#and all the well-wishes and personal notes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pome-seed · 2 days ago

Text

დ1940s Loverდ

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x 1940s!Reader

Summary: She never thought a trip to the laundromat would end in her meeting the love of her life. She never thought a trip to the laundromat would change her life forever.

A love with Bucky through the years, starting in the 30s, flowing through a raging war and a looming goodbye.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Sexual Content. Angst. Sweet 1940s Bucky. Mention of war. Mention of blood and wounds and guns. 18+ MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys! I've had this one in my closet for a while. I really love this one and hope you guys do to. There's a part 2 if you guys end up wanting it. Just let me know. But I hope you guys love this one, because I really really do! (also yes I mention a song from the 60s in this but pretend it was made 30 years before shhhhh) Comment and be kind!

She didn’t love doing laundry, but she loved the smell of fresh clothes. She also loved inventive machinery. She was young and curious, still living with her parents. They were a small family that generated a large mess. Her mother was a teacher, her father a soldier. There wasn’t much time for them all to gather at home together. So household duties usually fell on her.

So she found herself in a brand new self operating laundromat.

The first time she visited the place, it was bustling with life. People from all around her neighborhood were marveling at the new inventive idea. She was thankful for it, too. Back home they didn’t have the money for a washing machine, and usually washed everything by hand.

She spent two days a week in the quiet little building, washing her family's clothes and linens. She’d begun to enjoy the peace to herself.

For the first time in a while, she was the only person in the laundromat. She sat against a small bench in the center of the room, a book folded in her lap as she listened to the machines clink.

The front door jingled, signalling another patron. She didn’t feel the need to look, content with keeping to herself. But then she heard the sound of two duffle bags hit the floor, and a very concerned sigh. She looked up to see a rather handsome looking young man staring at the machines in confusion.

She bit back a smile as she watched him shuffle up to the orange machine, digging through his pockets for change. He glanced at the coins, then at the washer.

“Need a hand?” She felt compelled to help him. She wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but he just looked so stupidly helpless.

He looked surprised, embarrassment making him smile shyly. “That obvious?”

She closed her book and set it aside. “Just a bit.”

“I’ve just-” he chuckled, shrugging. “Never used one of these before.”

“Not many people have, they’re quite the feat.” She smiled, approaching him. “But they’re not that bad, trust me.” She glanced back at his two large bags. “You might be here a while, though.”

“I wish I would have brought a book. Do they have a radio?” He tilted his head at her, bright blue eyes curious.

She shook her head, “not yet.”

He sighed, clicking his tongue. “Well I better get started then. Take mercy on me?” He blinked at her through dark lashes and a soft smile.

She lifted a brow at him. “You might need a notebook for future use, mr…”

“Barnes, James Barnes,” he held his hand out, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “But people call me Bucky.”

She took his hand, returning his quick shake. “Bucky? Is that a nickname?”

He nodded. “‘M middle name is Buchannon. My buddy gave me the name Bucky when we were kids.” He stuck his hand back in his pocket. “And what might your name be, doll?”

Her stomach fluttered at the name. “Y/n,” she introduced herself. “No nickname.”

“Y/n,” the name rolled off his tongue like a purr. She suddenly felt nervous, speaking to such a handsome man. “Pretty name. So, Y/n, help me out here?”

She nodded, laughing at the kicked puppy look he had on his face. “Alright, alright.”

So she spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through the mechanics of the machines. She went a bit off topic as she rambled about the fantastical changes between old models and new. She had a knack for mechanics.

She caught herself rambling once she realized he had his chin in his hand, his eyes fixed on her, as they sat together. “Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” She chuckled.

He shook his head, smiling fondly. “No, no, I’m enjoying it. The technicalities behind such mundane things never really cross my mind. It’s nice to hear about how it all works. How do you know all this stuff?”

“Ah- my father, he’s a pilot. He used to build these little models when I was just a girl. He sometimes let me help him because I had smaller hands.” She wiggled her fingers at him.

He chuckled, looking at her hands. “So do you still build things? Machines like these?”

She stared at him like he had two heads. “Of course not,” she could almost laugh. “I’m a woman, can’t you tell?”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, so what? I’ve never understood all that.” He waved a hand. “Smaller hands are great for precise work. And I don't mean knitting.”

“Good thing I can’t knit.”

“Perfect. But can you build machines still? Have you tried since you were just a girl?” He tilted his head at her.

She felt a bit flustered under the weight of the conversation. She’d just met him, she shouldn’t be speaking of such political matters with him. But she felt a flame flicker in her stomach under his insistence. “I haven’t tried in a long time. You don’t usually just have spare parts lying around.”

“Go to a junkyard, I knew boys back in school who scavenged for days for a bike.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh yes, I’ll just go dig through trash for a few hours. The perfect plan.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a great strategist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? From who?”

“My best pal, the one digging through the trash for a bike.” He grinned, his shoulders shaking with a suppressed laughter.

She snickered, shaking her head. “Sounds like a very honest and cooperative friendship.”

“Oh, the best around. Perfectly even. I have the ideas, he has the heart.”

“How sweet. I can only imagine the trouble you two cause.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to.” He gave her a mischievous look.

“So what is it you two do in the time you’re not digging through trash and starting problems?”

“I work in the newspaper,” he calmed his laughter. “Print work. Have you ever seen a print machine?” He offered.

“No, but I’ve always wondered.” She hummed, leaning in in interest.

“Well, they’re just these giant hunks of metal covered in ink. I work with loading up the print machines and rolling on the ink to press into the papers. Nothin’ fancy, really. But I always get the fresh scoop of news before anyone else.” He grinned cheekily.

“Very nice, what’s your favorite column then? Do you favor the hot gossip?”

“Oh of course. Who cares about war and politicians, when I can know who’s been caught in a public affair.”

She gasped dramatically. “What do you know?” She inched closer.

“I’ll never tell,” he teased.

“Oh you can’t do that!”

“Oh yes I can, it's my job!”

She groaned, waving her hand at him. “I’ll get you to tell me.”

He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not secretly working for a rival reporter? This might all be a grand scheme to steal our research.” He looked around the room in dramatic suspicion.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes that's exactly what I’m doing here.”

“See, I knew it.”

The pair spent the next two hours in lively conversation and banter. By the time their clothes were nice and dry, she was teaching him how to properly fold his clothes. He enjoyed the gentle way she scolded him. She loved the cheeky way he always had a new joke to tell.

He exuded this comfortable confidence in himself, it was contagious. He was like a ball of light. He didn’t even notice the fond way she teased him, because all he could focus on was how enjoyable her presence was.

Each moment with her was sparkling with life and oozing comfortable chemistry.

By the time they had finished their laundry, he was doing all he could to stretch out the time with her. The sun was setting, casting the city in warm darkness. “Can I walk you home?” He asked, leaning against the machines.

She bit back her smile, glancing at his bags of laundry. “You want to carry all that through the city with me?”

He shook his head, then nodded at a car parked along the street. “I have somewhere to put it.”

She gaped at him, a shiver running down her spine. “You have a car?” She gasped. Nobody had a car- not normal people. The image she had been crafting of this sweet man was suddenly changing very quickly.

“It’s my family’s, we share it, of course.” He smiled at her shyly, suddenly looking a bit timid.

“Wow,” she huffed. “Why not just drive me home then, mister Barnes?” She asked, trying to hide her shock with a bit of cheek.

“Well because the night would end a lot sooner than I want it to.”

She hid her blush as she turned to look down the street. “Well go put your clothes away then, I’ll wait here.”

It was like the words found no end as they walked along. Bucky had taken up carrying her laundry for her, holding the basket under his arm as they walked. She was charmed by the gentlemanly act.

“I’m-I’m serious-” Bucky cackled, almost tripping on a lift in the sidewalk. “He- he was trying to stop us from breaking news about the lawsuit, so he broke into the newsroom, and Mike got into this big fight with him-” he paused, catching his breath. “And he trapped his head in the press!”

“Oh my god- did the ink…?”

“Oh, he went down town with the headline stained into his cheek.”

She snickered, shoulders bouncing with laughter. They had started going back and forth, sharing stories of their lives- and evidently, this was his favorite as of recent.

“Well, I don’t really have anything to beat that,” She sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I don’t get to go out and do much.”

“Why not?” He asked, composing himself.

She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I do love to go out, I love dancing and the theater and nature, I just love life. I just never get to go out much. My friend Betty and I used to go out together, but she has just been so busy recently, I haven’t had the chance.”

He nodded thoughtfully, chewing on his cheek in thought as they approached her front steps. “Would you like to go skating with me and my buddy this week?”

She paused, turning to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded, that cheeky smile twisting at her lips. “This friday, I’ll pick you up. You can bring your friend too.”

She couldn’t see it, but he was swallowing down a great deal of panic, awaiting her answer. She blinked at him in shock, then let out a delighted breath. “I’d love to, Bucky.”

And like that, she saw the man every week. She and her close friend would join him and his friend Steve for an event and dinner. He would pick her up from her home, greet her mother, then sweep her off for the night.

Unlike many people their age, they never crossed that boundary of intimate friendship- not for a long time, at least. They spent their time as equals, enjoying each other's friendship and sharing life experiences.

There was always something else there, something strong and warm and sweet, but they let it simmer and grow in quiet acknowledgment.

“Woah-!” She yelped as their seat was lifted off the ground.

“Hold on, doll.” Bucky snickered, guiding her hands to the ropes at their sides.

From above, she could see it all. Lights and laughter blended together with the smell of cheap food and sugar. Children shrieked in laughter as they chased each other between booths. Teenagers egged eachother on in the lines leading up to the newest attractions.

She’d never been to Coney Island before Bucky. She’d never had occasion- or funds- to go.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out at all the bright lights.

They sat on one of Bucky’s favorite rides. Steeplechase’s Parachute Ride. It was technically a hot air balloon with cords bolting it to the ground. But instead of a basket, there was a two person seater.

“Very,” Bucky smiled, looking at the way the breeze made her hair fluff up, whisping around her face.

She glanced back at him, one of her hands still clutching tightly at his bicep. “You ain’t smooth, you know?” She fought the smile tugging at her lips.

He pressed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “You hurt me, sugar.”

She snickered, looking back out over the expanse of the boardwalk and the gentle waves of the ocean. “I do apologize.”

He dropped his hand, holding the ropes. “Mhm, very sincere.” He sighed. “You like it?” he nodded at the fair. “I thought you would. I hoped you would.” He smiled softly, his ears tinged a light pink.

