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tl2so4 · 2 years ago

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This is an awesome account of the events that happened that day. It is written by Jeffery - the guy in the fur hat in the front row. Enjoy!

June, 1967

Through SF State College, which I am going to a few years out of the Navy using my GI Bill benefits, I get a summer job through school that has a hundred dollar a month expenses. I go down to the Psychedelic Shop on Haight Street, where a lot of community activities come from and offer them the money. Ron Thelin, who runs the store with his brother Jay, says yes, they can use the money to rent a flatbed truck (for a stage) and a generator (for the guitars) as there is a free concert in the Panhandle of Golden Gate Park on that coming Sunday, June 25, 1967 and asks me to show up for the meeting around 10am Sunday morning.

I wake up that morning in my 75 dollar a month houseboat at Gate 5, Main dock, make a cup of coffee and toast, jump into my car, then leave and drive up the Waldo Grade, go through the tunnel and blast out into brilliant sunlight, wondering now and then, who is going to be performing at this free concert as Jay had never said who it might be.

I glide over that gorgeous Golden Gate bridge, then take the 19th Avenue exit and wend my way to Fulton and finally park in front of the shop on Haight and go in.

There are 4 or 5 guys who are really putting this show together and the work has mostly been taken care of. I just stand quietly st the back of the room. Finally, Jay asks if anyone has a car. I leave my hand down but finally tell him that I do.

"Go down to the Travelodge at Fishermen's Wharf", he tells me, matter-of-factly, "knock on door 157 and bring Jimi Hendrix back to the site, parking on Fell near Ashbury".

I nod to him like I do this stuff every day, jump in my beat-up '59 Studebaker ragtop, pull out and head over. On the way, I think back to last week's Monterey Pop Festival, where a simple twist of fate played out big for me.

The morning of Monterey, my wife ran off with my last roommate in college. About a half hour later, sitting on the edge of the bed dejectedly, there is a knock on the door and my neighbor, Dan Hicks, wants to know if I want to make 20 bucks as he needs help humping music amps and guitars to the Festival. Twenty minutes later, we cross the Golden Gate Bridge and make our way to the Monterey Fairgrounds.

While humping a large amp, Dan on one end and me on the other, I notice something shiny on the ground and squat quickly down and stuff it into my jeans and proceed. We get all the equipment in and I get my 20 bucks and am now outside the gate. Don't know exactly what to do, but after pulling out the shiny object, it turns out to be a simple pin-back with a card that says BACKSTAGE PASS on it.

Things are looking up. The only SLIGHTLY bad thing is it also has someone else's name written on it as well. But, hell, what can they do to me and I am never averse to taking risks, so I pin it on and walk up to the hefty guard at the gate, who sees I have THE PASS and I am in!

I saw a lot of music that weekend, but Otis Redding's scintillating set on Saturday night, even sharing a joint with David Crosby, was a real peak event I have never forgotten. What a professional set he laid down. The best.

Then, Sunday, when I hear Jimi is about to perform, I go out in the left side of the stage and stand behind a curtain that is all there is between me and him and he totally blows us all away, then picks up a can of Ronson lighter fluid while he is down on his knees making love to his guitar during Wild Thing and his guitar is now flaming and then he breaks up that guitar and lobs pieces of it to audience members and leaves the stage.

Wow; Monterey Pop. But that was last week and now I am in the parking lot and I go up to the door and knock and, like in a dream, there is Jimi, who just picks up his guitar and gets in the back seat of my garbage car and off we go. Just being around him a few minutes and you know he is basically a shy cat and the only thing he mentions is how much he digs my Russian fur hat which is only a woman's fur piece I got at the Digger's Free Store on Cole St. just off Haight a few weeks back and made into a hat. I try to give it to him but he declines saying it wouldn't fit over his hair and I am very happy as it looks so good on me.

We pull up, he gets out and wanders over to the stage while I roll up a quick joint and take five fast puffs, laughing as I can't see anything in my smoky car. I don't want to miss a beat, but decide that since I drove him there, I am going to get up close and observe. As you can see, I kind of got the best seat in the house even if I am standing, Notice I am holding his microphone cable. And smiling big. Why not? Ringside with the most amazing guitar player. Ever. I don't even notice Jim Marshall, SF's iconic rock photographer, snapping photos.

This was on Sunday, June 25, 1967 and I went on with my life which took me to Woodstock and driving a big Hog Farm hippie bus for a few years across America and then I got to Europe and hired on as a driver for a British hippie bus taking 25 paying passengers (75 dollars one-way) from Amsterdam to Afghanistan and spent five years doing that including the beaches of Goa, India and trekking in the Himalayas of Nepal and I was pretty busy and never once told that Jimi story to anyone at any time. It was just this serendipitous, precious moment in my life.

But then, I went over to my friend Wrinkle's one day in 1988 but he was out, so I was sitting with his then 18 year old son Austin and thinking of having a conversation and he was the drummer in a garage band, so out comes that story of Jimi and me. Of course, he didn't believe me but was too kind to say so. I went home afterwards and a few days later, I get a call from his dad and he says "Hey, I am looking at a picture of you and Jimi Hendrix. Now it's my turn to not believe him, but I go over and...

So Austin has this pal Jameson Grant and Jameson's parents went to live in Iowa for a couple of years, his junior and senior year in high school. One day, he is thumbing through a guitar magazine and there is a full page photo of Jimi Hendrix and me, but he doesn't know me then, but he really likes this picture and asks his pal if he can have it and his friend says buy me a hamburger and it's yours! But, when he goes back to California, he takes it with him and one day his friend Austin comes over and tells him the tall tail he thinks I told him and Jameson says Well, I have a picture of Jimi Hendrix in San Francisco in my suitcase and shows it to Austin who freaks out saying I thought Jeff was BSing me but THAT'S HIM. Jim Marshall took the photo and I now have seen it in a Rolling Stone and seen it many other places, showing Jimi Hendrix and me, smack dab in the middle of the Summer of Love and it doesn't get much better than that."

Jeffrey

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Last edited: Feb 14, 2021

#jimi hendrix

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lokis-army-77 · 3 years ago

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If You Please

Chapter Sixteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4790

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Alcohol, abuse, angst I think.

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We had been living in Romania for two months since that first night, and it wasn't easy, especially for Bucky. The nightmares still plagued him and in the hopes of warding them off, he would stay up days on end, only to crash out in the quiet dark hours of the night. I would always wake up when he started to thrash about and shout, always ready to comfort him. I wish I could say they are getting better but that would be a lie.

I had finally gotten the mattress cleaned a few weeks into our stay and tried to get Bucky's to sleep on it, instead of the hard floor, but he refused, only giving a curt response saying that he brought it for me. If I fell asleep anywhere other than on that mattress, I would wake up on it later on.

Bucky wouldn’t stay away for as long now, only choosing to leave the apartment when we needed food or other necessities. I saw this as him building trust with me, which I was glad to have. He even started to ask me questions, writing everything I would tell him down into the small notebook I gave him a few weeks back. I knew writing things helped when Steve and I came out of the ice so I thought that it may help him to uncover some of his memories. From the questions he would ask me and the short stories he would sporadically recall, I knew something had to be working.

Today had been like any other day, we both went out to gather some things that we might need and then quickly made our way back to the apartment. I was lounging out on the raggedy loveseat we had brought back about three weeks ago, reading a book when my attention was pulled away from it by the sound of my name.

“Uh-huh?” I confirmed while flipping the page.

“Can you come here for a second?”

And that's when it clicked, Bucky said my name. “Wait a second, you just said my name,” I observed astonished, slamming the book closed and looking at him.

“I know, I need you to come here” he replied back, turning his body in the dining chair to look at me in annoyance.

“No, hang on. You’ve been calling me ‘hey’ for the past two months.” The only time he called me by my name was when he was deep in a nightmare, he never consciously said it.

“I-” he stopped to think. “I think I just remembered it, it just came out.”

“That's great, Buck. It’ll take a little time but I know soon you’ll be remembering things that I can't even recall.” He gave a faint smile at that. “Now what is it that you needed?”

“Uh.. never mind, I think I’ll ask you about it later.” He said, withdrawing back into his shell somewhat.

“Are you sure?” I asked. He didn’t answer, just turned back to scribble in his notebook. I gave him a soft look before opening my book back up and continued to read.

Later on that same week I was humming a song while cooking some eggs and bacon on the stove. Bucky was still somewhat peacefully asleep on his floor pallet. Carefully I grabbed the bright green spatula on my right and scooped up the crispy bacon from the pan to place it on two plates. After dumping most of the grease out I turned the heat to low and cracked a few eggs into the pan, scrambling them as soon as they started to turn white. Thankfully they didn’t take that long and I was able to scoop them up and plate them in just over a minute. I wiped my hands off on the small towel on the counter. Picking up both plates and their silverware, I quietly made my way to where Bucky was sleeping and knelt down. I sat the plate in my left hand on the floor beside his head and he slowly opened his eyes. Groaning, he lifted the heels of his palms to rub the sleep from them.

“Good morning Buck, I made your favorite.” I waited for him to sit up before handing him the plate in my right hand.

“What was that song you were humming earlier? It sounded familiar,” he said as he carefully took the plate of food. I grabbed mine off the floor and maneuvered myself so I was sitting on the ground beside him.

“It was ‘If You Please’, a Bing Crosby song. We used to dance to it during the war.” I watched him as he nodded while also shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“Oh,” he looked at his now empty fork, “I don’t remember how to dance.

An idea came to me as I picked up a piece of bacon. “What if, after we eat breakfast, I show you.” Then I bit into the piece of bacon, chewing as he looked at me with wide eyes, almost as if he thought I were being crazy.

“But-” He started.

“No buts, I think this will be good, it may help you remember if you can do something that you used to do, maybe it will help to jog your memory,” I said as I started on my eggs.

“Okay.” he let out, sounding very unsure.

After we had eaten and the dishes had been stacked into the sink, we both worked on moving the mattress and his cot out of the middle of the floor. When the floor was clear of anything that we could somehow trip over I dragged him into the middle and placed my hands onto his shoulders.

“Okay, now you put your hands on my waist,” I instructed. He hesitantly placed his hands a little high on my hips, I smiled at him before moving my hands down to correct his placement. “Let's move them down a little. There,” I said, as I brought my hands back up to his shoulders.

“Um, now what?” He questioned, looking everywhere but at me. I could see a tinge of pink rising to his cheeks.

“Now, I’ll sing the song and lead the dance, you just follow my movements,” I told him softly before straightening my back and hooking my arms around his neck. I then began to quietly sing the words to the song, humming at the parts where words were not needed.

The dance started off slow as Bucky looked at both of our feet and copied each step that I took. He took small unconfident steps, but he was still as graceful as he was in the past. Looking up at his face I noticed how concentrated he was. His brow was pulled in tight, looking almost like he was angry, and the very tip of his tongue was visible through his lips as he bit down on it.

We danced until I was finished with the song, but Bucky kept going. I felt the shift of when he took control of the dance and I was no longer leading him. His left hand removed itself from my waist and up to grab my right one from around his neck. His right hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. My heart sped up a little at this, we haven't been this close in years and it almost felt like the forest time we went dancing together.

I started to hum another slow song as Bucky led me around the living room, through a series of spins. At some point, my head came to rest on his chest while my left arm wrapped itself under his as we held each other close. His chin was barely resting on the top of my head.

“Thank you.” I heard him barely whisper. I faltered in my steps and hummed, but he kept me from tripping.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Just- thank you for helping me remember some of the good things.” he choked out. “This,” he moves his head to reference what we were doing, “this has helped. I don’t remember it all, but flashes of us dancing are coming to mind. There’s someone with you in a stunning blue dress in a bar somewhere, I think it’s in London, I could be remembering wrong.”

