bucky-anon

[bucky-anon]

not true. i can have a cup of coffee or 3 cups of tea.

(Very long food post under the cut. They'll get shorter after this)

There are advantages to being retired; staying at home and enjoying a beautiful fall day is one. Someone once told me I’d be bored retired, but I’m not. There’s plenty to do.

We spent the morning having a spirited discussion about what color we would repaint the spare room. Bucky leans towards this soft sage green, where I prefer a light yellow. After twenty minutes of circular arguments, it’s obvious we’re not going to agree, and we’re going to end up picking something else entirely. At times like this, we go to our respective corners and regroup.

If the kitchen is Bucky’s domain, the garden is mine. With a kiss on my cheek, he disappears into the kitchen, and I hear the fridge open as I head out into the garden to do some work before winter buries everything. There’s something satisfying about planning a garden, tending it, watching it bloom. I’m lost in my plans to expand the herb section when the puppies take off barking, and I look up to notice the sun is low on the horizon. I hear Bucky call out that it’s dinner time. I pull off my gloves and head inside to wash up.

The scent of cinnamon and yeast fills the house, and it’s a sure sign that Bucky’s been making cinnamon buns. I slip into the kitchen, wash my hands, and I’m surprised to see the table bare. “In the dining room,” I hear him call out. I’m surprised to find the formal dining room table set, the lights dimmed. We usually sit opposite each other, but he’s set the table with the two of us on one side, all spread out before us. When I quirk an eyebrow at him, he shrugs, “I’m in a mood.”

The newest batch of canapes sits on their trays. I pull out our chairs and sit a fraction of a second after Bucky. Glancing at the canapes, I laugh when I see the little toast rounds. Bucky slides two rounds onto my plate, then two onto his, and I pick one up and take a bite. There’s a burst of roasted garlic, tomatoes, basil, and parmesan cheese. I’d happily eat these, and I glance over to see Bucky’s already finished his. He shrugs, and I know what he’s thinking, “Yeah, nice, but not what you’re hoping for.” He smiles, takes a bite of his next one, “There’s a reason it’s a classic. I like the tomatoes.” Bucky gives it a 6/10, and I’ll agree with that.

Reaching over, he plucks the cover off another tray, and I see him perk up in his seat. He hands me the card, and I read ‘Honey Mustard Chicken Bacon Bites.’ There are three bites on my plate when I look down, and I notice Bucky’s chewing slowly, eat closed with a look on his face that can only be described as bliss before he blinks his eyes open and practically purrs, “These. These are the shit. Look at that crispy bacon. I’d want these every day of the fucking week. Get the recipe, Stevie.” Bucky gives these a 10/10. I like life, so I give them a ten as well.

Pulling the cover off the next tray, I hear Bucky inhale, and I’ll admit to being a bit in awe as well. “Yorkshire’s, I love love love them,” I hear Bucky whisper, and I nod. Bucky gives these an 8.5/10, and I think they’re a 9/10.

Pulling the cover off the last tray, I look at the little meatballs covered in sauce, and I’m not so sure. Bucky makes a face, grabs one and pops it into his mouth, and chews. “Oh! Now, these, these are unexpectedly good, Stevie,” he says as he takes one from the tray and holds it out of me to try. I accept the bite from the little wooden fork, and my eyes widen. They’re juicy, rich. The sauce is tangy, sweet, with just a hint of heat. “They don’t look like much, but the sauce is so good.” I agree. We give them a 9/10

I’ll admit being nervous about the first two dinner choices, I have no idea what to expect, and I want everything to be perfect. Everything we’ve been through, a love we could never express publicly until now. I need this day to be perfect. Just one perfect day for my love, that would make me happy. He sets the first dinner in front of me, and I admit I deflate a bit. It’s so. “Meh,” I hear Bucky mutter, “looks kinda bland.” The card says that ‘Turkey and Spinach Manicotti.’ If it were for anything other than our wedding dinner, I’d say okay, but it’s nothing special. 5/10