“You thought right. It’s pretty from up here. You know I’ve never been on a ferris wheel?” She stared over at the giant ride across the way from them.

He gaped at her. “You’re kiddin’, right?” She shook her head. “Then that’s where we’re goin’ next. I hope you ain’t afraid of heights like that.”

“We’ll just have to see.”

And they did.

Bucky dragged her from one attraction to another. The ferris wheel was her favorite. Bucky asked her if she’d ever thought about how machines like those ones worked- opening up the opportunity for her to get lost in her fantasies.

She of course went on, rocking their metal seat as she leaned forward to get a look at the center of the wheel. She told him about how engineers had to design all those rides, working the ins and outs for safety and functionality.

Bucky grinned from ear to ear as he listened to her, fascinated with her curious mind.

After the ferris wheel, he took her to get a funnel cake and another pound of sugar in cheap snacks. Once she felt sick from corn dogs and cotton candy, he decided they should take a cool down walk through the games.

Each booth was decorated in gaudy stuffed animals and small toy boxes. All of the games were rigged, they both knew, but it couldn’t take from their fun.

Bucky nearly lost his mind playing that forsaken bottleneck ring toss game. She had to drag him away before he blew another pocket of change just on the chance to win her a stupid bear.

“Come on, I wanna ride that coaster.” She snickered, taking him by the arm.

“The Cyclone? Oh sugar, I’ve got a story for you.” He trailed after her.

“If it involves you torturing poor Stevie and makin’ him throw up everywhere, I already know.” She knocked her shoulder into his.

“How do you know about that?” He smirked, slipping his hand down her lower back to guide her through the crowd.

“At the diner last week when you went to order our shakes, Stevie told me all about your last trip here.” She snickered. “Poor boy looked traumatized!”

“He had fun,” Bucky smiled, thinking back on the day he forced his friend to ride the rollercoaster until he threw up. He remembered patting his back until he was no longer green in the face.

“Oh I’m sure you thought so. I might have to come back here with Steve next time, show him some real fun.” She huffed.

“You pickin’ sides now?” He scoffed, manoeuvring them into the line.

“Maybe.” She smirked.

Bucky leaned down a little onto her level, his blue eyes sharp against the lowering sunset. “Now, I don’t like that. I found you first.”

“I ain’t no toy, Barnes.” She poked his chest gently.

He caught her hands in his. “Oh I know. But you’re gonna hurt my ego if you go spendin’ your time with my buddy instead of me.”

“Every man's ego needs a little hurtin’ every now and then.” She smiled, ignoring the soft blush in her cheeks.

He scoffed, pulling back. “I have a feelin’ you’re gonna be showin me plenty of that.”

“Oh don’t you know it.”

“Steve, over here!” She waved her arm dramatically in the air from where she sat on her blanket. The shorter man straightened when he saw her, a timid smile lighting up his face. Not far behind him, trailed an excited Bucky.

The sun was still warm on her skin, coloring the sky a pretty orange as it readied to set. Around her, couples and friends and families alike sat on blankets, chatting and simmering in excitement.

It was the end of summer, early august, when the music festival rolled into town. She was beyond excited, and so were the boys. They had all grown close over their shared love of music, so she decided they would all attend together.

“Better late than never,” she scolded softly as the pair approached.

Steve threw a look over his shoulder at his dark headed friend. “Ask him, he had to stop twenty times for the basket.” He said as he settled on the blanket.

Bucky set a wicker picnic basket down in front of her, before taking his seat beside her. “Hey, you say that now, but if we didn't bring food you’d be whinin’ the whole night.”

She slapped his arm for his sass, chuckling to herself. She peaked inside the basket to find a few cans of coke and some snacks. “Well I guess I can’t be too mad, thank you, Bucky,” she sent him a soft smile.

He hid his blush by looking up to find the band setting up. “I’m shocked they haven't started yet,” he muttered.

“This is the second band,” she huffed, squinting at the boys. “You missed the first one.”

“We’re sorry, I’ll make sure to give him hell for making you wait.” Steve offered.

She grinned, bumping her shoulder with the blond boys. “That’s why you're my favorite.” She snickered when Bucky grumbled. “Anyways, shush, they’re starting soon.”

So the trio sat together, setting out their snacks to enjoy the show together. When the music started, the woman felt herself relaxing. It was a beautiful picture, painted by the sunset and couples standing to dance. The man singing had a silky smooth deep voice, powerful in the way it carried through the park.

She took a sip of her soda, then climbed to her feet. She left her heels on the blanket, knowing they would just sink in the grass. “Come here, Stevie, let's dance.” She held her hands out, looking at him. The boy sunk into himself, shaking his head.

“You know I can’t-”

“Oh, but you can,” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him up. She glanced at Bucky over the boy's shoulder, who was snickering to himself.

She took Steve’s hands in hers and started hopping around on her feet. “Come on, just move,” she giggled, spinning around with him to the upbeat music.

Steve stumbled along, doing his best through the laughter bubbling in his chest. Bucky watched the pair, grinning as he watched his best friend having such a good time. He also couldn’t help but enjoy the moment to fondly watch the woman.

Since they’d all become friends she had taken to the lively feeling the two gave her. Every week, Bucky looked forward to seeing her. He especially loved moments like this, watching her spin and giggle. The way the sun caught the strands of hair that slipped from her loose curls.

She dragged Steve into a dramatic twirl as the music picked up, the pair of them almost toppling over. “Alright- alright,” Steve laughed, slowing to a stop. “I oughtta stop now before I hurt myself- or you.”

She sighed, letting him go to sit back down. She glanced over to Bucky, who continued to watch her. “What about you, mister Barnes? Can you dance?”

He scoffed, mock offended, as he stood. “Of course I can dance.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that,” she smirked, holding her hands out for him. She gasped when he tugged her close, leading them into a swing. She shrieked out a laugh as he took the lead, one hand on her hip, the other in hers, spinning them around.

Her bare feet slid across the grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. They pranced dramatically in the small patch of space beside their blanket.

“Never doubt me, doll,” he teased, twirling her.

She grinned, spinning and tripping into his chest. Bucky let them slow down for a moment. “You call this dancing?” She poked, her hands falling to his chest.

They’d never before been so close, but it felt so easy- like second nature. He let his hands fall to her hips, his ears tinged a soft pink. “What would you call it, hm?”

“A mess,” she teased.

Bucky scoffed, tilting his head back to laugh. “You think you’re slick, but you’re just trying to push my buttons.” She opened her mouth for a comeback, but yelped when he swiftly dipped her.

She gasped, tilted back far enough to fall without his steady arm. “Shocking me into silence doesn't give you the last word.” She tried to steady her breathing.

He pulled her back up, her hands steadying herself on his shoulders. He tucked a frizzy lock of loose hair behind her ear, a grin on his lips. “I think it does.”

The knock at her front door made her heart jump. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door. When she cracked it open, she was met with a beautifully groomed young man. He wore a dark blue suit, his hair combed back nicely, and a nice watch to match. He held a single red rose between his fingers.

“Evening,” she greeted, holding back her excited smile. “How can I help you?”

“Good Evening. I’m here to pick up a pretty young lady for a date.” He smiled, doing his best not to shamelessly rake his eyes over her.

“Well I’ll just have to check inside, I don’t know if I have one of those on hand.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself look over her pretty pink dress and short red heels. “I beg to differ.”

She finally let her laughter escape, letting her door swing open. “I’ll have to warn her, you’re quite bold.”

“I have a feeling she already knows.” He stepped closer. “For you,” he held out the rose to her. She grinned, taking the pretty flower in hand. She brought it to her nose to smell.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“It’s not as pretty as you, doll, but I do what I can.”

She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks as she stared at the rose. “You wait here, I’ll go put it somewhere safe.” She said as she hurried down the hall to place the rose in some water. She snagged her purse from the counter, then met him back at the door.

He held his hand out to her, a cheeky smile on his lips. She slipped her palm in his after locking the door. “So, where to tonight, handsome?”

He tilted his head back, looking dramatically in thought. “Well, I was hoping I could treat you to a movie. Maybe… the Phantom of the Opera?” He glanced at her sideways.

She gasped, squeezing his hand. “Oh I’ve been wanting to see that!” She said excitedly. “How did you know?”

“I have my secrets,” he teased, leading her down to the car. It was a shiny and new blue 1940s cruiser sedan. She felt fancy every time she sat inside it. He closed the car door for her once she was inside, then took his own seat.

“Your secrets are going to get you in trouble one day, mister Barnes.” She squinted at him, trying to hide her smile.

The car rumbled to life as they pulled onto the street. “You’re distracting the driver, young lady.”

“You act like such an old man,” she giggled.

“And you act like I’m some youngster,” he grinned, turning them down another street.

“Well in my eyes you haven't changed a bit,” she snickered at his offended expression.

“I’ve grown quite a bit in these years, you know.” He huffed.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

If he weren’t driving, he’d turn his head and glare at her softly.

“Tickets for two,” Bucky held up his fingers for the woman behind the glass to see. He slid the money across the small counter. She blushed at his side, holding his arm. She knew he had money, but seeing him always spend it on her so easily got her flustered.

He guided her to the concession stand where he bought them a small bucket of popcorn- mostly for her, he barely cared for it. She was buzzing with excitement as they entered the theater.

“You spoil me, you know?” She whispered as they took their seats.

“Oh I know,” he grinned, his blue eyes bright in the dark theater.

“A gentleman isn’t so cheeky about it, though,” she pinched his arm.

“But a gentleman does buy his favorite girl snacks. I have good and bad, don’t I?” He set the bucket of popcorn in her lap.

She was thankful for the darkness of the theater, so he couldn’t see her warm red cheeks. “I’m your favorite?”

“My only,” he whispered, as the music of the film began. He slid his hand into hers again, interlocking their fingers.

She bit back her smile, turning her attention to the screen.

After parking outside her apartment, Bucky tugged her away from the front door. At first she was confused, but he proposed they take a quick stroll.

She followed after him with a smile, holding him close by the arm. “It was a beautiful movie, don’t you think? I just loved the music.” She gushed.

“It was nice,” he hummed, looking up at the night sky. “Would you fall for it? A scarred, masked man?” He glanced at her.

“Mm, I wonder,” she pondered, spinning to stand in front of him. She held her hands up in front of his face. She squinted in thought, watching him snicker. “Maybe,” she surmised as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and lowered them. “Depends how mysterious he is.”

“Am I mysterious enough?”

“Oh, not nearly.”

He clicked his tongue, mock offended.

“And you? If I was all scarred, forced to wear a mask and hide away, would you still long for me?” She asked, stepping closer to him. His hands fell to her waist.