I smiled widely, knowing exactly what he was remembering. “You're right, it was London. That was right after we found you-” I trailed off, realizing that if I said more about finding him in the HYDRA base it might ruin the moment.

The dancing slowed until we were just standing in the middle of the room completely still. Bucky coughed awkwardly and then let me go before walking over to the dining table and snatching up his backpack. “I’m- I’m uh going- out. I’ll be back in a while.” He let out before quickly rushing to the front door and down the stairs. I watched after him with a woeful look.

It had been almost six hours since Bucky had left and the apartment was getting more boring by the minute. I had already put the mattress and Bucky’s pallet back in their spots, I had cleaned and even showered. When I realized he wasn’t going to be home any time soon, I decided to go on a run. Something I hadn’t done in a while.

Bucky and I had decided that until the news of what had happened with SHIELD and the fact that all of their secrets were out in the open, including ones that had both of us included in them, died down, we probably both shouldn't leave the apartment at the same time. That way it would be less likely for us to be spotted.

It had only been two months but it had been a while since I had seen any news or heard any talk of us or the events in January. So I quickly got dressed in some warm running clothes and a blue beanie to keep my hair hidden, in hopes that it would help keep people from recognizing me.

Then I was off, bounding down the several flights of stairs and out the side door of the very old apartment building. It was almost one-thirty and the streets were busy, so I wasn’t able to go at full sprint. But the average run was wonderful. The cool air hitting my face was just what I had needed after being cooped up all day.

I had only been running for maybe twenty or thirty minutes when I started to feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to stand and goosebumps started to cover my arms. Nothing ever crossed my mind other than it being super cold out, so I paid no attention to it. Running some more I came to a long dark alleyway between several tall buildings. Right as I turned off of the sidewalk and into the alley I felt something grab my hand.

I turned in surprise, swinging my free arm to try and take out whoever had placed their hands on me. The attempted punch was futile as that hand was caught by a large gray metal hand. Looking up at the person, I recognized Bucky. His hood was up over his ball cap and his hair was dangling in his face.

“Oh, it's just you,” I let out a sigh of relief. I tried to take my hands out of his grasp but he only held on tighter.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he almost yelled.

“I went on a run because I was bored and alone.”

“We agreed to not go out at the same time.” He was looking at me furiously and I swore if he were any madder, smoke would be billowing from his ears.

“I’m sorry but you have been gone for six hours.”

“I came back and you weren't there. I looked everywhere and then I spotted you, running.” He softened for a second.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t leaving you. I just needed to get out of there for a while. I was being careful, nothing would have happened.” I smiled up at him, but it quickly fell when turned away from me quickly.

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT,” he bellowed out, slamming his metal hand into the bricks right next to us. I flinched at that as old memories flashed behind my eyes. “You don’t know that,” he said more calmly. He reached out for my hand and started to lead me back to the apartment. “Come on, let's get off the street.” I just followed him silently.

After getting back to the apartment, I went straight into the bathroom without a word and started running the water for a shower. When the water was scalding hot I took my clothes off and stepped in. The water hit my chest and neck before I turned around to wet my hair. I stood under the running water for what felt like forever before I felt my eyes start to burn and tears started to spring out and mix with the shower water.

I hated how I felt at the moment like I was back to being the helpless little kid that I used to be. Huddled under the dining room table, clinging onto Steve as I cried. I hadn’t had the slightest relapse in years and just the way that Bucky had yelled and slammed into the wall had flung back to when I was five.

I slowly washed myself off and continued to let the water rush over me until it began to run cold. When I finally got the tears to stop flowing, I turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing one of the towels off of the rack and drying off. I dressed in a sweater and a pair of sweatpants I had grabbed before coming into the bathroom. After that, I wrapped the towel I had used around my wet hair and then stepped out into the cold air of the living area.

I slowly padded my way to the fridge, I paid no mind to Bucky, who was sitting across the love seat. Opening the fridge door I rummaged through what we had before settling on grabbing the milk container. I sat it on the counter beside me as I reached above me to grab the box of half-empty cereal from the top of the fridge. Then I went over to the sink to wash one of the two bowls we had before making my dinner.

When I had finally finished making my bowl of cereal, I noticed it getting darker, which made me realize the earlier event had drained me more than I thought.

Settling down into the mattress, I laid on my side and gathered the extra length of the blanket into my arms. Bucky was fast asleep behind me on his pallet and pretty soon I fell asleep as well.

I opened my eyes to the sun shining straight into them. I could hear loud banging noises coming through the door of the tiny room I was in. I realized quickly that it was my childhood room back in New York. Steadily I flung the covers off of me and slid myself off the bed and onto the ground. Looking over at the mirror next to the bed I noticed I was a child again, I paid it no mind as I fixed my nightgown before walking to the door of my room. Gently I reached up to grab hold of the knob and twisted. As soon as the door was open, the banging sounds became louder. Sticking my head out into the hall I looked down to the kitchen where the noise was coming from before completely stepping out of my room.

Tentatively I walked down the hall to the barely closed kitchen door. Before I could place my hand on the door to push it open, Steve stopped me. He bent down to my height and looked me in the eyes, shaking his head. I didn’t really understand what he was trying to convey so I rushed forward past him and into the kitchen, only to stop short. There, laid out in the middle of the kitchen floor was our mother with blood dripping down her face onto the wooden floor. Father stood over her with a bottle in one hand and blood covering his other fist. My heart pounded as I ran to my mother's side, crying loudly. As I came to her side I felt a large hand snatch my upper arm and a second later I was flying into one of the kitchen chairs. The tears came faster after that. They blurred my vision so much that I hadn't noticed Steve coming into the kitchen as well until he was helping me sit up.

“Shh, it’s okay, let's hurry and get back to bed.” He tried lifting me to my feet, but I fought.

“Mommy,” I cried. Escaping from Steve's hold I crawled my way back to her. And that's when I felt the hand slapping my face.

“Oh stop crying. You aren’t a baby.” I heard my father say as I brought my hands up to cup the side of my face and just cried more. He didn’t like this so in a fit of anger he threw his beer bottle across the room and into the wall. It shattered into hundreds of tiny brown glass pieces. Then he took his belt off and wrapped the buckled end of it around his hand and then headed straight for me. I blurted out of his way when he took his first steps towards me, but soon I was backed up into a corner. “Come here, so I can give you a whooping for not listing.”

“No Daddy please.” I cried harder as he came closer. That’s when Steve ran in between us.

“Dad stop, she's only five.”

“You get out of the way Steve or I’ll give you one too.” He took another step forward but Steve stood still. Through my tears, I could see Father's eyes becoming darker with anger at each passing second. When Steve still didn’t move out of his way after the next few steps, he started swinging the belt, catching Steve violently on the left cheek then back again across his right arm and around to his back. The force of the blow knocked him away just long enough for Father to reach me in the corner and take me up and start walking. The pain I felt all around my body from the sting of the belt was excruciating. I cried even more which in turn made Father angrier.

I let out a relieved sob when Mother grabbed hold of the hand that was wielding the belt, halting the onslaught of whips.

“Joseph, stop it, please. They’re both just children, leave them out of this.” she pleaded with him, which only made him turn back to beating her. I ran to hide under the table, soon after that Steve came to hide with me. I calmed my tears but I was left numb, the only thing I could hear were the sounds of Father hurting Mother. And then finally they stopped. Slowly crawling out from under the table we were met with the swollen, bloodied face of our Mother and Father was nowhere to be found.

“It’s okay children, he’s gone to bed now,” she said calmly as I made my way into her lap.

“Mom, why did you get back up?” I heard Steve ask shakily.

“Because, and both of you listen well because you always get back up. No matter how much it hurts, you stand up. Stand up for yourself, for those weaker and even stronger than you, and for each other.” She said as she gently rubbed my back.

I woke up with a start after that. Chest heaving for air, sweat covering every inch of my body, despite the room being freezing cold. There was shuffling behind me and then something cold was placed on my shoulder, I flinched away from it and turned around quickly, fear clouding my vision. I relaxed when I noticed that it was only Bucky. Letting out a shaky breath I let the dam of tears break away.

Bucky hesitantly scooted closer to where I was sitting and gently, but hesitantly, placed both his hands on the upper part of my arms and rubbed up and down.

“Are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep and then you just shot up out of nowhere,” he asked, concern dripping from his words.

“I’m okay now,” I replied shakily. “It was just a bad dream.”

“Do you- do you want to talk about it?”

I nodded slightly, knowing it would be best to get it off my chest than to keep what had happened bottled up. So for the next little while, I related to Bucky what had happened in my dream and told him bits and pieces of the abuse that had happened in my childhood before my father passed away in nineteen twenty-six.

“I’ve been in violent situations before and was fine, like in the world war, but when you slammed your hand into the wall today it triggered something in me that hadn't been triggered in a very long time,” I said, wiping the now drying tears from my cheeks. After the words left my mouth I felt Bucky slowly remove himself from his spot on my mattress and back onto the floor. “Thanks for listening, we should go back to bed now,” I yawned.

“Good night.” He whispered.

I reached down my bed to grab at the covers that were bunched up on the floor. Dragging them up, I laid back down as I covered myself with them. “Good night,” I whispered back to him. I closed my eyes, but I never did go back to sleep.

Over the next few days, after I had had the nightmare, I saw Bucky less and less. He would avoid me all day, the only time he was ever really directly next to me was when we would lay down for bed. I honestly had no clue as to why he was so diligently keeping me at a distance, but it was starting to worry me a bit. We had worked so hard to get to the place we were and now it was falling away.

He had left early in the morning like he had been but when he came home I had made a peace offering of sorts, hoping that food would be the way to stop avoiding me. I had spent quite a while flipping through a Romanian cookbook trying to figure out what I was going to make for dinner before settling on creamed chicken, which looked a lot more appetizing than it sounded.

I gathered all the ingredients I would need and then got to work. While the oven was preheating I chopped all the vegetables and placed them in a large dutch oven along with the chicken. After that I covered it with the lid and placed it in the bottom rack of the oven, I left it there for an hour.

While the vegetables and chicken were cooking slowly, I pan-cooked the mushrooms I had chopped earlier until they were nice and browned. This didn’t take long so when I had finished with the mushrooms, I sat down to read while I waited on the food in the oven to finish.

After the hour was up I took the chicken and vegetables out of the oven and poured a mixture of two cups of cream and a few tablespoons of flowers into the pot, along with the mushrooms from before and a tablespoon of paprika. I mixed it up a little with my wooden spoon to make sure everything was well incorporated, then I stuck the lid back on and placed the pot back in the oven for another thirty minutes.

When the thirty minutes were up, I took the food out of the coven and turned it off. I spooned some of the chicken and creamy broth into two separate bowls just as Buckey walked through the door. I looked up and smiled at him as he sat his backpack down on the dining table.

“Hey, I’m glad you got here when you did. I just finished making dinner, but I’ll only let you have it if you promise to tell me why you keep avoiding me.” I said jokingly as I walked to place our bowls down on the table. He just looked at me then turned, heading into the bathroom.

Seconds later I heard the shower turn on and I let out a huff. I sat down and ate my serving of food while I waited on him to finish up in the bathroom. It felt like hours before he finally opened the door. I abruptly stood up from my spot on the dining chair, determined to get some sort of answer from him.

“Bucky, why do you keep avoiding me?” My question was met with silence as he strode his way to his pallet and laid down like he was going to bed, even though it wasn’t even seven yet. “Bucky, please answer me. It’s been almost a week”. I paced my way to stand directly behind him, he turned his back to me. I bent down and slowly placed my hand on his arm. He jerked it away from me and scooted away.

“Don’t touch me.” He let out in almost a warning tone.