The lid comes off the last plate, and I stare at the chicken. I don’t know how to describe the smell of the chicken, and it makes my mouth water thinking about it. I grab the card. As I read, Bucky cuts into the chicken, stuffs a piece into his mouth, and makes a sound only I ever hear. I turn and stare at him as he chews, and I swear no one loves food as much as he does. “MY GOD,” he moans, “I’d give up sex for the rest of my life if I could eat that every day. Look at it, Stevie, how juicy it is. It’s cooked to perfection, and the flavor?” He moans loudly, “I think my taste buds are having an orgasm.” I put my fork down and watch him eat until he looks at me in horror and feeds me a few pieces, and I have to agree that the dish is delicious. The recipe card says that this is Roasted pepper, pancetta, and asiago stuffed chicken. Bucky says he gives it a 78463/10 (no, I have no idea where he comes up with the numbers). I’ll give it a solid 10.

@bucky-anon

(If you want the recipes for these things, they'd on Steve's interest page. https://www.pinterest.ca/captainsteverogers1990/_saved/ )

[bucky-anon]

upon reflection i have decided i wouldn’t give up sex… but i’d give up a lot of other things. my numbers just come to my head. it was a clear 78436/10 and if anyone disagrees then they’re wrong.

(Very long food post under the cut. They'll get shorter after this)

There are advantages to being retired; staying at home and enjoying a beautiful fall day is one. Someone once told me I’d be bored retired, but I’m not. There’s plenty to do.

We spent the morning having a spirited discussion about what color we would repaint the spare room. Bucky leans towards this soft sage green, where I prefer a light yellow. After twenty minutes of circular arguments, it’s obvious we’re not going to agree, and we’re going to end up picking something else entirely. At times like this, we go to our respective corners and regroup.

If the kitchen is Bucky’s domain, the garden is mine. With a kiss on my cheek, he disappears into the kitchen, and I hear the fridge open as I head out into the garden to do some work before winter buries everything. There’s something satisfying about planning a garden, tending it, watching it bloom. I’m lost in my plans to expand the herb section when the puppies take off barking, and I look up to notice the sun is low on the horizon. I hear Bucky call out that it’s dinner time. I pull off my gloves and head inside to wash up.

The scent of cinnamon and yeast fills the house, and it’s a sure sign that Bucky’s been making cinnamon buns. I slip into the kitchen, wash my hands, and I’m surprised to see the table bare. “In the dining room,” I hear him call out. I’m surprised to find the formal dining room table set, the lights dimmed. We usually sit opposite each other, but he’s set the table with the two of us on one side, all spread out before us. When I quirk an eyebrow at him, he shrugs, “I’m in a mood.”

The newest batch of canapes sits on their trays. I pull out our chairs and sit a fraction of a second after Bucky. Glancing at the canapes, I laugh when I see the little toast rounds. Bucky slides two rounds onto my plate, then two onto his, and I pick one up and take a bite. There’s a burst of roasted garlic, tomatoes, basil, and parmesan cheese. I’d happily eat these, and I glance over to see Bucky’s already finished his. He shrugs, and I know what he’s thinking, “Yeah, nice, but not what you’re hoping for.” He smiles, takes a bite of his next one, “There’s a reason it’s a classic. I like the tomatoes.” Bucky gives it a 6/10, and I’ll agree with that.

Reaching over, he plucks the cover off another tray, and I see him perk up in his seat. He hands me the card, and I read ‘Honey Mustard Chicken Bacon Bites.’ There are three bites on my plate when I look down, and I notice Bucky’s chewing slowly, eat closed with a look on his face that can only be described as bliss before he blinks his eyes open and practically purrs, “These. These are the shit. Look at that crispy bacon. I’d want these every day of the fucking week. Get the recipe, Stevie.” Bucky gives these a 10/10. I like life, so I give them a ten as well.

Pulling the cover off the next tray, I hear Bucky inhale, and I’ll admit to being a bit in awe as well. “Yorkshire’s, I love love love them,” I hear Bucky whisper, and I nod. Bucky gives these an 8.5/10, and I think they’re a 9/10.