“I’d long for you no matter the cause.” He muttered, glancing at her lips.

She rested her palms on his chest. “Oh yeah? What if I had no hair?”

He traced his finger along her cheek, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d think no different.”

“What if I were blind?” She closed her eyes, biting back her smile.

“I’d get to observe you freely, without worrying you’d catch me.”

A laugh bubbled in her chest as she looked at him again. “That could sound ominous, if I didn’t know you.”

“Mysterious, even?” He grinned.

“Nope,” she smacked her red lips together. “Just ominous. Maybe you are the phantom, a voyeur, watching me from close and afar.” She whispered, leaning close.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d never know. I’m too good at keeping my secrets.”

“I’ll pry them out of you one day. You could never hide anything from me for long.”

“So you say.” He grinned, glancing between her lips and pretty eyes.

She gasped dramatically. “Are you hinting that you have secrets I don’t know about?”

“Perhaps,” he whispered.

“Tell me!” She insisted, giggling as he suddenly pulled out of her space. She slipped her arm around his as he began walking them back to her apartment. “Oh please?”

He shook his head. “I have to work on being mysterious, you said so yourself.”

“Oh you can be mysterious to everyone else. I must know.” She insisted, chuckling.

“Not a chance. I’ll have to wait, confess my darkness near the end of the story.” He guided her up the front steps and towards her door.

“Any point in life could be the end of your story, mister Barnes. Might as well spill your secrets now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, doll.” He chuckled, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

“You say that now. You’ll regret this when nobody knows your mighty secrets.” She blushed, watching him kiss the soft skin of her hands.

“You know all the best about me, that's all I care about. And you, miss? Any dark secrets you’re dying to confess?”

She shrugged, busying her hands with adjusting his collar. “A few, but a woman should always have a few secrets for herself.”

“How contradicting.”

She smiled, stepping closer. “They say that's the perfect way to describe a woman.”

He shook his head slowly, staring down at her. “I’d describe you differently.”

“And how's that?”

“Perfect,” he whispered, a warm pink tinting the tips of his ears. She grinned up at him, brushing his jaw with her gentle touch. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She pretended not to notice the way he chased the touch when she pulled back.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky.” She whispered.

He nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on her hips. “I’d do it every night if I could.”

She chuckled, stepping back to open her front door. “If only,” she agreed. She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Music wafted around them softly as Bucky held her close. Couples around them laughed, giggling into eachothers spaces. Bucky hummed softly to the lyrics, his palm sweeping down her back.

“I love this song.” She whispered against his shoulder, the gentle tune of I love how you love me by Bobby Vinton surrounding them.

“Oh yeah?” He muttered, looking down at her.

“Mhm,” she smiled raking her nails gently through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh leaving his chest. He leaned into her touch, her fingers dancing along his skin. His thumbs pressed gently into her waist as he guided their slow sway.

He opened his eyes to see her watching him. His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Let me take you home.” He whispered.

“Yeah?” She muttered breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Take me home.”

They were slow on their stroll, enjoying the feeling of the summer night air against their skin. They took their time, arms around one another as they pointed at the stars, picking out the brightest ones to name.

There was no rush.

There was just each other.

So when her front door finally unlocked, and she beckoned him inside, he felt at peace. At home.

A single lamp by the door flickered to life as she clicked it on, shedding her purse and scarf on the nearest chair. She glanced at the man over her shoulder.

“Help me with my necklace?”

He smiled to himself, stepping into her space, her back against his chest. She plucked her earrings free as he busied his fingers with the clasp of her pearls.

Bucky laid out the necklace on the vanity at their side, then traced his fingers along the column of her neck. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder. She sighed, rolling her head to the side subtly.

Bucky smiled to himself, dragging his lips and peppering small kisses in their wake along her throat. His hand slipped into her hair, tugging her pretty ribbon free, letting it flutter to the floor.

She let him shower her in gentle affection, leaning back into him as his hands met her hips. She tilted her head to the side, catching his lips with her own. He hummed quietly into her mouth, warm and familiar.

She shivered as his touch ghosted along the fabric of her back.

He pulled back, his lips brushing her ear, his breath warm.

“Let me, please?” He whispered, his finger toying with the zipper of her dress.

She shuddered, nodding slowly.

The zipper made a light buzzing sound as it released, dragging down her back. The warm air of her apartment felt fresh and prickling against her naked skin.

Bucky’s warm palms slid over her shoulders, guiding the dress to fall at her feet. He released a sharp breath against her neck as he looked down at her.

She turned her blushing gaze to look back at him, over her shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, turning her by the hips. Her hands found his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then to her jaw, letting his lips travel down her neck. To her shock, he slowly sank to his knees before her.

Her breath stuck in her chest as she watched him, slipping his thumbs beneath her stockings.

He looked up at her, bright blue eyes, pretty pink lips, dark swept hair. He guided her tights down her thighs, his calluses raising shivers along her skin.

He traced a path down to her knees in kisses, his lips ticklish in the way they gently pressed into her.

He slipped her heels from her feet, letting them clatter to the side.

“Oh, Bucky,” she gasped breathlessly as he swept his tongue along her hip, just above her panties.

“Let me take care ‘f you, sweetheart.” He muttered, his voice sounding deep against her body.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.”

When he finally shed his layers, standing before her naked and purely him, her breath hitched in her throat. He didn’t give her the time to worship how he did, as he guided her body back against the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, spreading her knees to make room for himself.

She shivered, his palms dragging patterns up her stomach and over her bare chest. She arched into it, his name falling from her lips.

He groaned, leaning back over her. “So pretty, doll.” He slipped his fingers into his mouth, leaving his lips shiny and wet as he moved them between her legs.

She shuddered at the first touch of him, warm and familiar, and so distinctly Bucky. “Bucky-” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“‘M right here, doll.” He kissed along her jaw, working her open with his slow hands.

She panted, dragging her fingers down his stomach to where he was aching. He shuddered, his head dropping to her shoulder as she wrapped her fingers around him. “So good, Bucky…” she whispered.

He groaned into her neck, pulling his hands from between her legs. His tongue swept across her throat. He pulled back.

He looked so pretty above her, cheeks flushed, lips wet, hair a mess. And those eyes. Oh those eyes.

“Let me make you feel good, pretty.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. She nodded, kissing his thumbprint. A lopsided grin sparked his expression as he dove down to kiss her.

She giggled against him, raising her knees around his hips.

His hand pushed between them, aligning himself. She smiled into his kiss, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” he choked, rolling his hips into her. His hand found hers, fingers locking together.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she curled a hand in his hair. She hiccupped, blinking through tears as she rocked her hips against him. “I love you too.”

“You’re enlisting?” The words had reality setting in on her all too quickly. Like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. The war had been raging on for a long time, taking its toll on the world and her daily life.

She’d been called to the workforce, given an option of ways she could support her country as the men were called to battle. She’d taken her pick of chasing after something she’d long given up. She worked with other women, building engines for fighter planes and military vehicles. It was hard work, but she felt passion growing in her every time she went to work.

It was hard to ignore the war, doing what she did, but she did her best. If she thought about it for too long, the anxiety would set in. The past grief of losing her father to the military, the fear for the future, and now, the dread of what would become of her favorite person alive.

Bucky nodded, taking his hands in hers. “I’ve already applied-”

“And you didn’t tell me first?” She wanted to pull back, hurt clear on her face.

“I’m sorry-” he stepped closer, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. “I just- I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

“I-” she stopped herself, lowering her gaze to the floor between them. She couldn’t deny that she would have begged him not to. She nodded slowly. “When?”

“Not for a while, I need to train first. But after that, they’ll be shipping me off immediately, I assume.”

She swore at herself internally for the tears that burned behind her eyes. Why was she being so dramatic? This didn’t have to mean forever. It didn’t have to mean the end.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” He begged, his warm hand cupping her cheek. She slowly lifted her gaze to his. His expression softened, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, sugar.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be okay. I’m good when I listen, even better when I try. I’ll be okay.”

She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his back. She nodded slowly. “Will you write to me?”

“Every damn day,” he whispered into her hair.

“Promise you’ll be careful?”

He nodded. “Of course, there’s no way I’m staying away for longer than I have to. Not when I have you waiting on me.”

Her stomach flipped at his direct words. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and nuzzled closer to his chest. She took a moment to listen to the sound of his chest rising and falling with breath. He was alive, and he would stay that way. He had to. “Does Steve know?”

He nodded. “He won’t quit trying to enlist with me.”

She pulled back, her hands on his waist. “He won’t give up, you know.” She lifted a brow. “That man has the heart of a lion.”

Bucky smiled, his own chest swelling with affection for the woman who loved his best friend with such intensity. “I know, but there’s other ways to help.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She poked his chest. He caught her hand, his smile softening.

“Too late.”

“Clearly.”

The train station smelled of smoke and oil.

Children cried from the sidelines, clinging to their fathers as they said goodbye. Carts of luggage rolled past. Brothers and friends cheered as they waved to each other, boarding the train.

She couldn't focus on any of it.

Bucky's lips pressed against hers, bruising and warm. His strong hands pressed against her lower back, curled in her hair. She trembled in his arms, hair nails biting into the green of his uniform.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. His breath trembled against her skin.

"I'll be seeing you," she whispered, caressing his jaw.

He nodded against her, his lips twitching up. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You better." She huffed.

When he slipped from her fingers, moving towards the train as soldiers called, announcing final boarding, she felt her heart go with him. She tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry. She wanted him to remember her smiling.

He was only leaving for training. This didn't mean forever. But it felt like it.

He watched her from the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out. "I mean it doll, I'm coming back for you." He shouted, a toothy grin flashing.

She shook her head at him, holding back a teary laugh. She stumbled forward, reaching up to catch his hand. "Sergeant Barnes, you better write me every damn day."

She wished she could reach him further. She wished she could pull him back into her arms.

He huffed, squeezing her fingers. The train blared, signaling its soon departure. He looked up to the cop patrolling the station. "Hey man, help me out here?" He shouted.

She glanced back, the large officer approaching her with a huff. She could guess he'd been doing this all day. She yelped as he lifted her from beneath the arms and boosted her up to the window.

Bucky leaned out further, his palms sliding along her jaw. He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, a desperate goodbye. She swallowed a choked whimper, her fingers curling in his hair.

"I love you, baby." He whispered against her lips.

She nodded, blinking away tears. "I love you too."

She wiped the back of her hand against the scarf in her hair, blue paint making her fingers sticky. The air smelled of oil and metal, the sounds of drills and shifting propellers causing a ruckus of noise.