“Okay, I won’t, but I just want to know why you’re ignoring my existence completely.” I backed away from him. “I deserve even the smallest of explanations.” But still, nothing came. I stood up then and went back to the table to pick up my empty bowl and his full one and headed over to the kitchen. I dumped the contents of Bucky's bowl back into the pot and then covered the lid so I could place it in the fridge to eat later.

“Dinner’s in the fridge whenever you decide you want some.” I paused for a second, “Can you at least say something?”

He let out an exasperated breath, shooting up to look at me. “Fine you want to know why I’m avoiding you, then here it is. You shouldn’t have followed me here. I’m dangerous, I could hurt you or anyone else for that matter. The other day was testament enough of that. So just stay away from me.”

I stood there silently, a little confused by his words. “Bucky you could never hurt me, I know you wouldn’t.”

“Maybe not knowingly, but I could. Like you said, I scared you the other day, made you remember things your father did. It wasn’t physical but I still hurt you.”

“So that's why you were avoiding me? Because you thought that I was scared of you? Bucky I would never be scared of you, you’ve never given me a reason to be. All I said was that it triggered something, I was caught off guard. Someone else could have easily been the one to trigger it instead of you.” I said as I made my way back over to him.

“You don’t know that. You don't know that I wouldn’t hurt you.” He said shakily.

“Yes I do, Buck. I know you wouldn't, because two months ago when you were the Winter Soldier, you had plenty of chances to finish me off, to hurt me, and you didn’t. I know you, and I know you would never seriously hurt me. There is some part of your past still alive in you that's why you’re afraid you’ll hurt me now and that's why you wouldn't hurt me then.” I assured him as I tentatively placed my hand on his and gripped it tight. “I trust you Bucky, whether you trust yourself or not.”

His head bent down to look at our hands and then he looked back at me, his lips twitching into an almost unnoticeable smile. I felt him grip my hand tightly before letting it go. “I think I’ll take some of that chicken now,” he said as he heaved himself up off the floor.

I backed away up onto the loveseat behind me in order to let him pass by me. I said nothing as I picked up my book from the cushion beside me and started to read where I had left off earlier in the day.

Authors note: If you are confused, Steve's father was an abuser in the comics so that's what's going on. I don't think he was one in the MCU, but the MCU version died in WW1 right after Steve was born, so I added the comic version to fit in with the timeline of Reader's birth and some other plot stuff for this chapter.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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texanstarslove · 4 years ago

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Something Different-Part 2

A/N: Here it is y’all. 2.6k worth of more Sidney Crosby smut. Thank y’all for being patient as I worked to get this one out. I hope y’all enjoy!

Part 1

Warnings: Language, smut, a hint of a choking kink if you squint, unprotected sex (again, these two are in an established, committed relationship...wrap it up peeps!).

Your day had started as it did with most every morning, lazy cuddles with Sidney and coffee in bed. Having the hockey season on hold meant so much more quality time together at home, you didn’t know what you would do when normalcy returned. The two of had spent the majority of the pause at his home back in Nova Scotia. This place had become your second home outside of Pittsburgh and you were pretty sure you’d never want to leave once the season started back up.

The intimacy in your relationship had grown tenfold and you were thankful for it. Spending so much time together had brought the two of you so much closer. The sudden change in routine had been quite the shock to Sidney at first, him not knowing what to do with himself for the first few weeks. As time progressed, and you both settled into the new normal, he relaxed a bit more and began to treat it as a mid season vacation.

Eventually, the time came for the two of you to actually get up and be productive. You both begrudgingly got out of bed, Sidney helping you pull the sheets and blankets back up the bed. “I have that conference call here in a little bit,” he said, putting the pillows in their place, “We have the whole day after I’m done.”

“That’s fine,” You replied, giving him a quick kiss as you walked past to your closet. “I can go for my run while you do that.”

You finished getting dressed, throwing on your workout clothes and running shoes before heading downstairs. Sidney was already getting set up in his office when you walked by. He called out to you causing you to backtrack, poking your head into the office.

“Forgetting something?” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at him in jest. You walked to where he was situated at his desk, bending down slightly to give him a kiss.

“There, needy.” You teased, “Can I go now?”

His eyes trailed over your body and he hummed in appreciation. “I suppose.”

As you turned to make your way out, you felt a playful smack on your ass. You looked back at him and smirked. “Don’t start something you can’t finish yet, baby.”

“Can’t help it,” He grinned, leaning back in the office chair he was sitting in. “Those shorts make your ass look really good.”

“I’m leaving now.” You laughed, finally leaving for your morning run. As much as you both would have liked to skip over your prearranged plans, you knew waiting until later and building anticipation wouldn’t hurt in the slightest.

The route you normally take for your run usually took you about 30 minutes. You decided to take a more leisurely pace, knowing the conference calls Sidney took normally lasted at least an hour if not longer. With the extra time to kill, you thought enjoying the nice weather and beautiful surroundings sounded like a good way to do just that. When you finally made your way back to the house, you had been gone just under an hour. You could still here voices coming from the office as you slipped off your shoes and socks, the conference call still going. You made your way into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water before walking back to the office and quietly sitting on the love seat across from where Sidney was sitting at the computer. He gave you a smile, acknowledging you before turning his attention back to the call.

Your smile turned into a sly grin, an idea popping into your head. Knowing he couldn’t react too much, you decided to mess with him just a little. You stood up and began to stretch, a little over the top and exaggerated in your movements. You noticed him do a double take, his eyebrow raised in question when he saw what you were doing but continuing the conversation he was in. He knew you were taking advantage of him not being able to react, a suspicion that was confirmed when you slowly peeled your tank top over your head. You held the tank top out in front of you between your fingers before dropping in onto the floor. Biting your lip, you turned to face away from him, hooking your thumbs into the sides of your shorts. You heard his breath hitch from behind you as you shimmied your bottoms down leaving you in just your sports bra and plain black thong. Glancing over your shoulder, lip still between your teeth, you saw his darkened eyes roam your body. He was struggling, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Satisfied with his reaction, you walked out of the office, an extra sway in your hips as you made your way upstairs to shower.

You had barely stepped into the shower when you heard the bathroom door open. A split second later, the shower door swung open and you were pulled into Sidney’s naked body, your back flush against his chest.

“What exactly do you think you were doing down there, (Y/N)?” He growled into your ear.

You smirked and ground your ass against him, his hardened length pressing against you. “I was just letting you know I was home.”

“You were being a tease,” He turned you to face him and spun you both around, pressing you up against the tile wall his hands gripping your hips firmly. “Weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” You bit your lip, eliciting a small groan from Sidney.

“You’re doing it again,” His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb pulling your lip from between your teeth. “You know what that does to me, baby.”

“Do something then.” You capture his thumb between your lips and suck, swirling your tongue around it.

He chuckles darkly, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. His lips collide with yours starting a frenzied kiss, your tongue tangling with his. You feel one of his legs move between yours, parting your thighs. You groan at the feeling of the thick muscle against your core, rolling your hips instantly against him. His lips move down your neck to your collar bone, nipping at your skin as your head rolls to the side to allow him better access.

“God, that feels so good.” You breathe, feeling him move down your body. His hands releasing yours and slowly drag down your arms, stopping to gently squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples taut. His tongue and lips follow, soothing the slight sting from his fingers. He falls to his knees, peppering kisses across your stomach and to your hip, pulling that leg onto his shoulder. The combination of the hot water from the shower head hitting your chest and the feeling of Sidney’s lips on your skin elicit a low moan in your throat.

“You’re not the only one who can tease, you know.” He grins against your inner thigh, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin. He traces the inside of your high with his fingers, causing you squirm. You hear a chuckle fall from his lips as his fingers draw closer to your slit. You inhale shakily, your eyes following his fingers as they continue to brush over your skin. His fingers lightly run over your wet entrance and you do what you can to suppress a loud moan.

“Sidney, please,” You beg, your eyes locking onto his. “What do you mean, please?” He queries, his fingers still tracing over your folds. “Just do something already,” You groan. He arches an eyebrow and a mischievous smile plays on his lips. “You mean like this?” he asks, barely slipping his finger inside of you. “Fuck...” You whimper, moving your hips in hopes to get him to go in further, but he pulls the digit out. “Patience, (Y/N),” he murmurs, running his long fingers over your slick opening. He slides his finger into you again, going a little deeper this time, but still not far enough to bring much satisfaction. You tilt your head back into the tile and let out an unhappy groan of frustration. You really can’t take any more of what you imagine is his cruel punishment for denying him earlier. “I said patience, baby.” “But you’re being such a tease…” You pout. He smiles, standing up again and planting a kiss on your lips. He reaches behind him to turn off the water and opens the shower door, stepping out and pulling you along with him. He leans you against the counter top facing the mirror, pressing himself onto you from behind, your hands bracing yourself on the marble top as he smirks at you through the mirror. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

In one swift movement Sidney grabs your hips, turns you around and lifts you to sit on the vanity, your hands gripping the edge. He’s trailing more kisses down your body, sinking to his knees in front of you once more. You watch him as he draws his lips closer to the growing heat between your legs. He runs his tongue along your slit and you inhale sharply as your hips involuntarily buck. His hands firmly grasp your hips, pushing them back down to the counter top. You whimper and look down as he kisses the inside of your thighs before returning his lips between your legs. You gasp as his tongue teases your clit and your eyes fall shut. Moaning, one of your hands comes up to his head and you tangle your fingers in Sidney’s hair, urging him to continue.

His hold on your hips remains strong as he continues to trace over your clit with his tongue. Each stroke drives your closer to the edge. One of his hands releases your hip, and you bite back a scream as he pushes one of his fingers inside of you. Your breathing becomes fast and shallow as he pumps his finger into you, his tongue still working its magic on the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck, Sid,” You say, panting heavily. A thin sheen of sweat is covering your body and you feel yourself nearing your peak. Just a little more and you will be completely over the edge. And he knows it.

His finger slips out of you, and you whimper in protest. He pulls his lips away; another unhappy whine leaves your mouth. He smirks at you, and you lick your lips, knowing that his lips are wet with your juices. Somehow, the thought only turns you on even more. “Why’d you stop?” You ask, breathless. “Couldn’t have you coming so soon, could we?” he says as he moves up to bring his face to yours. “It’s not like you couldn’t just make me come again.” He chuckles, his darkened eyes meeting yours. “But it’s just so much fun to see you squirm; so much fun to watch you beg for it,” he whispers before crashing his lips into yours.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and a shiver runs through your body as his fingertips lightly graze over your stomach. As his fingers draw closer to the heat between your legs, you roll your hips in an attempt to feel them on your aching pussy. His fingers finally trace over your wet slit, causing you to gasp into the kiss. You feel his lips curl into a smile as he kisses you. You moan against his lips while his fingers continue to tease you. Your hips buck once more under his touch, desperate for more, but he holds back from you and pushes your hips down. He deepens the kiss and shifts his body, spreading your legs wider. You can feel the tip of his erection lining up with your entrance, and you gasp as he guides himself into you agonizingly slow. His lips leave yours and make their way down to your neck. Your eyes instinctively fall shut, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against your skin. He places a kiss on your lips before he begins to rock his hips, quickly creating a steady rhythm. You moan as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer as he thrusts into you. His name passes from your lips as you move your hips in time with his. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.” He whispers, giving a light squeeze to one of your hips. After a moment, your eyes flutter open and they lock onto his smoldering gaze.

He rests his forehead against yours, his intense stare making your breath hitch in your throat. His thrusts become harder and deeper as he hits that deliciously pleasurable spot inside of you. You moan loudly, dropping an arm from around his neck and grasping onto the edge of the counter.

“Right there, baby,” You plead, your head falling back. “Oh god, there.”