Pulling the cover off the last tray, I look at the little meatballs covered in sauce, and I’m not so sure. Bucky makes a face, grabs one and pops it into his mouth, and chews. “Oh! Now, these, these are unexpectedly good, Stevie,” he says as he takes one from the tray and holds it out of me to try. I accept the bite from the little wooden fork, and my eyes widen. They’re juicy, rich. The sauce is tangy, sweet, with just a hint of heat. “They don’t look like much, but the sauce is so good.” I agree. We give them a 9/10

I’ll admit being nervous about the first two dinner choices, I have no idea what to expect, and I want everything to be perfect. Everything we’ve been through, a love we could never express publicly until now. I need this day to be perfect. Just one perfect day for my love, that would make me happy. He sets the first dinner in front of me, and I admit I deflate a bit. It’s so. “Meh,” I hear Bucky mutter, “looks kinda bland.” The card says that ‘Turkey and Spinach Manicotti.’ If it were for anything other than our wedding dinner, I’d say okay, but it’s nothing special. 5/10

The lid comes off the last plate, and I stare at the chicken. I don’t know how to describe the smell of the chicken, and it makes my mouth water thinking about it. I grab the card. As I read, Bucky cuts into the chicken, stuffs a piece into his mouth, and makes a sound only I ever hear. I turn and stare at him as he chews, and I swear no one loves food as much as he does. “MY GOD,” he moans, “I’d give up sex for the rest of my life if I could eat that every day. Look at it, Stevie, how juicy it is. It’s cooked to perfection, and the flavor?” He moans loudly, “I think my taste buds are having an orgasm.” I put my fork down and watch him eat until he looks at me in horror and feeds me a few pieces, and I have to agree that the dish is delicious. The recipe card says that this is Roasted pepper, pancetta, and asiago stuffed chicken. Bucky says he gives it a 78463/10 (no, I have no idea where he comes up with the numbers). I’ll give it a solid 10.

@bucky-anon

(If you want the recipes for these things, they'd on Steve's interest page. https://www.pinterest.ca/captainsteverogers1990/_saved/ )

[bucky-anon]

now, i steal your clothes cause they’re warm. and small like you. that’s it. you only get chewed out when you deserve it! … most of the time.

last time i checked they were our pets but if you wanna make me a single mom then i guess it has to be like that.

i love you.

small fact about me,

i love journaling. sat here in bed with the love of my life, journal in my lap, it’s the only true peace i get, with Steven running riot in the house and all. a few things are changing and i need to cope. sitting here with the love of my life, i’m supposed to be writing about the stupid colour swatches he’s painting in the guest room but i can only write about the good in him.

How no matter what he rubs my back when i’m ill, he still holds doors open for me, how he whispers in my ear how much he loves me every night. i can only write about how much he shows he loves me. While he can’t cook for shit, and has a questionable taste in clothes, he has given me the greatest gift of all time. He has loved me through wars, he has chosen me time and time again and he looks at me like he adores me every single day. god, he even loves me after i continually call him “Steven” just because i know he hates it.

b he stirs in his sleep and his arms wrap around me, no matter how annoyed i try to be i can’t help but simply run my hands through his hair and tell him how much i love him. i know o don’t show much of my sappy side, i don’t even show him some stones and maybe i’m not as big of a romantic as he is, but moments like this make me feel like i should do more for my guy. i am gonna do more for him. for the love of my life. i love you @ask-captain-steve

[bucky-anon]

small fact about me,

i love journaling. sat here in bed with the love of my life, journal in my lap, it’s the only true peace i get, with Steven running riot in the house and all. a few things are changing and i need to cope. sitting here with the love of my life, i’m supposed to be writing about the stupid colour swatches he’s painting in the guest room but i can only write about the good in him.