She was slow and precise as she painted out the American insignia along the wing of a plane in the works.

“Have you taken a break yet, ma’am?” A familiar voice called to her from behind. She nearly dropped her brush when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” She laughed, setting the paint can on the floor. She jogged up to him, wrapping him in a quick hug as he lifted her off the ground.

“What, I can’t come visit my best girl?” He grinned, setting her back on the ground.

She swatted his arm, pulling back to look at him clearly. He looked just the same, tall, charming, and handsome. She last saw him three months ago, when he received his first leave to visit home since he started training. “No, you can’t, not unless-” her smile dropped.

His expression turned shy and guilty.

“You’ve finished your training?”

He nodded, his warm hands rubbing gentle circles on her waist. “Came here straight away. I wanted to see you.”

She cupped his face, cradling him in her touch. “So you’re leaving then? Do you know where?”

“They’re shipping me off to Europe in two days time.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Wait here,” she pulled back.

He laughed in shock. “Where are you going?”

“To ask if I can leave early. You’re not leaving until you give me a dance first.”

Rain hailed down from the sky with vengeance, like God was warning her of future hardships. She peaked through her curtains, her stomach twisting. “I guess we aren’t going out tonight, are we?” She muttered, glancing back at Bucky, where he stood in her living room.

The man was sifting through her records, picking one out. “That doesn’t have to change anything.”

She watched as he set the record on her record player. The music clicked on, filling the small apartment with warmth. He held his hand out to her expectantly. “Come here.”

She softened at the sight of him, gentle and sweet. She took his hand and allowed him to lead them into a slow sway. She rested her cheek against his chest, her eyes sliding closed. He hummed softly, his fingers tapping against her waist.

She wanted them to stay in that moment forever, suspended in intimacy. She didn’t care what it looked like to other people, a man and woman, unmarried, dancing in her apartment. She didn’t care that she was different, or that he was different. She didn’t care that he had to leave, and that there was a war raging on outside.

She just wanted to be with him.

“Do you remember when I helped you move?” His voice broke the soft silence, melting together with the music. She nodded into his chest.

“How could I not? The way you came crashing into everything.” She chuckled softly.

“You make me sound like some rambunctious kid.” He huffed.

“Oh, well that's because you are.” She giggled.

“I beg to differ,” he denied.

“Oh really? You’re all grown up now then, I guess?”

“Mhm, big and strong.” He smiled down at her, that familiar charm oozing from his very being.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said the title, trying to get comfortable with the word. “Very grown indeed.” It felt bitter sweet on her tongue.

He softened, rubbing his hand down her back as they swayed. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered.

She nodded, sliding her arms around his neck. “Promise you won’t change?”

He shrugged cheekily, “maybe, who knows? I might come back with a mustache and a German accent.” He teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d leave you high and dry,” she huffed.

“No you wouldn’t.”

“No,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the music fill the loaded silence between them. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she realized his hands felt rougher. Calloused from hard training.

“Promise you’ll still love me?”

“There’s nothing in the world that could change that, doll.” He told her, his blue eyes sharp in the warm lamp light of her living room. “Nothing.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me?”

“I promise.”

Dear Y/n,

We have made it safely to Italy. It’s quite beautiful here, I think you would like it. I already feel my chest aching when I think of you. I miss you dearly. When I return home, I will take you to a nice Italian restaurant and tell you about all the words I’ve learned here.

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n,

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of our future, and honey I quite like it. I can picture nights in your arms, lulled to sleep under the melody of your voice. Until then, I’ll dream of you, and tell stories of your eccentric soul. The boys shame me for not bringing a pair of your pantyhose with me, I’ll have to remember it for later.

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n,

I’d give my left arm to be with you right now. I guess I’m really in love with you doll, in fact beyond the guessing stage, it’s a fact. I love you very very much, darling, and will be the happiest guy in the country when you are Mrs. Barnes. I miss you every day.

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

She had to make a choice. Blood, or metal. It wasn’t something she thought she’d have to weigh when she was a child, but it was something she was now faced with.

Since Bucky’s deployment, she spent her time working hard on the machines she was tasked with repairing and manufacturing. She was taking Red Cross training on her weekends, as recommended by the Sergeants running her warehouse. Almost all the women were.

It meant a constant stick of needles in her arms, and a constant stench of blood. There were days when she was run out of the warehouse, ordered to pursue her duties as a healer of sorts.

She didn’t much enjoy it.

In fact, she detested it. Having to be faced with the reality of how violent this war was just made her sick. It made her afraid. It made her dread each letter she received, fearing one would read condolences about her long time lover.

“Steve?” The woman gaped at the hulking form sitting at the bar. “It really… geez.”

The blonde turned around, a bright smile on his face as he saw the girl. “Hi,” his voice was still soft and timid, a far contrast from his new body. He wrapped her in a quick hug before gesturing for her to join him.

“I mean, look at you!” She laughed, feeling meek under his broad form. “Did it hurt?” She muttered, poking him in the arm.

“A bit.” He chuckled.

“Shouldn’t you have stretch marks, or something? I’d think your skin would tear open around all… that.” She gestured at him. The bartender came over and took her order. She had a martini, extra olives.

He bit back a snicker. “I thought so too- but I guess not. Most of the technical talk went right over my head.” He took a swig from his cup.

She bit into an olive once her glass was set before her. “It’s quite impressive.” She nodded. She took a moment to really take him in, and all the things that had changed in just a few months. He still had that boyish smile, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. He had that soft gaze, still nervous to look people in the eyes. But he was different.

Something beyond the physical.

He was changed by what had happened to him, by what he was capable of. “How are you?” She muttered, glancing down at her drink. She stirred the clear liquid with her toothpick, her lip tucked between her teeth as she thought of all that changed.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “It all feels-” he let out a heavy sigh. “I should be out there. With him.”

She nodded, feeling that bittersweet roll of her stomach every time she thought of him. It had only been a few months, but it felt like eternity. They went from seeing eachother once a week, holding each other in their arms, to a letter every now and then.

“How do you think he’s doing?”

He huffed, his lips curling in a laugh. “I think he’s doing just fine. He’s too stubborn to die.”

She snickered, sipping on her drink. “Now that I can agree.”

“Oh come on! You have to ask her out, Steve!” She gasped, slapping at her friend's shoulder.

He shook his head, his cheeks flushed pink. “We’re in the middle of war. She’s- she’s busy. I barely even see her now, with the tour and all.”

“Oh yes, the tour.” She waved her hand. “But like you said, we’re in the middle of a war. There's no time to wait around.” She grinned over the lip of her glass.

He rolled his eyes at the girl. “You are one to talk, hon.” He squinted at her. “Everyone around us is running to the chapel in the wake of battle. Why aren’t you?” He raised a brow at her.

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing red. “Steve!” She laughed nervously. “You can’t exactly head to the chapel alone.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you two do it? Before he left?”

She felt stiff, her stomach twisting. She stared at the chipped wood of the bar. “I don’t know, really.” She muttered, her chest feeling sore. “I do wish-” she huffed, slapping a hand over her eyes. “We wanted to wait, you see? I knew he wanted to enlist, and he knew how hard it would be. We wanted to wait until he was home for good.”

Thinking back on it now, she wished she would have dragged him to the chapel years ago. She wished she would have slipped a ring on his finger and planted a kiss on those pink lips long ago.

“Don’t wait, Steve. Just don’t.”

She, much to her own shock, was deployed. Not as a soldier, but as a medic and mechanic. The Red Cross was tasked with touring Europe, giving blood and aid wherever they could. She didn’t think she would be asked, but with her experience building and repairing engines, they decided she would be a rather nice asset.

She wrote to Bucky, informing him of her shocking travels, hoping to hear from him before she left. The sad fact was that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The reality of that set her skin on fire, but she always took a moment to remind herself that no news is good news. An empty mailbox also meant there wasn’t a condolence letter waiting on her.

She wanted to write to Steve, but he was also on tour. Traveling the country- and even Europe- to uplift the spirits of the masses. So with only a few dear goodbyes to loved ones still back home, she set off to Europe.

After only a few days, she found herself in Azzano Italy. She felt excitement buzzing in her veins at the thought of being in the same place as Bucky again.

He took a piece of her heart with him when he left, and it now ached to seal that hole.

Much to her dismay, the 107th infantry regiment wasn’t likely to just be sitting back at the base. They were gone, fighting a war that seemed impossible to end.

She thought she would feel better, being so close- knowing he could return any day. But she was so deeply wrong. She spent her days in a stained tent, staunching wounds with her bare hands, begging death not to take another good man.

She was faced with the most raw reality of the war. And suddenly she dreaded seeing Bucky. She feared seeing his beaten face be dragged onto a table before her, bleeding and dying right before her eyes.

In her moments of reprieve, she found herself growing close with the infamous Peggy Carter. She was the only woman in the base that had a position of power. She held herself with a steady confidence, unafraid to put a doubtful man in their place. She was so deeply kind to the woman, though. Which she was beyond grateful for.

She always made sure to bite back her grin whenever Peggy asked about Steve. She wished she could scold the boy for not writing to the woman sooner. She always said as much.

Everything was wrong.

Everything was wet, soaked in mud, and rain, and blood.

Body after body was dragged into her tent. The screams of men pierced her ears, rattling in her bones.

One, two, seven, eighteen, twenty nine, the numbers kept growing- but not enough.

Not enough.

She searched the faces desperately, her fingers stained with the blood of dozens as she sifted through bodies.

He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t with them.

He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive.

He was just gone.

She collapsed into soft mud and threw up everything in her stomach.

She could hear the women singing from her tent at the center of the base. She couldn’t bring herself to move from her cot. Was it Steve? She wondered, she wished, she prayed. But she just couldn’t move. Her body felt devoid of life.

It had been days.

It had been an eternity since news came of the ambush.

It had been a lifetime since she saw him.

She was on the verge of being shipped home, the nerves and grief weighing her down so heavily she could barely focus. She spent every waking moment on her feet, tending to the dying. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was doing everything she could not to get sick- sobbing so heavily that her throat closed around dry heaves.

She searched for his face everywhere she looked.

He was never there.

“Y/n?” The familiar voice had the woman stumbling on her feet, blood soaked hands wiping hair from her face.

“Steve.” She gaped at the man, her eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Stevie,” she whimpered, falling into him. “Steve, he-”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, rubbing a fast hand along her back. “But listen, I’m going to find him, okay? I’m going after the 107th.”