He stops moving his hips, keeping himself buried inside of you, and you furrow your brow. You look up at him, frustrated and confused. He simply smiles down at you as he runs a hand down your leg. Shivers run through your body and you bite your lip in anticipation. He lifts your leg, rests it on his shoulder, and resumes thrusting into you, harder and faster than before. You gasp as he hits that spot from a different angle.

“Fuck,” You groan loudly, and he smirks back at you.

“Are you gonna come?” Sidney asks, knowing full well how close you are. You can only respond to him by moaning loudly. Not satisfied with how you answered, he brings one of his hands to your neck, gently squeezing but not to the point of cutting off air circulation. Just enough to get your attention. “Answer me, (Y/N), or I’ll stop right now.”

“Yes!” You cry desperately, “Please, don’t stop. I’m gonna fucking come.”

His rhythm is fast and steady, and you moan with each of his thrusts. You feel his fingers from the hand not around your throat slide down your body, gliding down your lower stomach, and you cry out in pleasure as they begin to rub your clit. Your arms come up to grip his shoulders tightly, your toes begin to curl, and you feel yourself tighten around his dick as you near your peak. His head falls to your shoulder, turning slightly so he can suck at your neck. His thrusts become sloppy, and you know that he’s just as close as you are.

“Fuck, (Y/N), do it now,” He growls into your ear, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly. “Come with me right now.”

The scream you release echos throughout the bathroom as you come, trembling harshly and digging your nails into the skin on Sidney’s shoulders. He groans out a string of curses into your neck, keeping himself buried completely as he releases inside of you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, trying to regulate your breathing. Sidney lifts his head to look at you, smiling before kissing you gently on the forehead, the tip of your nose then finally your lips. You pull away, your forehead resting on his.

“God, I love you.” He whispers.

“Even if I’m a tease?” You ask, biting your lip once more.

He chuckles softly, his hips beginning to move again slowly. “Especially when you’re a tease.”

#something different fic #sidney crosby #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby smut #txsl writes #my writing

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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Sing Me a Song (Joseph Liebgott x reader)

Can be read as a reader or OFC piece. I was playing around with writing in first person.

The song referenced is Only Forever by Bing Crosby.

Warnings: um...none really. fluff?

Tags: @evelynshelby

It was a cold, white hell. Snow covered everything. Well everything that had not been destroyed by the most recent barrage. The air was frigid, the cold seeping into my clothes until it felt like my bones had been replaced with icicles. Splintered trees surrounded us, an ode to the destruction we faced. Stains on the ground reminded us where someone had been hit, either injured or died.

The only thing that made this place even remotely tolerable was my fellow paratroopers...and him.

I sat next to Muck, sides pressed against one another with the idea of sharing warmth. Even if neither one of us had warmth to share. Our legs dangled over the side of Luz's foxhole, listening to him and Malark joke about something. A few other guys were around, listening in and adding their own commentary. Specifically, he sat across from me in the foxhole, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, fingers tapping out a silent beat on his thigh.

I remember the exact moment I met Joseph Liebgott. I knew he would be trouble for me. That messy hair, dark eyes and the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. Sure I found that attractive and his dry humor always made me laugh. Although his stubbornness and ability to pick a fight with almost anyone did irk me. He was untouchable. It was obvious he was a ladies-man, and knew it. I was...well, not someone typically picked up at a bar. I had always been alright with my lack of male attention, but for once, I wish I knew how to charm and flirt, to beguile a man and have the audacity to kiss one.

But that was not me. So I sat and watched from the sidelines.

"What the fuck are they singing about now?" Liebgott complained, glaring across the no-man's land between us and the Germans in the Bois Jacques.

Sure enough, German singing could be heard, carrying with the wind. They seemed to be singing more lately, either to boost their own morale or annoy the Americans.

It sure got a rise out of some of the paratroopers.

"They just serenading you, Joe." Malark joked then called over to a passing Sergeant, "Ain't that right, Lip?"

Lipton just shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "Whatever you say, Malark. You boys make sure to keep your heads down. Ma'am too." He kept walking, probably to find Dike.

I giggled, smiling as Lipton walked away. No matter how many times I told him to stop, he still called me 'ma'am'. Something about it being disrespectful and even in the middle of a war his mother would find him and spank him with her wooden spoon if she thought he was being disrespectful.

Liebgott kept scowling. "Well I wish they'd shut the fuck up." He mumbled something under his breath, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"Oh I see, you prefer me to serenade you." Luz smiled. "I mean, all you had to do was ask, really. Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping…"

"Shut it. I'm sick of your singing."

"Joe…" I reprimanded softly. He glanced over at me and gave the briefest of winks. That simple action, every time, always set my cheeks ablaze and a fire in my belly. I scrubbed a hand over my face, praying no one saw how flustered I was.

"Well what do you want? Not a lot of options here, unless you know where some band is hiding nearby." Muck said, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"Shit, I don't know. I just miss music, good music I guess. Always had the radio playing in my cab."

My heart broke at the forlorn look on his face. We all had our moments where the longing for home, to be anywhere but this terrible place, overwhelmed us. It was up to our friends around to cheer us up, however they could, but lately it was getting harder and harder to do. The constant threat of bombardment, the frigid cold, lack of food and watching our friends get injured and/or die. It killed the small hints of hope left in us. That we would survive. That we would escape this place.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh, some song probably playing in his head. Even those around us had grown silent, lost in their own memories of before. Who knew such a simple thing as music could be so meaningful.

"I'll sing for you."

Then I realized the words I blurted out. Shit.

"Yeah? You sing?"

Luz butted in. "Since when do you sing? And why are we hearing about this now? We could have been singing duets this whole time!"

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Liebgott. "I used to sing in school. Nothing special."

That may have been the biggest lie of my life. I used to sing all the time, whenever I could. I even sang for our local radio a couple times. Then war happened. It did not feel right to sing during training, just gave Sobel another reason to despise me, and here surrounded by blood and bullets, I did not even think about it.

For him though, I would do it. To make him smile in this frozen hell. I would sing for him.

"What are you going to sing?"

"What would you like?"

He paused for a moment before smirking. "Surprise me."

Well there was no going back now. Butterflies were throwing a lively party in my belly, my hands were sweaty and my mind continued to berate me for my idiotic decisions. I pushed it all away. I had survived D-Day. I had helped take Carentan. I had fought at the Crossroads. I could sing one song for the man that made my knees weak with a wink.

Right?

Shit.

Carefully I stood up, dusting the snow off my ODs as I mentally chose a song. What did I want to sing? In my mind I imagined myself back home, the sun shining on my face, sand between my toes and the sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. Then I imagined him next to me. A huge smile on his face, like the ones from back in Toccoa when he would hide Guarnere's boots just to see him furious and swearing to make even a sailor blush.

So I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and let the song pour forth.

Do I want to be with you

As the years come and go

Only forever

If you care to know.

Would I grant all your wishes

And be proud of the task

Only forever

If someone should ask.

How long would it take me

To be near if you beckon?

Off hand I would figure

Less than a second.

Do you think I'll remember

How you looked when you smile?

Only forever

That's puttin' it mild.

When I finished the song, barely a sound was heard. Self-conscious, I opened my eyes to meet the stares and dropped jaws of my fellow paratroopers.

I met those dark eyes that I adored and softly said, "happy Hanukkah, Joe."

Then my nerves gave out and I quickly dropped back down to sit next to Muck.

"What the hell was that? Were you planning on keep that from us this whole time?" Luz demanded, looking both offended and awed.

I just shrugged.

"That was beautiful." Muck whispered, nudging me in the side.

"Thank you."

Buck called my name from behind, so I turned to see all the officers standing nearby probably making a plan since Dike was not around. Honestly I was mortified that they had heard also but the smiles on their faces alleviated some of the anxiety. "From now on, only you should be singing for Easy."

"Hey!" Luz placed a hand over his heart, cigarette between his fingers. "You wound me, Buck. You love my singing."

"Keep telling yourself that, George."

Smiling at their silly antics, I was glad the attention was momentarily off me but I knew it would not be for long. It had felt good to sing again. I wondered if my self-imposed denial was without merit. If it boosted the morale of my friends, was it selfish of me to hold back? I figured I should talk to Doc about it later. He gave the best advice.

"You sang that….for me?"

The question startled me out of my musings. I looked over the foxhole to see Liebgott staring at me with an intensity I had never seen before. It made a fire grow in my belly and my toes curl.

I nodded, biting my chapped lip.

His eyes bore into mine for a long moment. Then without warning, he shoved off the side of the foxhole he sat on and in two steps stood before me. Before a word could escape me, his lips crushed against mine with an almost bruising passion.

It felt as if the world faded away and the only thing that mattered was his soft, equally chapped lips, his warm breath and the feeling of his hands cupping my cheeks. Once my brain restarted, I kissed him back with equal passion. For a moment I was unsure if this was a dream or real. Either way I intended to enjoy it. I knocked his helmet off so I could card my fingers through his messy hair like I had fantasized about so many times. It was greasy and dirty but it was perfect.

Eventually the world resumed and I could hear the hooting and cheering of the guys around us. I pulled back slightly from Liebgott, my cheeks flaming from more than just the cold.

"Hell of a kiss you laid on her, Joe." Malarkey teased.

"Hell of a dame." Liebgott replied, his eyes never leaving mine as one of his thumbs brushed gently over my swollen, bottom lip. I could not help the small smile, amazed that this was real.

Quickly he snuck a brief kiss once more before pulling himself up and sitting next to me, his arm tucking me into his side. Not that I complained.

"Why don't you kiss me after I sing to you? Huh?" Luz pouted but the huge smile on his face gave him away.

"I guess you didn't know the right song."

They laughed at my joke, the tension that typically hung over us like an axe gone for the time. The guys heckled one another and tried to convince me to sing again amidst pretending to recreate The Kiss scene Liebgott and I just gave them, like some high school play.

The snow and cold seeped through our clothes, threatening that we would never feel warmth again. The enemy sat in wait not far from us. For now, I pretended those dangers were imaginary. I laughed as Luz tried to sing like me, only to fail spectacularly, and be bombarded with snow balls.

Most of all, I felt a fresh breath of life in me as I scooted closer and laid my head on Liebgott's shoulder, his arm tight around my side. The faintest press of a kiss on the top of my head made my smile grow.

I wondered if I should have sang months ago or maybe it was this moment, that finally allowed me to show him how I felt.

His fingers thread through mine, and I realized it did not matter. I was happy. And that was something I planned on never letting go.

#easy company #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x ofc #george luz #donald malarkey #buck compton #skip muck #reader insert #mzwrites

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an-unknown-writers-world · 5 years ago

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The Little Things

Day Two: Decorating the Tree

Part of @panicfob 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst,

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First Person-nameless)

Word Count: 1798

A/N: Thank you fo all the wonderful feedback on Christmas Cookies, it means so much! If you missed it you can find it here, but for now, enjoy the slow burn.

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**Crash**

A loud thud echoed through the foyers causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. Afraid someone might have been hurt I abandoned my post decorating the dining room. This was my first Christmas at the compound, and I seemed to be the only one with any holiday spirit even after making cookies with Morgan. When I asked Sam and Bucky to pick up a tree, I couldn’t help but laugh at the childish tantrums I was met with. Rounding the corner, I was met with Sam and Bucky’s bickering and the smell of fresh pine.

“You’re going to break it,” Sam grumbled.

“You can’t break a tree.” Bucky retorted.

“Why are you such an idiot? If you ruin this tree, she’s going to ruin your face.”

I laughed breaking up the argument.

“This better be big enough. We’re not going back.” Bucky eyeballed the tree.

Bucky stood the tree up giving me a clear image of it; a beautiful noble fir tree, perfectly shaped from top to bottom and standing near seven feet tall.