How no matter what he rubs my back when i’m ill, he still holds doors open for me, how he whispers in my ear how much he loves me every night. i can only write about how much he shows he loves me. While he can’t cook for shit, and has a questionable taste in clothes, he has given me the greatest gift of all time. He has loved me through wars, he has chosen me time and time again and he looks at me like he adores me every single day. god, he even loves me after i continually call him “Steven” just because i know he hates it.

b he stirs in his sleep and his arms wrap around me, no matter how annoyed i try to be i can’t help but simply run my hands through his hair and tell him how much i love him. i know o don’t show much of my sappy side, i don’t even show him some stones and maybe i’m not as big of a romantic as he is, but moments like this make me feel like i should do more for my guy. i am gonna do more for him. for the love of my life. i love you @ask-captain-steve

[bucky-anon]

Important shit from mod:

tw- talks of eating disorders.

do not under any circumstances what so ever send me anything eating disorder related. i understand your struggle which is why i’m asking you to not discuss it with me but instead they speak to a professional. do not trauma dump in my dms, you will get blocked instantly. i’m sick of saying this but funnily enough i am not Bucky and i am my own person who deals with my own issues. i do not wish to also deal with yours.

[bucky-anon]

at least there won’t be any brie on the menu…

sorry, sorry.

what i mean is, i’m sorry i made him cry… and i’m sorry he tried to give me food poisoning by feeding me slimy, shitty, devils cheese (brie).

(VERY long post about canapes. Below the cut)

With the wedding date rapidly approaching, I asked Anne if it would be possible to get all the appetizers at once so we could move on to the one detail I knew Bucky would obsess over - dinner. Always accommodating, Anne promised to send us the canapé’s she’d chosen the next day. I was taping paint swatches to the wall of the guest bedroom across from ours when I heard the doorbell ring around lunch time. Bucky has plates on the table by the time I make my way downstairs and he sets a series of long flat boxes on the table.

Bucky opens the first box, his nose scrunches up as he looks in and pulls out a plate of little bread rounds on the table. Our gazes meet over the plate and I ask, “Is that sour cream?” Bucky picks one up and pops it in his mouth and chews. As I pop one into my mouth, he asks, “It’s sticky. How is this sticky?” I’m not loving the competing flavours of sour cream, salmon, capers and radish, nevermind the texture of the rye disk it sits on. Bucky gives it a 2/10. I agree.

Quickly disposing of the first box, I open the second box and my heart sinks. These delicate pastry cups filled with some sort of salad fill the box and I take out out as Bucky returns to the table. “Thai Peanut Salad Cups”

I take a bite and I’m surprised. The vegetables are crisp and they’re covered in a flavourful sweet tangy zesty peanut sauce. “I love peanuts! These are good!” Bucky gave them a 7/10, I’m giving them an 7.5.

The next appetizer is a little piece of sausage mix in puff pastry. “What’s with the leaf?” I hear Bucky mutter and I give the packet a delicate sniff. “Sage, Buck, I think these have sage in them.”

Biting into them, they’re the right combination of savoury, salty earthy and I give Bucky a nod, I like these. Bucky gives these an 8.5/10, I give them an 8.

Opening the next box, I set them on the table and I hear Bucky mutter, “What the fuck is that smell?” A dozen mini-quiche sit in the box and I look in and reply, “Blue cheese?” There’s a pause and I hear him grumble, “That’s disgusting, I’d rather eat carpet than that” as he gags. I close the box and put them away in the kitchen with ‘no’ written on the card. Bucky gives them a minus -1000/10 to illustrate his point.

Bucky opens the next box as if it’s holding some sort of bioweapon and I watch as his eyebrows shoot up. He pulls out this plate full of skewers and sets it on the table. Neat little cubes of meat in some sort of sauce with what looks like a paper thin slice of cucumber.

Bucky pops one in his mouth and lets out a low moan that borders on obscene. “Oh my god,” he says as he stuffs another into his mouth, “I need these in my life. And that sauce. Steve, get the recipe.” Thai Pork Belly skewers with caramel sauce are definitely a hit. Bucky gives this a 9/10 and I won’t disagree.