The words felt like a fantasy to her ears. Like a far fetched dream- one only Steve could cook up. She looked up at him, her brows knit together deeply. “But-”

“I’m going.” His voice was quick and hard, like he was afraid she may try to stop him. “I have to- I-I have to.”

“You have to,” she whispered, clutching the dark green coat he wore. “You- I have to know.” She tried to steady the shake in her voice. “I can’t take not knowing.” Looking to the side, she wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I need to- I need to know…”

“I’m leaving tonight,” he set a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

She smiled wryly up at the large man. “Back at you.”

The sounds of men cheering from afar broke the silent prayer the woman was whispering over her cot. Her whole body went rigid, her blood ran cold.

They were back.

She nearly tripped over the opening of her tent as she scrambled outside. They had been gone two days at most, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like her own world was slowly crumbling around her. Like the truth was slowly chasing her down.

A truth she couldn’t bear.

A truth so sick, so deeply wretched, it might destroy her.

A truth she was coming to slowly accept.

But then she saw him.

Standing there, beside a man dressed in the flag of freedom, was the love of her life.

Dirty, bruised, beaten and bloody, but alive.

Alive.

Her feet carried her the rest of the way, her mind taking time to catch up. His name left her lips in a cry, desperate for this to be real. Sharp blue eyes met hers, the set of his jaw loosening.

A sob left her throat as she threw herself at him- a rifle jabbing into her chest between them. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him so close he was almost one with her.

The rifle fell at their feet.

Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her feet from the mud. She sobbed freely into his collar, her fingers curling in his hair. He whispered into her shoulder, his voice ragged and tired.

He repeated her name, chanting it like a prayer.

“You’re here- you’re here…”

She only noticed it then, but he was trembling. He swayed on his feet, holding her firm to his body. The sickening thought of what he may have endured crossed her mind. “You’re alive-” She cried, tears mixing with the sweat on his neck.

The men around the couple whooped and hollered, cheering for a very singular type of victory. A very foreign one. One of love.

He lowered her slightly to stand on her own, his body slumping against hers; he longed desperately to fall into her, to find peace in her arms. She petted his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple. “You’re okay…you’re okay…”

The train ride to England was spent in quiet whispers and gentle bandaging. The woman helped her wounded soldier into a cabin, helping him ease onto his seat. The adrenaline rush that had kept him running for so long was slowly fizzing out, and it was wearing on him.

She knelt before him, a medics bag at her side.

Finally alone, she held his face in her hands, her thumb gently caressing his bruised cheek. His bruising looked peculiar to her eye, oddly but specifically shaped. She traced the purple lines.

“I thought…” She swallowed, her voice cracking in the silence. He looked up at her through his lashes, his posture hunched. “I thought I lost you.”

He pressed into her touch, his palm covering hers. “I know,” he was weak, tired, and in pain, but he relished this moment with her. “I thought I was dead…”

Her heart ached in her chest, ideas of what he endured torturing her. “What…What happened?” She traced her knuckles along the soft part of his cheek.

He shook his head slowly, shivering as memories flashed behind his eyelids. “I don’t know.” He started, leaning closer to her. “I was out of it- they gave me something. It felt like fire in my veins.” He swallowed, staring down at his hands in his lap. She realized he was afraid of what they’d done. Maybe it was poison. Maybe something else.

She nodded, gently petting his face. “We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

He glanced up at her through his lashes, his lip bitten between his teeth. He returned her soft nod, turning to press his lips to her palm.

She leaned up on her knees to pull him into a soft hug, rubbing her hand down his back. He rested against her shoulder.

She watched the world pass by outside the window, pine trees wheezing by in a flurry of green.

“You joined the Red Cross.” He muttered against her shoulder, his voice soft.

“Mhm,” she hummed, raking her nails up his neck. “Didn’t have much of a choice at first. But I’m so glad I did,” she pressed her lips to his hair.

He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I love you so much,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to her lips. She let out a shaky breath, pressing closer. In the back of her mind, she could barely remember the last time they really kissed. He was always so gentle with her. She loved that about him.

But this moment, this kiss, it wasn’t even really about the act. It was about intimacy. The closeness. The feeling of being real under each other's touch. It was about feeling his breath against her face, about feeling the warmth of his tongue. It was about knowing he’s alive, he’s okay, and he’s with her.

She pulled back, her forehead resting against his. “I love you so much.”

“You’re going back?” The lighthearted air between the group fizzled away, leaving a trail of awkwardness in its wake. She stared at the group of men, her heart rate picking up steadily.

She stood quickly, rattling the table, and stumbled away.

She heard Steve call after them as Bucky followed her. “Y/n,” Bucky chased her, catching her wrist once they were alone.

She spun back to face him, slapping her hands against his chest. “How could you not tell me?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“I-”

“I mean- how could you? Why would you go back? After everything Steve did to get you back? After what happened- after what you went through?” She interrupted, her shaking hands tangling in her hair. “Why, Bucky, why?”

He gently took her wrists, leaning down to catch her eyes. “Hey, look at me- hey,” his voice lowered, softening around the edges. “That's why I have to do it, baby. I can’t-” he gulped. “I can’t let them do it alone. I can’t let Steve do this alone.”

She blinked through the tears gathering in her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the sickness swirling in her gut. “I can’t do that again, Bucky.”

“I know-”

“We-” she gasped, tilting her head back, trying to keep the tears at bay. “We were supposed to get married.”

He gently took her face in hand, his brows knit together. “We will.” He promised. “There isn’t a thing in this life that could stop me from making you mine.”

“Except death,” she whispered, leaning into his thumb as it swept away her tears.

“I’ll have Steve this time, okay? I’ll have a super soldier having my back, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I’m coming home.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to have faith in him and his men, in Steve. But she felt this gnawing, gut wrenching feeling that if she let him go, he would never come back. But she also knew, there was no stopping the thick headed man. Not when Steve was involved.

“I can’t stop you,” she accepted. “I know I can’t.” He watched her sadly, silent- knowing he wouldn’t deny it. “I chose a man who would never back down, didn’t I? It’s all my fault.” She huffed.

He smiled gently, wrapping her in his arms. “All your fault.”

“What?”

The words- short and quiet, whispered, like they were too awful to say- stuck into her skin like needles.

“He-” Peggy cleared her throat, voice raw and eyes red. “They didn’t make it.”

Slow, like time had stopped just to elongate that moment, she felt her heart clench in her chest.

Something cold and dark swirled in her veins, numbing her body. “They didn't-” Her voice broke, her chest restricting. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t.

It was wrong.

It was all wrong. None of this could be real, it just couldn’t.

“It was reported that he- he took Captain Roger’s shield and fired at the enemy. He was protecting Rogers.” Peggy’s expression was cold, like she too was trying not to cry. “The side of the train was blown open. Barnes- he just…”

“Don't-” that name. Oh god, his name.

It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. It just wasn’t.

Everything in her swayed, her breath coming in quick pants as she tried to steady herself. “He-” Tears burned behind her eyes, coming too quick to blink away. She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

He was gone.

She pressed her hand to her chest, hard and rough, hitting the center of her breasts. She was shaking, moving in denial. She needed to breathe, she needed to stop the ache- the tight twisting and twisting of her lungs and heart.

It was all wrong

She was sobbing now, wet streaks burning cold against her heated skin. She couldn’t feel anything as her body hit the floor. Not the cold concrete. Not the torn skin of her knees. Not the concerned touch of Peggy.

Nothing but the all consuming grief that suffocated her.

A/N: Whew! I put it all in one for this one. This is one of my very favorite works I've ever done! I have a soft place in my heart for 1940s Bucky. Also yes I do have a part 2 where she ends up in the future and he sees her again and its sad as fuck (As I do)

72 notes · View notes

portraitofalinkonfyre · 2 days ago

Text

How The Links Got Their Names

Notes: Written for @mirensiart <33

Link Lofty was ready.

“In two miles, turn right on West Holdrege Street to arrive at your destination of 5805 West Holdrege Street”, his GPS, Fi, blared at top, scratchy volume, nestled in the cozy dashboard of his 2011 Volkswagen Beetle. He didn’t particularly care for driving, because Zelda was more than happy to step up–as she tended to do a lot in their relationship–but something told him the love of his life wouldn’t be especially pleased to know he was risking his life for what had to be the dumbest idea he’d had to date, and that was factoring in the calamity that was his bitch of a boss–cleverly nicknamed “Demise” for his cruel and unusual enforcement of company policy and iron-fist when any and all interns were involved; Link himself had been one of those interns, but now he was manager, so Mr. Ganon Gerudo could fuck himself right where it hurts—into the convoluted, rather-insane equation.

So, when his phone had dinged one innocuous afternoon to inform him that he’d been added to an even more innocuous nine-person messenger group, there was little Link could do but read the ringleader’s—who was also named Link!–message, which proclaimed a date, set of coordinates in Nebraska, of all places, and intent to fight over their shared name.

It was… well, Link thought it was rather fascinating, so, after obscuring the message group from his girlfriend Zelda’s well-meaning gaze, he promptly scoured his mind for an excuse to be in Nebraska on any day, eventually landing on the time-tested ‘business trip’ spiel, only that his manager had been extra considerate in informing him a year early. He didn’t consider it lying, because it really was business, just not the type his beloved thought as she wished him farewell through the driver’s window of their shared sky-blue Volkswagen, waving from the driveway until he was out of sight.

And now, six grueling hours later, he was here. The sky was a healthy, cloudless cerulean, melding almost seamlessly with the building-dotted horizon as Link pulled off the highway, tires crunching as they made contact with the thin gravel of the country-esque road. A sense of calm washed over the man as he drove, easily navigating to his destination with Fi’s ever-screamed assistance.

A folded piece of paper lay in the pocket of his white-washed jeans, bearing names like Quentin, Theo, and, Zelda’s personal favorite after a spectacularly sneaky game of ‘what would you name me if I was a dog’: Skyler. Link wasn't sure how he felt about the first two, provided the Master-batter—his trusty and appropriately-named baseball bat—proved to be no match for his opponents, but he could get on with Skyler, if worse came to worst. Probably because that would give him grounds to call his beloved “Sun” without having to explain any wonderfully cheeky wordplay.

The road stretched on and on. Link checked his rearview mirror, noting the appearance of a man riding a rather flashy black motorcycle and an equally flashy, royal-blue Dodge Challenger pulling in behind him. He glanced at the clock—11:50 am—and halfheartedly wondered if this was his competition.