“It’s perfect.” I beamed.

“Perfect, then you can help him set it up,” Bucky grumbled before storming off.

“Thank you,” I called out as he walked away.

He waived his in response but never turned back.

“He hates me,” I mumbled to Sam in disappointment.

“Don’t worry about it. He hates everyone.” Sam reassured. “Where do you want it?”

I pointed to the tree stand already set up in the sitting room. It wasn’t commonly used in group settings, let’s face it, there aren’t many group events here. But I’m determined to change that this Christmas. “Thank you, Sam.”

“You hold and I’ll tighten?” He smiled.

I nodded,

It only took a few minutes for him to situate the tree into the stand, there were several huffs and grunts as he tried to situate it. It probably would have been a little smoother if Bucky would have stayed to help. We stepped back to admire Sam’s handy work. He may not be in the holiday spirit, but he at least wasn’t fighting me every step of the way like Bucky was. I thought Bucky might have been a little more on my side after yesterday with Morgan, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Bruce came and went as needed, but he was gone more often than not; and Wanda, she tried her hardest to be present, but she spent a lot of her time alone or with Clint on his family’s ranch.

“Thanks again, Sam.”

“Sure thing,” He hesitated for a moment, “You’re not gonna make me help decorate it, right”

I laughed shaking my head, “No, I’ll do it.”

Sam kissed my cheek and disappeared down the corridor.

It left me alone in my own thoughts, standing to look at the plain tree standing in an already decorated room. I was questioning if I was making the right decision, this time of year was hard on most people, especially someone like Bucky who has lost everything. Christmas now days was incredibly different than it was in the forties, and I imagine Christmas wasn’t exactly a top holiday in Hydra bases. I tried to rack my brain on things that might make this special for Bucky, that may try to bring the Grinch some joy in this hard time.

I leaned against the archway and pulled out my phone to utilize the best piece of technology ever created – Google. It didn’t take long to find a classic recipe for Christmas cookies, it was one I actually remembered my Grandmother making when I was a child. Looking over it I found I had all the ingredients but one. I looked at the clock and decided I had enough time that I could run to the store, eat dinner and make cookies and have plenty of time to decorate the tree tonight.

**** A few hours later ****

It was dark outside, city lights illuminated the skyline beyond the trees outside the compound, the only sound was Christmas music that played on my phone while took the lids off all the decoration boxes, they were a surprise from Pepper; when she found out about my love for Christmas her motherly instinct kicked in and she wanted to help spread the cheer with the team. They had been delivered this afternoon while I was the grocery store, Bucky was nice enough to at least get them into the sitting room, and either he or Sam had wrapped the tree in lights already.

A soft light fell in the room from the foyer, but it was still mostly dark, lit mostly by the beautiful white lights from the tree. I grew up decorating the tree with my parents and brother so the thought of decorating it alone was a little depressing. I grabbed my Mimosa glass and took a drink from it staring at the tree. All of the balls for the tree were red, blue, gold and white – an obvious nod to those we were missing this Christmas. One box had nine hand decorated balls, cleared painted by Morgan and seemed to pay tribute to those lost and those of us still around.

“You know it won’t decorate itself,” Bucky said walking in the room.

I jumped feeling like my heart ripped right out of my chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He said coming to sit on the edge of the couch.

“It’s okay, I thought everyone was asleep.” I shrugged.

“Tried.”

His presence was distracting, to say the least, his white V-neck clung to his chest and his black sweats hung low on his hips.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

He shook his head no.

I put my glass down and picked up a strand of garland, “Wanna help?” I asked.

Bucky looked at me slightly unimpressed.

“Oh wait!” I exclaimed. “Stay right here.”

I ran out of the room before he could respond. Grabbing the plate of cookies from the counter I made my way back into the sitting room. It was hard to miss the smile that broke out on his face, it was a magical sight that was rarely seen.

“Are these?” He broke off.

“Nutmeg Cookie Logs.” I finished. “My grandmother used to make them when I was a kid.” I hesitated, handing him the plate. “I can only imagine how hard this time of year is for you, everything you’ve been through and lost. These, I guess I just hope maybe remind you of some happy times in your life.”

He took the plate from me, our hands briefly overlapping.

“Thank you,” Bucky smiled at me genuinely, “This is great, really great.”

I couldn’t help the bit of pride the welled up in me, I was going to take this as a victory; a small one, but a victory none the less. Directing my attention back to the tree I started taking the Morgan painted balls out handing three of them to Bucky.

“I think you should be the one to hang these,” I said softly.

The Christmas balls had Caps Shield, Natasha’s hourglass and Bucky’s star on them. He looked down at them with a bittersweet smile, taking them from my hands.

“Pepper had to have helped with these,” Bucky said hanging them.

“Totally,”

“I saw what she did with those cookies,” He laughed, “This had to have been highly supervised.”

“Hey, we supervised.” I retorted hanging some of the plain colored balls.

To my surprise Bucky continued to hang ornaments on the tree, the colors balanced and beautifully arranged. He softly hummed along with the music that played in the background, it was a Bing Crosby Christmas album. It was sweet moments like this that reminded me why I stayed, through the terrible sleepless nights from both of our nightmares, the days that neither of us would talk, and the constant battle between him and Sam.

“Hey, Buck,” I asked moving the empty containers out of the way.

“Yeah, doll?”

I smiled at the endearment, “Did you hang these lights?”

He paused and looked at me, his hand nervously rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yea, ‘s no big deal though.”

I smiled at him, “Thank you, I never could have gotten them so even and straight.”

He smiled back at me and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Growing up my dad was always the one who hung the lights and then left the decorating to my brother and me.” I laughed a little, “My mom always went back in behind us kids to rearrange the ornaments. But when we were finally done decorating us kids would lay under the tree and look up through the lights.”

“Sounds like a nice tradition.”

I sighed standing back to look at the now full tree, “It was.”

Bucky looked at me, “You miss them.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, “I’ve never been a touchy person, but my dad used to give the best hugs in the world. They were the kind of hugs that you could feel in your soul, they’d fix any problem you had even if it was just for a few seconds.” I looked up, “Steve’s were a pretty close match.”

Bucky smiled, “He must have been a pretty great man to have a daughter like you.”

“He was,” I smiled back. “He was my hero.

We both fell silent as we looked at the tree. I knew I should say something, but I wasn’t sure what. The tree looked beautiful and the room felt Christmasy, I was afraid I’d mess it up if I did anything. Rather than risk it, I bent down to pick up my now empty glass and decided to head to bed.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” I turned to him. “Thank you for your help tonight, Bucky.”

“Sure thing,” He smiled back.

“Goodnight,”

“Night,”

I walked to the kitchen to dispose of my glass in the sink before making it back towards the stairwell in the foyer. Just barely passing the archway of the sitting room I heard my name be called, turning back I saw Bucky step out.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I know its not the same and I could never replace either of them, not that I’m trying to, that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do here,” He was babbling, it was cute and endearing.

“Bucky,” I said softly trying to get him to refocus.

“Sorry,” He smiled, “What I was trying to say was, anytime you need a hug I am happy to oblige.”

I smiled back at him, that was not at all what I was expecting. “That means a lot, thank you.”

“Sweet dreams,” Bucky said before turning back into the sitting room.

#panic's 25 days of christmas #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #A Very Marvel Christmas #Tree Decorating #an unknown writers world #An Unknown Writers World writes

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ijustwanttoexist · 5 years ago

Text

Love Isn’t Just a Walk in the Park Pt. 6

First of all, I want to say thank you for the donations to my ko-fi. I don’t have the right words for how much they mean to me, but they mean a lot. You guys have been and are amazing. Thank you.

Also, a friendly reminder that I don’t work with dogs/pets, so if I include something in my fics that is dangerous to animals, please let me know and I’ll be sure to spread the word so we can keep all our pets safe.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pairing(s): Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Sidney doesn’t actually come back in the next day the shop is open, but Geno doesn’t worry about it. He knows that Sidney and his team are probably really busy with playoffs. Any maybe that teammate of Sid’s hasn’t had a chance to talk to him about coming to the store. And really, with the heat steadily increasing as Spring progresses and builds into Summer, who wants to be outside running, no matter how cute the dogs in Geno’s shop are?

So no, he doesn’t worry about the fact Sidney doesn’t arrive bright and early the next morning to pick a dog to run with. (And Angela can stop giving him those knowing looks when she thinks he’s not looking. So what if he decided to change up the schedule and take on some morning shifts. Change is good sometimes.)

He doesn’t worry the next morning either, because the shop is closed for business since it’s a Wednesday, so it’s just him and the animals as he takes inventory and restocks the shelves and catches up on a seemingly never ending pile of paperwork.

But by Friday afternoon, he’s a bit worried. Or perhaps worried isn’t the right word. The conversation he’d had with Sidney’s teammate had inflated hope in his chest like a helium balloon. And like a helium balloon, it deflated just a little bit for each day that passed. And now that hope feels sluggish in his chest, not floating high to bounce on the ceiling anymore, but hovering in the middle of the room as it slowly grows smaller.

Sara actually asks if he’s feeling okay after he’s returned from lunch. Apparently he’s actually been touching his chest and making uncomfortable faces every time he lets himself stop and think about it, and he feels silly for it.

He gives her a shrug and a smile he knows is a bit strained.

“Heartburn,” he says.

“Did you take something for it, or are you being dumb and trying to tough it out?”

“Took some antacids,” he promises.

“And it’s not working?” She sounds really concerned, and Geno feels guilty for lying.

“Just take at lunch. Should start to work any minute now.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, but goes back to cleaning up a spill in one of the aisles, all the while telling Geno exactly how it happened in excruciating and extremely dramatic detail. Geno finds himself laughing, enjoying her probably highly exaggerated story and appreciating it in the spirit it’s meant.

The bell above the door jingles as Geno is in the middle of a deep belly laugh, head thrown back, one hand clutching the counter so he doesn’t overbalance and the other lifting to wipe the tears from his eyes. He opens one eye as he swipes at the other, and he’s in too good of a mood to freeze when he sees Sid standing by the door looking a little distracted.

“Sid, good to see you,” he says, not even trying to fight the smile that nearly splits his face. And if he hadn’t already known he’d fallen for this ridiculous man, he would know now, because even with that atrocious wispy attempt at a beard Sidney is still the best thing Geno has seen in days.

“Hey,” Sid says back, seemingly coming back from whatever had been distracting him, and gives a tentative half wave. He looks nervous, like he’s not sure of his welcome.

“Hey, Sid!” Sara says, leaning on her mop and waving at him, “long time no see, dude. Angela and I were going to start a betting pool on what happened to you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, glancing between Geno and Sara.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Angela was pretty sure you were cheating on us with one of those other shelters at that photo shoot, y’know? I told her now way, but she was pretty convinced. Told me she saw you cozying up with a springer spaniel while everyone was mingling.”

“Oh, no, I...”

Sara interrupts him.

“But I was pretty sure that our beloved boss somehow put his foot in it while you two were talking, because you kind of seemed to be avoiding him after that? And like, he’s been kind of moping around since then, y’know?”

“No, I...” Geno tries to cut in and save himself the embarrassment.

“Oh, well...” Sid begins.

Sara continues to talk over them.

“And G wasn’t really talking about it at all, which seemed kind of like a dead giveaway. But then I was thinking that maybe you put your foot in it, and were too embarrassed to come back. Because G’s pretty great when it comes to communication, and he’s never too proud to apologize if he messes up.”

She stares Sidney down as she talks, no longer leaning on her mop but using all of her not inconsiderable height, shoulders squared for an encounter, one hand on her hip and the other white-knuckled on the mop handle. Geno watches it all with wide eyes, his brain screaming at him to say something to stop her tirade but unable to get his mouth to work.