The following canape was a hit as well, the title was a deceptively boring ‘Filet Mignon Crisps’. The little toast round was crisp on the bottom with the rich taste of garlic butter and the faintest hint of something peppery. Slivers of juicy rich seasoned filet mignon topped with caramelized onions and chives sat on top. I glance over at Bucky who is stuffing another into his mouth, his eyes closed and his expression blank. “Like them?” I ask and he gives me his patented ‘Steve is an idiot’ look. “Filet is always a winner but mini on toast, that makes it better. I love these, the bread is amazing.” I go to take another and he slaps my knuckles with the flat of a knife. “No, we save those for a snack tonight.” Bucky gives these a 10, I’ll give them a 9.5 since I only got to try one.

When the last box opens, his face lights up as he sees his one request – a canape that has plum on it. They look fantastic, we each take one and I’m surprised when I see him stand up, rush to the kitchen and spit the mouthful into the garbage. I take a nibble and pause, it’s not awful but it’s not my favorite. “That,” I hear from the kitchen, “is a crying fucking shame because it’s so pretty but I can’t stand it. Those poor plums and what the hell, Stevie? Brie? Brie was made by the devil. Why is the texture like that? Ew, ew!” I set my piece down because now I can’t bring myself to eat it. Bucky gives this a -12779, don’t ask, I have no idea. I give it a 2 because it was very chewy.

When Anne and the chef stop by, the chef is crushed over the verdict and I apologize profusely. We should have a few more canapes tomorrow since we don’t have enough to round out a course. When they leave, I say to him, “Love, I asked you for a list of ingredients to avoid. I never expected to see a grown man cry over comment cards.” Bucky snorts as he heads into the kitchen to get the box of sage sausage bites, stopping to pick up a jar of pickles on the way.

@bucky-anon

[bucky-anon]

it is like that! i have the same hatred towards the thought of steven putting his cream anywhere but near me. in saying that, it’s his. enjoy the cream, best friend.

Have I done something upsetting best friend Bucky? Does ice cream make you angry?!

no hole, not at all. you’re my bestest friend. Steven is just very liberal with his cream these days. do holes get jealous? humans do.

[bucky-anon]

don’t. you’re gonna give my best friend hole bucketloads of cream apparently. don’t let me stop you.

Have I done something upsetting best friend Bucky? Does ice cream make you angry?!

no hole, not at all. you’re my bestest friend. Steven is just very liberal with his cream these days. do holes get jealous? humans do.

[bucky-anon]

Have I done something upsetting best friend Bucky? Does ice cream make you angry?!

no hole, not at all. you’re my bestest friend. Steven is just very liberal with his cream these days. do holes get jealous? humans do.

[bucky-anon]

yeah well, you can imagine. be happy you’ll be filling hole here cause it’s the only thing you’ll be filling for a long time.

i don’t want your ice cream, i bet you’d pick pistachio anyway.

Hello Steve friend! Just thought I'd creep by and see if you ever found the exact amount of jelly beans to stuff my hole? *clicks pen* for science of course!

Actually, I've been giving this a lot of thought and I have a question for you. Has anyone thought to suggest vanilla ice-cream as something that would fill your hole?

[bucky-anon]

what so you’re just handing out loads of cream these days? i see how it is Steven.

Hello Steve friend! Just thought I'd creep by and see if you ever found the exact amount of jelly beans to stuff my hole? *clicks pen* for science of course!

Actually, I've been giving this a lot of thought and I have a question for you. Has anyone thought to suggest vanilla ice-cream as something that would fill your hole?

[bucky-anon]

Steve… you’ve just told everyone that apparently cake has made me moan more than you have.

For the record, it’s untrue. One word, Italy.

Back to cake, this… now this was real fuckin’ good. I love raspberries.

(long cake post, under the cut)

This morning I woke earlier than normal, I’m not quite sure why. Probably from all the excess sugar I ate last night, those brownies were possibly the best I’ve had excluding the ones Bucky makes.

If I’m honest, I’m getting more nervous as each day passes and the wedding gets closer. I know it’s silly, the man is already my husband. You could make an argument that this wedding is frivolous but it’s really not. The differences between a civil partnership and a legal marriage seem to be minor but there are some things that are a big deal.

