon. Your screams blend in with the cheers. Your sobs blend in with the chants. Your heartbroken wails blend in with the music as the band plays.

When you cry into the quiet, a shiver runs up your spine. The temperature has dropped and it’s a little damp. Your feet are cold, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, not really. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that the game is over, and probably has been for a while; the stands are deserted. With your heart shattered into millions of sharp, tiny pieces, you finally pick yourself up off the ground and head home.

The kitchen light is on. You’re past curfew.

You can’t make yourself care.

When you step into the kitchen there’s no chastising, no lecturing about responsibility. Instead, your momma rises from the table to wrap you in her fluffy, pink robed arms as your daddy watches you with wet cheeks.

Wet cheeks? On your daddy? You’ve never seen him cry before.

This realization has a lot less impact than it should.

“Baby? Your, uh, the boy you told us about? Your soldier?” Her voice is calm and soothing, but you hear her concern in it. Over her shoulder you can see the Western Union slip clutched in your daddy’s hand.

“He, um –“

“I know, Momma.” The tears start anew, although you’d have sworn there weren’t any left. A second set of arms comes around you – your daddy. It’s like they’re trying to hold you together and although you appreciate their care – you do – it just isn’t enough.

The truth of the matter is that you’ll never be whole again.

Your momma, upon seeing how happy you were, how much you’d glow when you received a letter from Bucky, had been supportive of your choice. Your daddy, the decorated WWII veteran, was another story. This exact situation is the reason why. There are tears in his voice when he finally speaks, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted you to know what this feels like.”

They eventually lead you to sit at the kitchen table, and while your momma goes to make you a cup of tea, your daddy kneels in front of you and takes your hands into his.

“He must have really loved you, baby. You’re listed as his next of kin.”

The tears start again, harder this time.

He waits until the worst is over before continuing, “The telegram came a couple of hours ago. We went to the game to try to find you, but no one knew where you were. Your band director said you ran off during the announcement. Since we couldn’t find you, we just came home to wait.” His eyes get watery; your daddy’s proud, strong eyes have tears in them. “I hope it’s okay, I made some calls to get more details so you wouldn’t have to wait for the formal condolence letter. James, uh,” your daddy stops to rub his eyes, “James was a hell of a soldier. He died saving the life of the soldier he was patrolling with.”

A minuscule smile finds its way to your lips. “That sounds like something Bucky would do.”

Your daddy nods. “I should have known you’d pick a good one.” He swallows hard. “James’ – I mean Bucky’s unit was able to recover his body. They’ll send him back so he can be laid to rest here.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Your sore, swollen eyes turn to the slip of paper on the table. You don’t need to read it to know what it says, but you do anyway. Skimming past the “regret to inform you” and the “deepest sympathies,” you get to the line that matters.

“The soldier’s coming home.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #my work #travelling soldier (i cried)#i'm actually super relieved to get this out #i wish i could bleach the other version out of existance

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