In the distance, a chrome-white Toyota Tacoma was parked by the road, a tall blonde man leaning against the bed, smoking what appeared to be a half-finished cigarette. He looked distinctly familiar; perhaps Link Lon-Lon? Link had taken care to scroll the members list last night so the situation couldn’t possibly confuse him more than it already did. Behind Lon-Lon, another blonde man—dressed in a brilliant blue tracksuit that contrasted harshly with the corn-colored swathes of hair that grew from his head, so long that Link swore they seemed infinite at first glance—sat atop the dented roof of a lapis Subaru Outback that looked like it had seen many better days.

With a sigh worthy of someone in the depths of seasonal depression, Link pulled onto the side of the road, taking a few short breaths to compose and prepare himself for the fuckery that was about to ensue. When he was ready, he stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed the Master-batter from the backseat, knowing full well that his life would never fully be the same once this was over.

Link—er, Wild, because he’d been mentally practicing going by a new name on the incredibly rare off-chance that one of the other blokes he invited to the middle of nowhere managed to get the upper hand—was ready. He watched stoically as three more vehicles slithered down the winding road: a sky-blue Volkswagen that only a sane (that was going to be a problem, because he was banking on the fact that they were all a little insane) person would dare own, obsidian motorcycle than he wouldn’t mind stealing if Zelda hadn’t forced him to promise to try and be a law-abiding citizen, and a Dodge Challenger that somehow managed to be bluer than the ever-brilliant sky.

As the vehicles pulled closer, Link Lon-Lon, the first to arrive after him, sighed with the defeat only a father would know, putting out his cigarette and standing to his full, impressive height, arms crossed over what Link had to admit was an especially beefy chest. How old was this guy, forty? Fifty? Sixty? He certainly talked like it, Link gathered after a tense first meeting to confirm that the man was here for the name and not because he lived in an underground bunker hidden somewhere on the property.

The Link in the adorable Volkswagen exited first, relinquishing a fucking baseball bat from the backseat before walking forward; steps tentative, yet determined. Link hopped from the roof to greet him. “Hey, Link!” he called, waving both hands over his head. Lon-Lon watched the exchange quietly, small tendrils of smoke still puffing from his lips. “You are Link, right?”

The man in question nodded, sending his chocolate-blonde hair into a shaking mess with every bob. “That’s me,” he paused, looked down at his bat, then back at Link, expression somewhat incredulous. “...And you’re Link?”

Link–Wild, he reminded himself, wondering how many times Zelda would smack him over the head if he turned up at her lab with a whole new name–nodded with much more visible excitement. “That’s me!” he parroted, just to fuck with the other man, who was beginning to look just as amused as Lon-Lon. “Last name?”

“...Lofty.”

Link made a show of pulling out a pre-made checklist scribbled on the back of one of Zelda’s abandoned worksheets and checking off one “Link Lofty”. Both Lon-Lon and Lofty stared at him, and, oh, did it feel good to be regarded as though he was brilliantly insane.

Someone cleared their throat, and another man approached the group. He was tall and built, dressed in what Link could only describe as the most sexy un-sexy biker get-up he’d seen since Zelda shamed him into parting with his dearly-beloved YouTube shorts. Effortlessly-tousled dirty-blonde hair swept across his forehead, parted in a manner that made Link–Wild–briefly consider chopping his hard-grown hair off to replicate it.

“‘M gonna guess y’all are Link?”

Dear Hylia, was that a country accent? Swoon!

“That’s me!” Link—Hylia, he really needed to remember that it could be ‘Wild’!–-chimed, just as the two others responded similarly. Yeah, this was already weird, but when wasn’t it? Zelda liked to say it was his superpower, in addition to being more indestructible than a cockroach. “Name?”

Sexy-cowboy’s brow furrowed. His hip, the one the biker helmet was poised on, cocked incredulously. He did not look amused. “...Link Ordon.”

Lofty looked up, his fingers fingering the end of his very metal, very dangerous bat. Should Link have banned those? Naw. “Oh, from Kentucky?”

The newly-named Ordon’s expression softened some, and he broke into a grin. “Tha’s right, ya’ve been?”

“Once, with my girlfriend,” Lofty smiled, relinquishing part of his hold on the bat to brush a bit of hair from his face. Link watched; he didn’t understand why they were getting chummy when they were here to fight for name custody, but he was hardly one to judge.

“Good fer ya,” Ordon suddenly snapped his fingers. “Hey, y’all try our pumpkin stew last ya were there?”

“I think so! It was really good, but I prefer the one from my hometown.”

Just like that, there was silence. Ordon’s expression returned to something vaguely constipated, and, oh dear, was that cultural offense? Oh no? Link shared a half-glance with Lon-Lon, who looked seconds away from relighting his cigarette.

“Lemme guess, yer from Skyloft City?”

Lofty looked apprehensive, like he was going to piss. Or take a defensive swing with that bat. Link wasn’t sure which was worse. “...Are we going to have a problem?”

Before Orodon could answer, the doors to the Dodge Challenger that had been idling on the opposite side of the road finally swung open, revealing—

“Ya invited a fuckin’ child?!” Ordon exclaimed in abject horror.

—what appeared to be a fourteen-year-old boy and his very gay, alcohol-addicted father. Well, Link rather assumed that after all the simultaneous 2 am fashion designer quotes dotting his page and the divorced-dad vibes the guy seemed to naturally exude, but he could never be sure. Should he ask? Zelda would have said no, followed by a half-hearted smack to the back of his head for behaving like a hyperactive toddler, but Link wasn’t Zelda, which meant he was thus lawless.

“ARE YOU THE FATHER?!” He screamed across the road as the man and boy approached. Lon-Lon facepalmed, while Ordon and Lofty looked chagrined by the mere insinuation that he’d invited a child into this madness. It wasn’t Link’s fault; they were friends on Hyrule Messenger, so how was he supposed to exercise proper internet procedure and check bios?

“He’s done with life,” the fourteen-year-old answered with the confidence of a forty-year-old man. “That’s why we’re getting soft tacos later.”

The man in question scowled, looking down at his companion. He too was blonde, though it was far lighter than the likes of Ordon and Lofty, possibly even Link himself, who was quite proud of his ability to blind most people when his hair hit any patch of light. “Sailor— I swear to—”

“Sailor? You’re changing your legal name to ‘Sailor’?” Link interjected; incredulous, and the smallest bit baffled. He knew Wild was a bit… out there, but this was a whole different issue. What kind of father would allow that?

Ordon made a noise of confusion. “Hol’ up, legal name?”

“...You’re kidding me,” Link’s jaw fell open, but he closed it quickly after remembering that Zelda was the only one interested in seeing him like that. “I mentioned that, like, two-hundred days ago.”

Realization dawned upon the group. Gay-father and Ordon looked shocked, while Lofty fingered the paper Wild could see poking from the front pocket of his jeans and Lon-Lon’s expression drifted ever closer to mirroring Link’s—or was he Wild? Did he care anymore??—mugshot after getting caught setting his girlfriend’s kidnapper’s residence on fire. Only Link—the child—pulled out his phone to be remotely helpful.

“You didn’t,” the fourteen-year-old paused, then resolved to continue making the rest of them look dumb with his advanced vocabulary. A few taps could be heard. “You’re a lot more articulate over text though.”

Wild—Aw, jeez, Link—bristled. He placed his hands on his hips and tried to look intimidating, but he was also short as hell, so it definitely didn’t have the same effect as it would if Lon-Lon had instantaneously chosen violence to end the conundrum before it robbed an ounce more sanity from everyone involved. “What did you think I meant?”

“Ah thought ya meant nicknames,” stated Ordon. He also held a piece of crumpled paper in his hand, though, unlike Lofty, the look he shot it could have ignited stone.

Ah, thought Wild in a moment of clarity stolen from Zelda, definitely a nickname.

JSSSSHHHHH!

All heads turned when a beat-up brown 1981 Toyota Land Cruiser came barreling over the hill, screeching to a stop over the hot, dry grass. Apparently, this Link didn’t see the merit of obeying traffic laws, which was both totally respectable and highly encouraged. All was silent as the driver's door jiggled, and Link could vaguely see the outline of a brown-haired man through the tinted windshield.

The door jiggled some more, and a muffled curse filtered out from the interior of the Toyota.

A beat passed.

The jiggling grew more furious.

Ordon took a half step forward. Wild—Link—tried not to observe his shapely calves, even if it was just to marvel at how anyone could be so goddamn thicc. “...Ah’m gonna—”

As if by fate, the door swung open with a loud bang. The man inside, who looked far younger without all the tint in the way, lowered his foot and stepped out. He was about the same height as Link himself, with mahogany-colored curls that looked just as untamed as Link’s penchant for getting himself into any and all manner of trouble.

“Hi,” said the new guy. He sounded shy. He also looked easy to pin. Link was not intimidated. Until the other man reached into the side of the door and pulled out what appeared to be an aerosol can and a lighter.

Suddenly, Link was intimidated, though it was Lon-Lon who beat him to the punch.

“Absolutely not.”

The Curly Link seemed to deflate a bit. He glanced down at his treasures, then back at the group. Specifically Link—Wild—who was quite obviously the ringleader of the operation, considering the clipboard he had raised over his chest like a shield. “...I didn’t see a weapons list,” he defended.

Ah, Wild knew he had forgotten something. Drat. He lowered his clipboard now that there wasn’t any imminent danger of being spontaneously ignited. “...Last name?”

“Wait, Cap, does that mean we can’t use the rifle?” Came “Sailor’s” whisper to his obviously gay guardian at the back of the group.

Curly Link hesitated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a torn piece of paper so yellow it may as well have been parchment, squinting at it for several long seconds before mumbling: “...Hyrule?”

Wild checked his list, ignoring how closely the other man’s admission sounded to a question. There was no mention of a Link Hyrule, but there was an entry without a last name, so he merely scribbled ‘Hyrule’ beside it in a few chicken-scratch letters. “Cool. And what’s your backup name?”

There was a pregnant pause. Then, with a fair bit more conviction, he spoke: “Hyrule.”

Okay. Wild–Link, or was ‘Wild’ simply who he was now??–could deal with that. He checked his list once more. There were two Links still unaccounted for, but he had a pretty good feeling about the situation when a beat-up grey Volkswagen Jetta swerved onto the dusty road, tires screeching across the pavement as the driver expertly barreled towards their gathering of insanity.