I’m retired but the reality is if something major happens, I’m going to answer the call. I’m not going to be able to sit by and watch. Neither is Bucky. We’re tough but we’re not indestructible, if I go down in a fight, I want to do everything I can to make sure Bucky is taken care of. Marriage means that everything I have, everything that matters to me goes to the person who matters most. The whole process is stressful.

Don’t for a moment think I’m having second thoughts about this wedding. I’m not, I’m just anxious. I want it to be perfect for him and that makes for restless nights. Which is why I find myself in the garden room at four in the morning looking up at the stars. Can’t remember whose idea it was, but we have a small glass building in the middle of our garden. It’s rustic, nothing fancy but it’s perfect for us. We have a bed in it for when we’re restless and want to sleep beneath the stars, a table and chairs for when we want to have dinner outside and enjoy the evening. It’s as close to perfect. I rest my eyes for a few minutes and before I know it, I feel Bucky’s fingers stroke over my cheek and he’s telling me breakfast is ready.

It’s during our breakfast of waffles and bacon when the latest of the cake samples arrives and I snatch up the card while Bucky goes off in search for cake plates. As I read the card, I hear Bucky’s sudden intake of breath and the cake before us isn’t like any of the others we’ve had so far.

The card reads Deconstructed Chocolate and Raspberry Cake and I don’t know what to think because this is not what I think of when I think wedding cake.

The card describes the cake as a rich brownie-like layer brushed with a raspberry jam and Chambord glaze and topped with dots of rich dark chocolate ganache and fresh raspberries.

Bucky has set a plate in front of me while I read and my reading is interrupted when he utters what could be the most pornographic moan I’ve ever heard. I glance over at him and he’s sitting there, fork in his mouth, eyes closed, and he looks like a cat with cream. Startled, I take a bite and I suspect I likely let out a moan not unlike his.

This cake is the perfect balance of rich chocolate and bright raspberry and I think I’m in love. Well, with something other than Bucky. Unlike the other cakes, we ate it all in complete silence. Bucky gives this cake a 9.5 with the .5 off because it doesn’t look like a wedding cake and I agree. This cake is going to be almost impossible to beat.

@bucky-anon

[bucky-anon]

i’m your husband and you should be happy that i steal your brownies,

i’m gonna ignore the second part cause you’re trying to make me go soft on you

(The cake posts are getting long so it's below the cut)

Veteran’s Day. Veteran’s Day is always difficult. I’m sure it is very every vet, but for Bucky and me, it’s a nightmare. It’s a reminder not just of the friends we lost in the war but of everything we lost. Everyone we lost. Our family, our friends, all of it gone. It doesn’t help that people want us to participate in ceremonies, in the little rituals that have popped up. For them, it’s a day of red, white, and blue, for thanking people for their service. Neither of us can deal with that, so we opted to stay in bed instead.

I will admit to swearing profusely when the doorbell rang. I expected to find Sam standing there to coax Bucky and I to venture out. Instead, one of the bakers waited for me at the door. A bright smile on her face, she looked at me for a moment before handing me a cake box and a brown paper bag. With a quiet, “Thank you, Captain Rogers, have a good day” she left and I went back into the house.

When I set the box and the bag on the counter, Bucky was already in the kitchen making us a pot of his favorite breakfast tea. He turns, takes on look at me, and before I can say anything, he’s wrapped his arms around me. After a few minutes, we cut ourselves a piece of cake, grab a cup of tea and sit down at the table.

Unlike Bucky, who only asked that the cake be vanilla, I asked that the cake be chocolate and with no citrus. Honestly, I don’t mind it. Bucky’s not a fan. Today’s cake is Chocolate Caramel.

The cake is a rich chocolate cake with a layer of soft caramel and a separate layer of creamy caramel buttercream. The cake is light, the caramel is soft but not too gooey and the buttercream is smooth and melts in your mouth. It’s a lovely light cake, but I was a bit disappointed in it and then Bucky echoes my thoughts, “Basic cake but good. Not up to being one of our cakes though, Stevie.” And he’s right. I’d happily eat it for dessert and enjoy it but I want my cake to stand out. Bucky gave the cake a 6.5/10 but I’m giving it a 6.