“Because really, it wouldn’t make sense for G to be moping so hard if he was the one that messed up, y’know? He’s a great person and he wouldn’t just let bad feelings stew if he was responsible for them. So whatever happened obviously wasn’t his fault.”

She falls silent then, making intense eye contact with the man she knows upset her boss while he gives her a decidedly dear in headlights look.

“Sara,” Geno finally breaks the silence, “take your break.” She startles.

“What? No, I...” She cuts off when Geno gives her a significant look, trying to convey that he’s not angry she apparently decided she needed to defend his honor but just that he wanted a moment alone.

“Long break.” He gives Sidney a considering look, the looks back at her. “Half hour, at least.”

“But the mess,” she says weakly, gesturing with the mop.

“Will still be here when you back.”

She gives him a narrow-eyed look.

“And you promise you won’t try to clean it?”

“Promise,” he agrees. Because hunching over the mop always makes his back ache in ways nothing else ever does and he happily leaves it to the girls. She gives a decisive nod, then walks out the front door, giving Sidney one last stink eye as she leaves.

The men look at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“I’m...sorry?” Sidney says finally. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, looking between them and Geno. Geno himself has leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.

“Don’t need to be sorry, Sidney. Nothing to apologize for.” He waves his hand like he’s erasing the apology away.

“I feel like maybe I do.”

“No,” Geno denies, “done nothing wrong. You run dogs on your time. Know you’re busy now, in playoffs.” Geno shrugs. “Not so much time for best dogs now.”

“I should have called or something.” Sidney insists.

“Don’t owe me anything, Sid.” He says it more somber than he means to, and sees Sidney flinch. He’s not looking at his fingers anymore, eyes solely on Geno.

“I did kind of drop a bomb on you then disappear,” he says, looking chagrined.

“You did,” Geno agrees, “think maybe you don’t mean it, telling me about no boyfriend. Or regret it. Maybe you realize you make a mistake to say that, realize you don’t want me.” Sidney winces.

“I did mean it. I just...I panicked. I’m not really a spontaneous kind of person. I did research on this place for like a month before I came in asking if I could walk your dogs. And telling you I wasn’t straight, that was really spontaneous. And then I started to doubt myself, y’know?

“What if I misread all of our interactions and it was just wishful thinking on my part that you were into me? And then what if me saying that made you really uncomfortable and you didn’t want to deal with me anymore? I convinced myself it was easier if I just didn’t come back.”

“Was easier,” Geno agreed. “Doing nothing always easier. But sometimes,” Geno pauses and looks around his shop with fondness, “sometimes easier isn’t best thing. Easier would mean I’m not here, in America, have no pet shop, never meet best employees.” He meets Sidney’s eyes, gives him a fond smile. “Or beautiful man with best smile and great ass.”

That gets a chuckle out of Sidney even as he turns bright red.

“One of my teammates reminded me that I play professional hockey for a living, and that I’m kind of an outspoken, opinionated pain in the ass about pretty much everything. And that I’ve probably never actually taken the easier path in my entire life up until now. And then, because he’s an asshole, he whipped me with a towel in my own kitchen and gave me a pep talk full of awful hockey innuendos.”

Geno laughed.

“Good stick handling? Work in deep and go in the back? Go in hard and fast?” Geno suggests, and sticks his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing.

Sidney groans at Geno’s awful entendres and shakes his head.

“Less sex stuff and more stereotypical sports pep talk right before the big game that happens in literally every sports movie and show that has every existed, but for dating.”

“Want to date me, Sid?” Geno asks playfully. Sidney squares his shoulders.

“Yeah, I really do. We’re flying out tonight for a couple of away games, but maybe I could take you out for dinner some time next week?”

“Would like that,” Geno agrees.

“Yeah?” Sid says, face lit up and smile wide.

“Yes. Give me your number and we’ll text, make plans.” They swap numbers, giving each other wide dopey smiles the whole time.

They stand there just staring at each other for who knows how long until the bell above the door rings and they both startle.

It’s Sara. She looks between the two of them and then rolls her eyes.

“Oh thank god, it looks like you two finally figured it out. Two more weeks, and I would have owed Angela fifty bucks.”

“How many betting pools do you two have?” Sidney asks.

“We have all the details in our texts, but maybe like fifteen?” Sara shrugs. “It keeps us entertained. All that matters now is that I won and I’m using that money on all of the pizza.” She says, and goes back to mopping after saying goodbye to Sidney.

“I’ll text you,” Sidney promises as he leaves. Geno waves at him and turns to go back to work. His phone vibrating in his pocket stops him. He checks it and smiles. He knows he must look embarrassingly besotted, but Sara’s kind enough not to say anything as he texts back or when he starts whistling to himself.

She just asks him if he wants to go out for pizza after work, and he happily accepts.

#sidgeno #sidney crosby #evgeni malkin #I...I think this is it?#I think this is the last installment #maybe?#I might do a first date or like the first time he meets the team #or maybe geno going to a game and how he feels about that #and hey look at that I accidentally shovel talked again #I'm so good at doing those apparently

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spine-buster · 7 years ago

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Chapter 23 - The Beginning and the End of Everything (Finn Balor)

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @thewriterformerlytaggedas@fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign@baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt@newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27@kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne@fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay@50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns@kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @nickysmum1909 @houndofjustice-imagines @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wweximaginesxd @indywrestlinglover-life @mandi512 @kakakatey @ourscratcheddreams @sleeplessandcynical @badame124 @thevixeniris

“How do I look?” Gemma asked one last time as the limousine stopped, the driver putting the car in park and exiting.

“Like I said…you look delectable,” Fergal eyed her. She’d chosen a floor length black dress with a gold belt and straps, and an exposed back. At first she wanted to wear something that looked like a nun’s habit but he managed to convince her out of it. He was trying every day to make it known to her that despite the “new body” she always harped on about, she was still attractive and sexy; still allowed to feel like a million bucks. She had looked at herself in the mirror for a good ten minutes with the dress on. When she made a quip about gold being her colour anyway, he knew she’d chosen the dress.

They posed on the red carpet for a few pictures before a handler ushered them inside. Upon entering the building they were met with a few more photographers, taking informal pictures of them before Gemma had to do the media scrum.

Fergal watched as she looked around the room, mentally counting the amount of reporters lined up interviewing hockey players. He squeezed her hand to get her attention. “You alright?”

Before Gemma could answer him, her name was called loudly from beyond the media scrum. Gemma turned her attention away from Fergal, trying to find the voice that had called her name. Fergal watched as Gemma’s face lit up. “John!”

A good looking man in a very well tailored suit speed walked towards her, engulfing her in a giant hug. Fergal noticed the media pass around his neck sandwiched between their bodies. “God, I’m so glad I get to see you before the ceremony!” the man exclaimed, letting go of his hug but still keeping his hands on her arms. Fergal was watching closely. “How are you? How’s everything?”

Gemma shrugged her shoulders, a giant smile on her face. “Everything’s good. You know. Could be better but it’s still good.”

“Making the best of a shitty situation.”

“As always.”

Fergal stood awkwardly watching the interaction before the man looked his way. His hands dropped from Gemma’s arms. “You must be Fergal,” he said, extending his hand. Fergal shook it politely. “I’m John Patterson. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Fergal nodded his head. “How do you know Gemma?”

“We’ve worked together in the past,” Gemma answered for him. “John works for the Leafs now,” she looked towards him. She backhanded his arm playfully. “Are you head of PR yet or what?”

“I’m working on it,” John blushed. “But speaking of, make sure you stop by Patti for us so we can get an interview with you – lifelong Leaf fan and all,” he turned to point out the reporter in the scrum Gemma would need to speak to. “Will I see you at the after-party?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, good. I’ll come find you,” he hugged her again. He turned to Fergal. “It was really nice to meet you, man. I’ve heard so much about you. But I’m working tonight, so I’ll catch up with you at the after-party.”

“Yeah, cool, nice to meet you too,” Fergal said, John leaving halfway through the sentence.

Yet another man in a suit approached them, this time much older. “Ms. Fitzgerald, are you ready? You’ll begin just as Mr. Bergeron moves on.”

“Yes sir,” Gemma nodded her head, flattening out her dress.

Fergal knew that was the moment where she’d be gone for at least fifteen or twenty minutes and he’d be left alone in the background. He knew he would have to ask her the only question that was currently on his mind. “That John guy, you said he worked with you before?”

“Mhm.”

“Where? Hockey Canada?”

“Uh, not entirely.”

“Well, where then?”

Gemma gulped, wishing the first reporter would call her over. She saw Patrice Bergeron moving along to the second reporter. “You remember how I told you I’ve only really had one serious boyfriend before you?”

Fergal’s heart fluttered for a moment – not in the good way. “That was him?!”

“Mhm.”

“That’s your ex-boyfriend? He works for the Leafs?”

“Mhm.”

“Wait…” Fergal replayed the conversation. “Why did he say he’s heard so much about me?”

Before he could say anything else, the older gentleman approached them again. “Ms. Fitzgerald, you may go ahead to the media scrum now.”

“Gemma.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Gemma,” he said sternly, but she left him there to process what he just heard and ask himself a million more question he’d have to wait to get the answer to.

He watched her every move as she made her way through the scrum. In that time, his brain was on overdrive trying to come up with some answers. So, she had an ex-boyfriend who worked in the hockey world. He knew she had one; she just never specified who he was or what field he worked in. Now Fergal knew. John was attractive. A ‘Suit’ type. Slightly older than Gemma but of course, younger than himself. Anyone Gemma knew would be younger than him, Fergal reasoned. He was ten years older than she was. He was an old geezer. And it was possible (was it clear?) that they still kept in touch. How else would John know she was with him? Nobody mentioned it on WWE programming. He never tweeted out any pictures of them together. She didn’t tweet out any pictures of them together. This was their first official event together. He didn’t even hug her during his return match, at her request. Unless he knew because of Fergal’s attendance at the Leafs game where they honoured Gemma. But they weren’t even together then. Did she tell him over text? Over phone call when he wasn’t around? What was that conversation like? Why did she even feel the need to tell him? Why -----

“You alright?” Gemma’s voice interrupted his spiralling train of thought. “We should go sit down. It’s just through there. We’re in the fourth row.”

Fergal didn’t want to wait any longer for answers. “What happened with you and John?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you guys break up?”

Gemma tugged at his arm, pulling him through the black curtain so they were alone in the area between the media scrum and the main area, where nobody would hear what they were talking about. “We were just on different paths,” she began, looking at him. “I was traveling a lot and then he got the job with the Leafs. There was never any ill will or anything. It was very mutual, and we knew it had to be done. We were very mature about it.”

“That’s why you two still talk.”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy. There aren’t many like him in hockey – at least in the offices. He doesn’t let his position get to his head. That sort of thing.”

Fergal calmed down considerably. There was no way he was going to completely freak out. She was so calm about telling him. And there was no way he was going to ruin her night at the NHL Awards by getting angry with her. John did seem like a pretty levelheaded guy. And if he was good enough for Gemma to date and still keep in touch with, he would be good enough for Fergal. “So I shouldn’t be worried about him?”

“Oh no way,” Gemma scoffed. “He’s married to his job now. He wants to be like, head of PR for the Leafs by the time he’s thirty…he’s a career man. Always was, really. He’ll be one of those guys that doesn’t settle down until he’s in his late thirties or early forties.”

“Like me.”

Gemma smiled. “Like you.” She leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about Ferg. He’s great but he’s not Fergal Devitt level great.”