All eyes were on the Jetta as it pulled behind Lofty’s beetle,

The first thing Wild noticed about this new Link was that he was short as hell. Not just a bit smaller than average, because he technically was too, but when even the literal fourteen-year-old had height on what Link—Wild???—assumed to be a man in his twenties, if his profile was to be believed, it wasn’t hard to notice. Stick-straight blonde hair framed his face, held up by a vibrant green bandana that somehow managed to avoid clashing with the bloody crimson of his sweatshirt and equally obnoxious violet boots. In the background, ‘Cap’ shuddered. Clearly, this was an extreme case of blue-collar wardrobe blindness, but that was neither here nor there. Wild rather thought the crimson was a fantastic idea on the off-chance that large quantities of blood were spilled in their zeal for autonomy.

All eyes continued to watch as the newcomer bent to rummage in the center council for what appeared to be his phone. When he straightened, the device was tapped several times and the sound of a picture being taken could be heard, likely in case some grievous medical emergency occurred. Obviously, this Link had his shit together and Wild should thus ignore the fact that he was also carrying a mechanic’s wrench the size of Ordon’s forearm, As a treat.

Link—Wild????—brandished his clipboard as their latest victim approached. “Are you—?”

“Link Smith,” said Shorty without missing a beat. He shoved his phone in the back pocket of his surprisingly-normal jeans, and propped the wrench onto his shoulder in a move that should not have been as cool as it was.

“...And back up name—?”

“Four.”

There was a stunned silence. Cap’s eye twitched.

“You know we’re betting on legal names, right?”

Link Smith, or ‘Four’, as Wild was realizing he’d have to call the guy now, remained completely unfazed. “I’m aware.”

There was a cough from Hyrule. “...Divergent?”

The tips of Four’s ears colored a light pink. He gave his own cough, and waved the wrench in a dismissive arc that nearly took Ordon’s kneecap off. “Perish the thought.”

But Curly Link was not to be deterred. “No, no, I actually really like the book–”

“You can read?” Wild blurted.

“—and— hey! That’s rude!”

“Says the guy who brought a flamethrower to a fight,” Sailor chimed in. He eyed Wild penetratingly. “And you don’t have to know how to read to enjoy books.”

Wild let his hand extend in the direction of the teenager-turned-only-adult-in-the-group-besides-Lon-Lon. “Link— Sailor— Buddy— I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this…”

Sailor’s face immediately twisted in displeasure, hands raised as he backed away. “No thank you! I’m fourteen, not four!” he then paused, caught Four’s eye, and coughed. “Not you. You’re cool.”

“I know,” said Four in the mildest tone Wild had heard from someone so tiny.

Ordon cleared his throat. “Ah hate ta interrupt, but ah’ve got a bull rifle out back an’ it seems like we’re goin’ for fists here.”

Wild took a cursory glance at the Kentuckian’s motorcycle. Sure enough, there was a large elephant rifle strapped to the side of the vehicle. Was that legal? Did he care? “Actually, my girlfriend suggested pool noodles, but we can totally do that too if you’re willing to have an armed battery charge on your record.”

Zelda had not, in fact, suggested pool noodles. But what Zelda wouldn’t know wouldn't hurt her.

A beat passed.

“Let’s make this quick,” said the tallest of them. Link wanted to call him “Shut-eye” on account of his, well, visibly shut right eye, but that seemed a bit mean considering the poor man would be forced to change his legal name in a few short minutes. “My wife expects me home by sundown.”

“It’s noon,” deadpanned Link. Liar, it was 12:13 pm, but who was counting?

The crack of knuckles rang through the air. “Exactly.”

Part two anyone?

#how the chain actually got their nicknames #lu time #lu twilight #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu sky #lu four #lu wild #lu fic

95 notes · View notes

britcision · 11 hours ago

Text

Okay no one asked for this but you activated my brain and now we all suffer for it (I love you OP you’re so right yesyesyes)

Because for a lot of fairy tales, this is 10000% correct and a very interesting take and lots of fun

However… “fairy tale” is an extremely widely spanning genre, and tends to involve pretty much all of what I tend to call “Stories To Children”

Note: not “children’s stories”. There’s a lot of children’s stories for all sorts of reasons

But “Stories To Children” are the ones that get told to specifically instil cultural values, like obedience, kindness to others, respect for authority

Or they’re the gentle warnings to scare children away from dangerous spaces - don’t go into the woods alone, or the big bad wolf will eat you up

And the fairy tales OP is talking about are usually the cultural values ones, because they’re right - the whole point is that Even Unremarkable You Can Do Great Things If You Behave Well

They’re about people without very special talents who succeed because they practice their cultural values, like listening to their elders instead of forging ahead to do their own thing, or being kind when there is no obvious benefit

And the really interesting thing there is that the various people that help them on their way and do most of the work are often barely mentioned in the story! Despite being so much more potentially interesting!

The magic fish that grants three wishes to the fisherman who throws it back; how did it get that power? How often is this fish being scooped?

They rarely even get names within the story… and this is especially true of archetypes like The Handsome Prince. We call them Prince Charming, because none of them usually have an actual name

They’re very clearly barely relevant to the story at all, and are essentially there to do a deus ex machina and tidy things up neatly for our main characters at the end

We see a LOT of modern media where a female character is reduced to little more than a reward for our male protagonist at the end; enough to be sick of it

But that’s exactly what Prince Charming is. He’s not the hero of the story, even if the hero also doesn’t have a name

(Stories following the Third Son trope, or that are about the prince themself, are usually not Handsome Prince archetypes: they have at least a little personality)

Prince Charming is the hero’s reward for being an ideal woman (usually); she gets the “good ending”, being taken away by a respected and powerful man to become his beloved queen and live a (presumed) life of luxury

That is how the story appreciates her good qualities - she gets a husband who respects her deeply and often verbally admires her, because single women have historically not been considered successful

(“Who will take care of you when you are old” is another solid refrain)

BUT. Here’s the thing. You can usually look at the protagonist to determine what children are the intended audience

Stories about the handsome prince are to teach little boys how to behave. Stories about the beautiful princess are to teach little girls how to behave

And sure, everyone can learn from every story, and in quite a lot of them the gender of the protagonist is as irrelevant as their name (most of them don’t have names in older versions)

But the stories people tend to target for these kinds of feminist retellings do tend to have the same cultural message for good behaviour that a woman should fall into:

1) be kind (usually standard)

2) be pretty

3) be unconscious/trapped

Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, etc. all follow the model; our titular characters are indisputably the heroes. The story is about them. Does the prince even have a name?

And we can all agree, those last two messages ain’t shit

(No one ever seems to do the “feminist retelling” for stories like the Seven Dancing Princesses, where the youngest princess saves the day with her cunning and quick wits, despite the ending still being “and they all got married and lived happily ever after”)

So if you wanted to do a feminist retelling, but keep to the structure of the fairy tale, the thing to change isn’t the prince! It isn’t even to just flip it so that the princess rescues him

The thing to change is our assumed values for a good woman

Sleeping Beauty can still fall under the curse from a spinning wheel! But maybe instead of her father hiding all spinning wheels in the kingdom, he and her mother tell her the prophecy

And then we can go interesting places like “what does the bad fairy do when she feels her curse is being thwarted?”

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is wise and has her parents seek out a potential “saviour” early on; perhaps the love of a sibling will count as a true love, and a younger or older sibling is sent to another land so they won’t be caught in the curse and can save the day

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is prudent, and realizes that the bad fairy’s wrath is too dangerous for her future subjects to face, and instead asks to be sequestered away where her “whole kingdom” is a clearing in the woods, and her curse will not harm them (and they can come save her right away)

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is mischievous, and sneaks into the bad fairy’s lair so that when she pricks her finger, the bad fairy also falls asleep

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is cunning, and runs away to live with the bad fairy and work for her, because “what you wanted was for my parents to be sad about losing me, so this seems more sensible”

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is kind, and goes to warn each and every creature and person in her land of the danger, and asks if they know a way to protect themselves (not her) from such a curse

Perhaps at the end of her journey she meets a lonely and crabby old hermit in the woods, who is impressed that she has no fear for herself; her only concern is what effects the curse will have on those around her

Perhaps that crabby old hermit is the bad fairy in disguise, perhaps another powerful being, who can help to mitigate the curse

Perhaps the kiss that wakes her comes not from a lover, or a sibling, but from a foster parent, a bad fairy that has realized their folly in cursing an innocent child they have come to know, and sincerely regret having cursed at all

And, y’know, we drop the obligatory marriage bit at the end, but if you want a love story you can still have one! From a true love who admires her bravery, her wisdom, her compassion, not her pretty face

Sleeping Beauty can still be put to sleep (because the story is about Sometimes Bad Things Happen Beyond Our Control And If You Worry Too Much It Only Gets Worse)

But when she wakes up, she is woken because of who she is and the actions she took that persuaded others to help her and care for her

Because she is loved by someone, or by many someones, who don’t want to marry her

Because she put others first, because she was kind, because she was wise, because she was cunning

She doesn’t need to save herself to be worth saving

Those "modern fairy tales where the princess saves herself" types of books not only misrepresent the gender roles in fairy tales (there are tons of stories where girls get to save the day), but they fundamentally misunderstand the entire genre.

Fairy tales aren't about saving yourself.

These aren't epic myths or heroic legends about the great warriors who slay every monster in their path because they're so awesome. Fairy tales are almost always about ordinary, even incompetent, people who get thrown into strange situations where they only succeed because of the help of others.

It's not a gendered thing. The boy who goes off to seek his fortune is usually the dim-witted third son whose older brothers are the strong, smart ones. The third son succeeds because he is kind to the magical helpers who then complete the tasks for him--and the exact same thing happens when a girl is the main character.

The characters in a fairy tale rarely succeed because they embrace their own strength and take their own path. Much more often, they are told step-by-step what to do, and they succeed because they obey--respecting the wisdom of others.

The core virtue of a fairy tale is not pride, but humility. It's not a story about the strong, but those who are weak, small, helpless. The people who can't do it all on their own, but can recognize the worth and wisdom of others.

Turning this story into a "girl power" (or even a "boy power") story warps it into something that is fundamentally the opposite of a fairy tale, and it has nothing to do with the gender of the main character.

#fairy tales #cultural values #independence is not in fact the only one that matters

825 notes · View notes

aboutchriss · 2 days ago

Text

NEW YEARS EVE

Pairing: BangChan X fem! Reader

Genre: ex to ???, smut i think

warnings: make out session, mention of: oral sex (f receiving), p in v, no protection (WEAR THEM!!!), creampie. let me know if I missed something.