Setting the remainder of the cake in the fridge for dinner, I open the brown bag and smile. Reaching into the bag, I pull out one of the treats, tear it in half and hold it up for Bucky to try. He takes the bite from my fingers, chews and his eyes widen as the flavour of my favorite brownies hit his tongue. He’s snatched up the bag and is running with them, up the stairs and into our room before I can blink. I set off after him. Perhaps today won’t be so bad after all.

@bucky-anon

[bucky-anon]

it’s bad for me. i had you chasing after me, snatching at my ankles over some brownies.

you need to learn to share, Steven.

(The cake posts are getting long so it's below the cut)

Veteran’s Day. Veteran’s Day is always difficult. I’m sure it is very every vet, but for Bucky and me, it’s a nightmare. It’s a reminder not just of the friends we lost in the war but of everything we lost. Everyone we lost. Our family, our friends, all of it gone. It doesn’t help that people want us to participate in ceremonies, in the little rituals that have popped up. For them, it’s a day of red, white, and blue, for thanking people for their service. Neither of us can deal with that, so we opted to stay in bed instead.

I will admit to swearing profusely when the doorbell rang. I expected to find Sam standing there to coax Bucky and I to venture out. Instead, one of the bakers waited for me at the door. A bright smile on her face, she looked at me for a moment before handing me a cake box and a brown paper bag. With a quiet, “Thank you, Captain Rogers, have a good day” she left and I went back into the house.

When I set the box and the bag on the counter, Bucky was already in the kitchen making us a pot of his favorite breakfast tea. He turns, takes on look at me, and before I can say anything, he’s wrapped his arms around me. After a few minutes, we cut ourselves a piece of cake, grab a cup of tea and sit down at the table.

Unlike Bucky, who only asked that the cake be vanilla, I asked that the cake be chocolate and with no citrus. Honestly, I don’t mind it. Bucky’s not a fan. Today’s cake is Chocolate Caramel.

The cake is a rich chocolate cake with a layer of soft caramel and a separate layer of creamy caramel buttercream. The cake is light, the caramel is soft but not too gooey and the buttercream is smooth and melts in your mouth. It’s a lovely light cake, but I was a bit disappointed in it and then Bucky echoes my thoughts, “Basic cake but good. Not up to being one of our cakes though, Stevie.” And he’s right. I’d happily eat it for dessert and enjoy it but I want my cake to stand out. Bucky gave the cake a 6.5/10 but I’m giving it a 6.

Setting the remainder of the cake in the fridge for dinner, I open the brown bag and smile. Reaching into the bag, I pull out one of the treats, tear it in half and hold it up for Bucky to try. He takes the bite from my fingers, chews and his eyes widen as the flavour of my favorite brownies hit his tongue. He’s snatched up the bag and is running with them, up the stairs and into our room before I can blink. I set off after him. Perhaps today won’t be so bad after all.

@bucky-anon

[bucky-anon]

Hi friend! I am back and full of questions, but first *slides you a blanket and some tea* it seems you are having a hard day. I have filled my hole with a hammock and some blankets if you would like to spend some time there. It is safe.

black hole! you have been thoroughly missed.

is this an invite to your hole? i’d greatly appreciate an invite to your hole… the blankets and… hammock. never mind, i’ll come. can holes give hugs?

[bucky-anon]

Nat Mod Chat Time

If you don't support the Alphabet community and the multiple combinations of pairings that occur within that community, go the fuck away.

And while I'm at it, stop sending hate saying that a fictional character isn't a certain sexual orientation. They're fake. We can do whatever the fuck we want with our characters and their story on our blogs.

Stop being so pressed about fiction, your psychosis is showing.

[bucky-anon]

you guys are actually insane

it makes me laugh but like, get help. actual genuine help. get a job, go to therapy, i don’t care as long at you get the fuck away from me