The NHL Awards were fun for Fergal. Though he was in a different environment than what he was used to and felt a little bit out of his element, he was enjoying the ambience and ceremony. The more important thing was that every time he looked at Gemma, she looked like she was having the time of her life. He absolutely loved seeing her so happy. Throughout the night she had hockey players – guys she loved and respected and probably watched on TV – coming up to her and telling her how much they loved her. Fergal could tell it was surreal for her. Every time one left, she’d squeeze his arm and dig her nails into his skin. She’d tell him who the person was, as if he would know how much weight their words and praises had on her. ‘That was Joe Sakic, Ferg.’ ‘Ferg, that was Sidney Crosby. Sidney fucking Crosby. People say I’m the female him.’ ‘Holy mother of God, Fergal. Mark Messier! Mark Messier!’

Gemma received a standing ovation from everybody when she went out on stage, and Fergal knew she was trying very, very hard to keep her emotions in check. To be given an ovation in a room full of your peers was a lot to handle. He could tell, too, that one of the cameras panned right to him, standing and clapping along with everyone else, but at that point he didn’t care. He was there for Gemma and Gemma only. If hockey writers and reporters wanted to speculate about who he was and do some digging, he didn’t care – he was there to support his girlfriend. That was all that mattered to him, and that was all that should matter.

Gemma said a few kind words before presenting the Hart Trophy some young guy a guy named Connor McDavid. It was about five minutes before he’d see her again, and by that point it was the end of the show. Everybody in the arena began to leave for the afterparty, which is exactly where he and Gemma were headed for a bit before calling it a night. He knew she would want to mingle with everyone so he made sure to have an extra shot of espresso to stay awake.

As they began to make their way out of the T-Mobile Arena, both Gemma and Fergal both heard an extremely loud ‘GEMMAAAAAAAAAA!’ from behind them. Gemma spun around quickly, only to see P.K Subban running towards her. Her face lit up immediately as he picked her up and spun her around.

“PK!” she squealed as she set him down. “About time I saw you!”

“I had to surprise you! Look at you in this dress, girl,” he gave her the up down. “Did you choose this or did your boyfriend over here?” he nodded his head towards Fergal.

“Hey, be nice,” she pointed her finger at him comically. “And for your information, I chose this dress all by myself.”

“You must be the infamous PK Subban,” Fergal chimed in, completely taking Gemma by surprise. She had no idea how Fergal knew who he was. Bless him, but he was completely clueless about hockey – as clueless as she was about wrestling. “I’ve read a lot about you.”

“I hope you’ve only read the good articles,” PK quipped.

“You bet. One of my best buddies is from Montreal and he told me about your donation to the children’s hospital. You’re the fucking man, PK.”

PK put his hand over his heart solemnly. “Hey man, it’s my honour to do stuff like that, you know. You understand completely, don’t you Balor?”

Gemma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Fergal knowing who PK was, bringing up his donation to the Montreal Children’s Hospital; PK bringing up Fergal’s wrestling name? “Are you stalking my boyfriend, PK?”

PK rolled his eyes. “I don’t stalk your boyfriend, sweetheart. My little cousin is obsessed with him,” he focused his attention back to Fergal. “He’s got the bodysuit and everything. I had to buy it for him for Christmas. He wouldn’t shut up about it and now he won’t stop wearing it.”

Fergal couldn’t help but laugh. He always found wrestling in the most unconventional of places. “Well in that case, he should get a little too sweet from me.”

PK’s eyes bulged out of his head as he whipped out his phone. “Dude, he’s gonna freak. Next thing you know we’re gonna be doing a buddy cop movie together.”

“PK --” Gemma tried to interject.

“I’ve already thought about this – what about something simple like Subban and Balor? Or do you want to be first? Balor and Subban? Who’s the good cop and who’s the bad cop?” he chatted as he took the selfie.

“PK --”

“Ooooooh dude, what about a sitcom? Like the odd couple? Hey could you get John Cena to make a cameo?”

“Pernell-Karl,” Gemma emphasized his full name. “Stop scaring my boyfriend.”

“I’m not scaring him!” PK defended himself. “He loves the idea.”

“Hey PK, let’s go!” another voice shouted from within the crowd.

“Hey listen,” PK put his hand on Fergal’s shoulder. “Anytime you’re in Toronto with this one over here, you let me know. I know people who can get the pilot script going in no time.”

“PK! Let’s go!”

He disappeared into the massive crowd of people as Fergal continued to laugh at the prospect of them in any sort of TV show together. Judging by how well their brief meeting went, any hypothetical time they’d spend together would drive Gemma nuts. “I love that guy,” he chuckled.

“How do you even know who he is?” Gemma asked, shaking her head.

“Hey, I do my homework.”

At the after party, Gemma was having the time of her life. She milked her drink for a while, only because so many people were coming up to her and talking to her. Some conversations were jovial while others were more serious – some even whispered or talked in low, hushed voices so no-one else would hear. Gemma would nod along secretively. Fergal wondered what they were saying – but then again, he’d know the second they got into their hotel room.

It was only when they were alone together, briefly, that Fergal noticed her eyes go wide for a very brief second. She immediately looked down and away from whatever she had been looking at.

Fergal looked behind him. Was it PK again? Was it someone else she idolized? “You alright?” he asked.

"Don’t look now…but…do you see that woman behind you? In that tight bandage dress?"

He looked behind him immediately and saw exactly who Gemma was referring to. "Yeah..."

"That's her. That's Amanda Robinson."

Fergal tried to remain calm. He really did. But at the mention of that name, he felt his blood begin to boil. He took one good look at her and promptly decided she was the absolute ugliest woman he'd ever seen in his life. Sure, she was conventionally attractive to some, but knowing what she had done to Gemma, knowing how she had no remorse, that she practically bragged about it and was still allowed to step foot on the ice made her the ugliest woman in the world. No apology. No acknowledgement of wrongdoing. Nothing.

"Want me to get Becky on her?" he asked, his jaw tight.

"That sounds tempting, but I'll pass. She's not worth it."

“I ought to go over there and give her a piece of my mind,” Fergal said through clenched teeth.

“Ferg.”

“I mean it. She fucking injured you, Gemma. What is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know, but please don’t.”

“This is your night.”

“Technically it’s Connor McDavid’s night.”

Fergal looked at her. “You are the best god damn female hockey player of your generation. Don’t you ever forget that. She can show up here and try to get attention but nobody, nobody, not the least her, is ever going to change the fact that you’re the best. Fuck, you’re probably better than half the guys here.”

Gemma couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m stating the truth. You’re the best Gemma. That’s what’s going down in the record books.”

Gemma was tired as she answered questions for a room full of reporters the next morning. There would later be a luncheon for everyone involved in the ceremony last night, especially for those who won awards. Gemma had been invited and thought it was a nice way to cap off the weekend. She wasn’t told about the press conference beforehand, but she participated nonetheless.

It was very different from the last press conference she held, to say the least. At the last one, of course, she had to announce how she couldn’t play hockey again. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do. And to do it in front of a room full of people? That made it even worse. Things were different now, but she still felt slightly uncomfortable. Usually when she did these, it was because of a good game or a win in an international tournament. Now, instead of questions pertaining to her game, she was getting questions about her ‘retirement’. She asked them specifically not to call it a retirement. She wasn’t retired. She was twenty-six, for heaven’s sake. No twenty-six year old should be retired.

“Ms. Fitzgerald, I’m from the Vancouver Sun. I was wondering if you saw Amanda Robinson at the ceremony last night?”

Uncomfortable murmurs made their way through the room. What was this douchebag trying to do? “No, I didn’t see her.”

“Did you hear the remarks she made?” he asked again.

“No.”

“May I have permission to play the recording?” he asked, but barely waited for Gemma’s answer. He pressed play and a reporter’s voice filled the air, asking about what Amanda thought about Gemma presenting the Hart Trophy.

“She looks good though. I mean, I thought she was pregnant at first, but when I was told she wasn’t I figured her body just filled out,” Amanda’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “I saw her still limping from her injury tonight, which is a shame because by now she should be walking fine.”

Gemma felt like her entire body was on fire. She tried to maintain her composure, to not let the room full of press know how angry she was getting, but she rolled her eyes slightly. It was the only action she actually wished got caught on camera. She figured there was no more front to put up. No more grace for the sake of Hockey Canada; no more polite attitude for the sake of her spot on the team.

“Any response?” the reporter asked.

“You can tell Amanda Robinson I’m still limping because it’s heavier to carry gold around the neck than silver.”

#finn balor #finn blalor fic #finn balor imagine #finn balor fan fic #finn balor fan fiction #finn balor fanfic #finn balor fanfiction #wwe #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe fan fiction #wwe fan fic #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #baeoe series

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ecsundance · 4 years ago

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A very Long (yet very awesome) Week of Sundance

Organisers of Sundance say in Tryon’s discussion that “If a filmmaker wants to create his or her own idiosyncratic vision, it’s often not worth looking around for a big budget, waiting for others to say it’s okay to make it. You have to stand up and make the film yourself…” (pg.164) and Kevin MacDonald in Tryon’s discussion talks about how basically all you need to make a movie is a laptop and a video camera, and how amazing it is that we live in a time which we can do this (pg.156)

This is similar to the idea that you can complain about not having enough time or experience to do something, but if you get over yourself and do it either you fail and learn, or you succeed and gain confidence. If you have a great idea then nothing should hold you back from making it a reality. Movies with billions of dollars behind them have fallen flat. So it stands to reason that a movie made on weekends with only a couple bucks could be amazing.

According to Chuck Tryon’s discussion of “Reinvented Festivals” (pg. 160), because there are a lot more independent bloggers/critics now due to newspapers not hiring many, there is a consistent stream of new reviews being released even minutes after a film finishes premiering.

Taking part in this class and festival and constantly thinking about what I thought about a film plays into this as I (along with my classmates) were some of the first to review some of these films. It’s such a fun experience to think and talk about film as everyone will have various ways of perceiving and connecting to each film.

Favourite Film From the Festival

It feels hard to choose a favourite because there were so many incredible films which affected me in different ways like Coda, How it Ends, Flee, and honestly most of the films I saw in this year's festival . However, I fell in love with The World to Come when it wasn’t even a movie I initially planned on seeing.

The world to come felt like a poem. It made my heart ache deeply, marinating in feelings of melancholic love, and unexpected loss. Maybe it hit me especially hard because I lost one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had in my life along with family and pets (since they are family too) since the start of Covid: I have regrets and things I never got to say. Maybe it’s because I’m fiercely fighting with my own identities right now. Either way, it was hard to watch. Parts of it still haunt me and still leave me breathless on the brink of tears. It struck a chord in me which I have a hard time fully putting to words. I didn’t originally even want to watch this film, it somehow ended up on my list of on demand films, and my mom convinced me to watch it (and I’m so glad she did).

It is a story which about two women which takes place in the 1800s, together in their loneliness who fall for each other behind their husbands’ backs. They secretly rendezvous in the forest and tucked away corners of their homes when their husband’s are working. It is beautiful in story and dialogue; it doesn’t get stale. It feels modern somehow, though it is set in the 19th century, and I’m still processing it all to figure out why exactly.

Least Favorite Film from the Festival...

Eight for Silver by Sean Ellis wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen, but it was certainly not the best; I would not actively choose to watch this again. It had interesting concepts such as only natural lighting being used throughout the film and those turned into the werewolf emerging, negatively changed, from the dead animal. The movie would have gotten 4 stars rather than 3 from me simply by not having a CGI werewolf (unless it was so brilliantly terrifying and amazing it had to be shown) and by keeping the original plot of the Roma’s spells/curses (fueled from the massacre which the targeted village caused). The scarecrow and buried teeth, and the strange dreams which followed were such a great piece, but they just fell away more and more. The addition of the religious text (which mentions 30 pieces of silver is unnecessary, and just recycles old vampire movies/myth ) took this film from a great timepiece and cheapened it in combination with the subpar CGI creature, while also making it feel far too Hollywood in a bad way. Again, some of the ideas, like the person within the wolf were great, but they could have kept it that way and not shown the monster otherwise.