Author note: You can clearly tell that this has been in my draft for a long time, I'm sorry!! I'm trying to get rid of all the drafts because I'm planning on writing a whole series 👀, I'll write and correct all the draft that i have and then I'll start writing the big project, meanwhile i'm dealing with some physical health problems (nothing to worry about), uni (i have nine exams to do), and my uni internship...so be patient...I love you...see ya🤠

💌 Remember! English it's not my first language, please be gentle with me! let me know if there's any mistake(s) 💌

"Let's raise a toast to the new year. In a couple of hours, a new year will begin. I hope you'll have the best new year ever, full of adventures, new friends, love, and a lot of sex—Chan glances at you. Let's eat and drink and...PARTY LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW!"

"Cheers!"

Your whole group of friends says together glasses of prosecco are all around the table, except for Mimi (just because she's pregnant). you sit next to her, looking at her belly

"Can I?" you ask before touching her belly, caressing it gently.

"What are you wishing for?" She asks, it's an inside joke, both of you believe that if you rub the belly it will bring good luck (it does!! Last time that you did it you passed the interview for your job).

"I need this to be over as soon as possible" you say touching her belly

"Liar" she says placing her hand on yours

"Why?"

"I saw how you looked at him" she says

"what? He looked at me first!" you say justifying yourself

"what's going on between you two?" she asks looking at you

"gurl..." you say

"GURL? you think I'm dumb?" she asks

"nono...it's just that...umh" you look down

"oh girl what did you do?" she looks at you

"ikissedhimlastmonthandnowicantstopthinkingaboutit"

"YOU WHAT?" she yells, the whole room looking at both of you

"Mimi..."

"y/n say it out loud...I dare you" she says

"I kissed him last month...or he kissed me...I don't know...and now I can't stop thinking about it...we met for a drink...because we're still friends even if we broke up...but umh...we got drunk and we ended up at his house... everything started in the Uber basically-"

"OKAY, slow down...I need something sweet to drink and some grapes"

You gather everything that the pregnant lady asked for, sit next to her, and start to tell her about what happened

“So it all started when I texted him, it’s not the first time that we've gone out after our break up, we're still friends so it's not that weird"

you show her the messages

"Okay, go on"

she says stuffing her mouth with grapes you sigh

I got ready, even if I was late I wanted to be cute, NOT for him, but because I wanted to feel good after a long day of work, so I curled my hair and put a cute sundress on -even if it was a night date- and well...I shaved...my legs were HAIRY OKAY? and I put on a cute set of underwear because even though I was with my ex I thought that maybe I could, you know, fuck a stranger a relief some stress.

"strike number one, you don't fuck strangers, you need some kind of bond with the person that you want to fuck or you just can't..do it" she says chewing on grapes

"I don't slap you just because you're pregnant"

"Whatever...keep going" she says moving her hands toward you

as always I was late, but of course, he didn't complain i got into the car, he said that I was beautiful and he had that look in his eyes

"what look?" she asks

"the look that a man has when he wants to eat you alive or kill you"

"oh

oh"

anyway, once we got to the bar he sits beside me and we start talking and shit, you know the usual, nothing more, nothing less.

After a couple of drinks a man, a hot one, approached me, he was talking about his work or something like that, I don't know I was drinking my second gin tonic, so at that point, I was tipsy...Chan was talking to a girl but when he saw that the hot dude hitting on me, he scared him away, after he stayed with me the whole night.

At three a.m or something he called an Uber, both of us were drunk as shit, and for some reason he only gave his address to the driver, during the ride he was still staring at me, with that look, the look that he had at the beginning of the night so I said

"the fuck you're looking at?"

and he said

"you"

nothing more, nothing less just 'you', at this point, he was getting closer, and his thigh was touching mine so I innocently placed a hand on it...and he said

"you're playing with fire, meatball"

"HE CALLED YOU MEATBALL?" Mimi yells

"shhhhhh, yes he did call me meatball"

"Isn't it the pet name that he used to call you when you were together?" you nod

"keep going this is getting interesting" she says sipping on her juice

"do you think that it's safe for the child hearing about her aunt fucking her ex?" you say censoring the swear word for the sake of the baby in the belly

"the 'ex' is her uncle, so yeah don't worry, I wanna hear the spicy details, keep going bestie"

"where was I?"

oh, yeah he said

"you're playing with fire meatball"

and I was too stunned to speak for the alcohol or maybe because I missed that pet name, anyway we stared at each other for I don't know how long, and eventually we made it to his place. his arm was on the small of my back, guiding me because I was stumbling, he guided me into the elevator and pressed the 10th-floor -which it's his floor- I was leaning against the wall of the elevator and he was in front of me and AGAIN he was staring at me, this time he was staring at my lips, and- and I was blocked between him and the wall and i...kissed him

"YOU KISSED HIM?" your best friend yells

"let me finish, it's only the beginning" you say

"Oh, what did you do?"

I was saying I kissed him and he fucking kissed me back and it was one of those kisses that makes you feel like you're in between hell and heaven, I felt alive again after months...he picked me up, and I locked my legs around his hips and I felt it

"GURL"

he walked out of the elevator while I was still between his arms and he never stopped kissing me, which by the way was heating minute after minute, he put the code on his door, got into his apartment, and pushed me against the door, it was a whole new experience because when we were together he never kissed me like that, he did but this time felt different. I started undoing...the button on his shirt and he gave me the 'this is wrong what are you doing?' look. We moved onto his couch, he was between my thighs, he took off his shirt and-

you cover your face feeling the heat on your cheeks with your hands

"y/n don't tell me that..." she says, you nod and she has the nerve to slap your arm

"bitch what the hell?" you say massaging your arm

"you fucked him" she said

you shrug "I think that we both needed it"

"and I need the details, you were to the point where he was taking off his shirt"

at this point, he was bare chest, and I was almost foaming from my mouth, he got bigger, and touching him was like...being home after a long time, his hands were working on the zip of my sundress, and at one point between a kiss and some shy laughs he took the dress off of me, and his jaw dropped because - I didn't mention earlier but- the set of underwear that I was wearing was his favorite

"you did it on purpose didn't you?" she asks eating the last grape of her little bowl

"I mean, it was just a pure coincidence -you get up grabbing another bowl of grapes- I promise I wasn't planning on fucking my ex!"

I asked

"Is this fine with you?"

He gave me a nod, grabbed me between his arms again, and walked towards his room, leaving our clothes behind, he laid me on his bed and the vanilla scent of his room made my brain short-circuit, or maybe my brain stop working because he was kissing my inner thigh and he knew what he was doing because receiving oral is my favorite thing ever, he started to...doing his job down there -he didn't even bother to take off the thong, he just put it to the side- and...he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life...maybe because of the built-up or I don't know maybe because it was him doing it...after that I kissed him.

"you kissed him after he ate you out?" she asks

"yeah? you don't do this kinda thing with Changbin?" you grab one of the grapes and put it in your mouth

"We never tried..."

"gurl you're pregnant" you point out

"I mean that we never asked each other if we're into kissing each other after heads...and don't try changing the topic...keep going"

he kissed me and for a moment I thought that was it, because he was laying with his head on my boobs, and my hand was between his curls and it felt so normal that I wanted to slap myself. At some point, I felt guilty because I knew that he was still hard...I was feeling it against my thighs so I said

"you're gonna get blue balls, let me help you"

I had the nerve to giggle, and we started to fight about his thing, I ended up being on top of him...he was still wearing his jeans, and he was so hard that I bet that it was hurting him so I took off his pants, and i-am...fucked him, slowly, like painfully, I felt out of shape, it felt like our first time...he sat up while he was still on me, took off my bra -that I was still wearing- and started to kiss my breasts, he was so gentle that I don't know, I had the feeling that he was scared to hurt me, he made us turn and he was on top, he sped up and asked.

"Are you still on the pill?" I nodded and he said

"use your words, baby, please I need to hear you say them"

"yes, I'm still...on the pill...you can...you can cum in me" he lost it, he started to thrust harder and at the end we both came but he came into me

"you're telling me that he-"

"yes"

"and that you-"

"yes"

"He has a breeding kink?" she asks

"I said yes Mimi"

"wow, I didn't expect this" she says

"yeah, I fucked up pretty well because after what we did I fell asleep in his arms, and we were naked, the morning after...we took a shower together and made breakfast for the both of us"

"WOW"

"Yeah..." you say

"Mimi..."

"AAAAH! CHAN WHAT THE FUCK YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME, YOU CAN'T SCARE A PREGNANT WOMAN, OH MY GOD I'M THROWING UP ALL THE GRAPES THAT I ATE"

you start to laugh

"I'm sorry -he gently rubs her belly- didn't want to scare my little niece"

"what do you want?" she asks

"her -he points at you- I wanna dance with her"

"ah take her, she's boring" she moves her hands

"Mimi, what the fuck?" she giggles and waves at you as he grabs your hands to guide you to the center of the room where other people are dancing

"what are you doing?" you ask as he pulls you against him to dance slowly

"I just wanted to...dance with you" he says putting his hand on the small of your back, maybe a little lower

"you wanted to dance with me? or...-you lower your voice- you wanted help with the thing between your legs?"

"well- i- you- i wanted- you..." he says blushing, even his ears getting pink

"you wanted help?" he nods shily

"care to explain why you're hard?" you whisper to his red ear

"your fault"

"my fault?"

"you have fucking thigh highs, heels, a skirt, and a shirt meatball, that's a combo killer to me and you know it" you laugh

"combo killer?" you ask

"I'm dying right here" he put his head on your shoulder, his breath against your neck

"ask it, Christopher, use your words"

"Can you help me? please" he says against your neck

"you're so desperate that you're begging?" he nods

"a quickie it's fine to you?" you ask

"fuck yes, but the high thighs and the heels stay on" he says grabbing your hand

"Is there a place where we can have some private time?" he asks

"Upstairs, just don't make it obvious" you say

"Okay" he says, he quickly lifts you on his shoulder and walks upstairs

"I said don't make it obvious" you laugh

"It wasn't that obvious"

"no?" you say

"then why did Mimi drop her grapes?"

"maybe our niece kicked her guts" he says putting you down, pushing against the closet door

"our?" you echo

"our niece, yeah. there's no way I'm letting you go after this and after last time" he says, his forehead against yours

"Chris?"

"yeah?"

"less talking" you kiss him

"yes ma'am" he says pushing you inside the closet

"we said a quickie, no more than 20 minutes"

"I think that I'll fuck you into the new year"

"what do you mean?" you ask

"3...2...1...happy new year meatball" he kisses your lips

"Happy New Year pretty boy" you kiss him back

#bang chan #skz #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #christopher bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan oneshot #chansshands thoughts

78 notes · View notes