A list of All Feature Films I Saw:

During the 2021 Sundance film festival I have seen and rated the following:

Coda ***** Sian Heder

The story of a teenage hearing girl who wants to be a singer living with her otherwise deaf family who run a fishing boat.

Cryptozoo **** Dash Shaw

A woman’s attempt to protect mythical creatures in a world where everyone wants to harm them or use them as weapons.

Misha and the wolves ***** Sam Hobkinson

A chilling documentary about holocaust tale with a twist.

Users **** Natalia Amada

A mother’s view of the world, global warming, technology, her children and the relationship between all of this.

Prisoners of Ghostland **** Sion Sono

Samurai meets the gunslinger Western World in this colourful action-horror (featuring Nicholas Cage).

Censor **** Prano Bailey-Bond

The story of a woman whose sister disappeared as a child and how her job as a horror film censor helps her uncover the truth.

How it ends ***** Daryl Wein, Zoe Lister-Jones

A walk through the last day on Earth with a woman and her younger self as they make peace with their lives, relationships with others, and their own inner selves.

Strawberry Mansion ***** Dan Deacon

A dreamy/nightmarish surreal tale of a dream tax collector as he falls in love with the younger version of his client.

Cusp ***** Isabel Bethencourt, Parker Hill

A documentary on the lives of teen girls in Texas which delves into rape culture, poverty, and what it’s like to be a young woman.

Eight for Silver *** Sean Ellis

Werewolf lore set in the 19th century.

John and the Hole **** Pascual Sisto

A young teenage boy puts his family in a hole in the woods as he tries to deal with the stressors of being a kid and what adulthood holds, entwined with fable.

R#J ***** Carey Williams

A modern retelling of Shakespear’s Romeo and Juliet through the age of social media, with a twist or two.

Coming Home in the Dark ***** James Ashcroft

A horror story of a family who are abducted by two strangers who they later learn they share a deeper, darker history with.

We’re All Going to The World’s Fair **** Jane Schoenbrun

A showing of loneliness and desperation through an online roleplaying game and it’s after effects.

First Date **** Manuel Crosby, Darren Knapp

A story of a first date gone VERY wrong.

The World to Come ***** Mona Fastvold

A 19th century story of the growing connection between two farmhouse wives.

Violation ***** Madeleine Sims-Fewer, Dusty Mancinelli

A film about a woman’s trauma and how she… Deals with it.

Marvelous and the Black Hole ***** Kate Tsang

A story about how a young teen girl gets through the loss of her mother through forming a connection with a local magician.

The Blazing World ***** Carlson Young

A traumatised young woman tries to bring her sister back from “the other side” but must really fight her own inner demons.

Mayday ***** Karen Cinorre

A story of a young woman overcoming trauma and fighting back against the man in a dreamlike state.

Night of the Kings **** Philippe Lacote

A new storyteller is anointed in a prison run by its inmates and he must keep telling these stories until the moon sets to stay alive. (It helps to understand the specific culture more with this one, otherwise it sort of goes over your head.)

Life in a Day 2021 ***** Kavin Macdonald

A grounding compilation of scenes from across the world on the same day, July 25th, with scenes one after the other which either connect or contrasted in an impactful way.

Flee ***** Jonas Poher Rasmussen

A biography told through animation of a young gay immigrant.

Short Films

Bj’s Mobile Gift Shop- Jason Park

A story of a young guy in Chicago who makes money to support himself and his grandparents by running a mobile gift shop out of a large suitcase.

Flex - Josefin Malmen, David Strindberg

A visual telling of a bodybuilder rubber-banding between insecurity and self obsession through surreal imagery and dialogue.

The Affected- Rikke Gregersen

A retelling of a college student preventing the deportation of a man back to Afghanistan through the interactions of the bystanders.

You Wouldn’t Understand- Trish Harnetiaux

A time-warp involving a picnic, a strange character looking for “horsey sauce” and a grocery store clerk armed with a food scanner.

Animations

Ghost Dogs- Joe Cappa

A family's new dog is “haunted” by the family’s many deceased dogs in squishy colourful 90s/early 2000s style animated short.

GNT- Sara Hirner, Rosemary Vasquez-Brown

A woman obsessed with social media tries to make yeast infections popular.

Trepanation- Nick Flaherty

A showing of depression through a disturbing hole ridden entity emerging from a hole and taking the place of the house's owner.

Little Miss Fate- Joder Von Rotz

A cleaning bird interrupts the fate of a couple going out on a date, leading to disastrous consequences.

Indie Series

I had really wanted to see Seeds of Deceit by Miriam Guttman and Would you Rather by Lise Akoka, (I tried viewing 4 Feet High by María Belén Poncio and Rosario Perazolo Masjoan but there was an issue which Sundance staff never got back to me about, sadly) but I ran out of time.

However, I did see These Days by Adam Brookes which takes place in New York City during Covid, showing a young woman living alone and how she survives living alone and being unable to work as a dancer.

New Frontier Experiences

Sadly, I kept thinking I’d have endless time. I did not engage in the New Frontier experience except for in class on one occasion. I think it was a great idea and fantastic opportunity and I regret not planning my time better for this specifically.

Talks or Events

Ignite x Adobe featured shorts films from artists aged 18 to 25 and was very inspiring since I’m in the age range of these artists.

A few I especially enjoyed were Vigincita, Personals, and Joychild (Although I honestly enjoyed the whole compilation).

Virgincita - A sexual coming of age/ look at mother daughter relationship mixed with religion.

Personals - A sexual encounter between two insecure individuals who find comfort with one another by the end.

Joychild - A documentary piece showing a child discovering and opening up about their gender identity.

Q&As

I attended a few Q&As, but my favourite I believe was CODA’s.

They spoke about how they worked around language barriers and learned sign language before and throughout production. Everyone just seemed at ease and like they had a great time in production of the film.

- - -

Overall, I’m quite pleased with how this festival went virtually. It was a truly amazing experience which I am so glad I was able to take part in. It was as Immersive an experience as I think could be created virtually and seemed to go relatively smoothly for the most part for having it be the first time this has happened.

I’m also extremely grateful for the inclusivity which allowed for those who may not be able to travel as easily due to disability, financial reasons, or anything else. I don’t know if I’d have been able to go otherwise.

This experience was more amazing than I even hoped it would be. I feel so inspired that I plan to find out how to submit to Sundance so that I can possibly try to get a short film idea I have done for the short film/18-25 year old category. I feel like I can actually do this now and I have so many new ideas.

Thank you!

Tryon, Chuck,

On-Demand Culture: Digital Delivery and the Future of Movies

Mae McCloskey

#sundance sundance2021 sundancefilmfestival indie indiefilm

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iknaq · 7 years ago

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May Your Days Be Merry And Bright

A quick WinterShieldShock short. Something has been bothering Darcy and no matter what they did, Bucky and Steve hadn’t been able to get her spirits up for Christmas.

Seeing Darcy down was breaking his heart but when Steve started getting down for not being able to cheer her up, it was too much.

‘Come on, Stevie. I’m sure we can figure something out. Jane is going to be back later today, Wanda and Storm have been helping her bake all the wonderful delicious goodies, hell...even Lang got her to join in on karaoke earlier.’

‘I know but she’s still not happy, Buck and it’s killing me.’

‘I know, punk, me too.’

‘Any word from Nat?’

‘Not yet, she should be back at any minute though.’

‘Okay, well...just let me know if you see her before I do.’

Bucky sighed in frustration as Steve wandered down the hall of the palace and all he could see was that little punk with his shoulders hunched over, looking like he went a few rounds and lost. The man that could go all day was worn down with worry because their little hellion had been subdued and withdrawn recently.

It had all started on the first day of Hanukkah: Darcy had told them how she didn’t remember all the blessings but she’d had a lot of fond memories of her Bubbe growing up and lamented the fact that she didn’t have her menorah to at least mark the days. He still wasn’t sure how he’d found out or where it came from but his royal highness, T’Challa procured a menorah from somewhere and Darcy had been looking a little brighter. That lasted several days but the closer they got to Christmas, the sadder she’d looked. Now it was Christmas Eve and she’d been moping all day, despite their best efforts she was still missing that spark in her eyes.

Darcy had been actively avoiding Wanda or singing lyrics in her head, leaving Wanda to think there was something she didn’t want to slip. Nat was out on a mission so she couldn’t get it out of their girl what was up. And any time he or Steve tried to bring it up, she’d just plaster on a smile and assure them that she was fine.

‘Bucky!’

He tensed when Wanda came running over but the smile she gave him had the former Winter Soldier relaxing and looking at the redhead curiously.

‘I know what’s bothering Darcy.’

‘Let’s grab Stevie.’

‘I think, that for this we will need Ororo...my Queen, what is it that they say...do you feel like spreading a little Christmas cheer?’

She tried, she really tried.

Despite the fact that they were in hiding, the past year had been nothing short of amazing. She’d grown to love Steve and Bucky. The Wakandan scientists had been able to remove the triggers from Bucky’s brain. Thor and Jane were on a break, so that was a big old bummer, but they were still getting along and she’d even volunteered to scope out some planets with Thor to help find a good place for the Asagardians. Thor was still the best bro and even had a wicked eye patch, she couldn’t help but make a joke about wanting a picture of him and Fury for Christmas. Sam had been teaching her how to fly. Nat and Wanda became sisters like Jane somewhere along the way. Lang taught her how to pick a lock. And his royal cat-ness was super chill and took care of the ragtag band of super heroes. All in all, things were going pretty good.

So, she totally didn’t have a leg to stand on to feel this bummed out. T’Challa had gotten her a beautiful menorah and Wanda had helped her remember the blessings. Steve and Bucky had even told them tales about the family that lived in the building with them and surprised them with some gelt the one year. Nat had promised to pick up the boys Christmas presents on her way back and Jane and Thor promised some crazy alien wine to help get the guys tipsy. They’d made allllll the cookies and candies and treats with a freakin Queen (Seriously, Storm could slay at anything she wanted and look stunning the whole time, total lady crush). Even Lang had been cheery after talking with Cassie and usually singing with him helped cheer her up anytime but it just wasn’t doing it right now.

She missed snow.

It was Christmas and it was sunny and warm and just totally did not feel right. They’d gotten a tree and decorated their wing and everything but it just wasn’t the same.

Maybe she’d feel better after a nap.

Steve held his breath when he saw her start to stir, the timing of her nap had been fortuitous and the royal highnesses had been so kind as to indulge in their plan.

Bucky had gone to intercept Nat and tell her the plan, leaving him to wake her.

Maybe it was a little cheesy, the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby echoing through the halls but Darcy had told them that was one of her favorite movies (they’d already watched it three times and Die Hard even more than that, with Scott and Sam arguing whether or not it counted as a Christmas movie) and it just felt right.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...

‘Steve?’

His heart stopped just like it did any time one of them blinked their baby blue’s at him and he couldn’t stop himself from crawling into bed and giving her a soft kiss.

‘Hey, sleepyhead. Nat is back, we were just about to wake you for dinner. T’Challa said that he was going to introduce us to one of his favourite pre-holiday meals from when he went to school in America.’

‘Mmmm, okay, sounds good. Hey...I’m sorry I’ve been such a bummer. I love you. You too, Mr Super Assassin, I can see you there...’

‘The greatest assassins and spies and superheroes in the world had a hard time finding me, how is it that you always seem to know where I am, doll?’

‘How could I not? I can always feel my boys...right here in this big ol heart, cause I’m that good and stuff.’

He couldn’t help but get slightly distracted as she patted her rather magnificent chest, flushing when Bucky cuffed him upside the head lightly.

‘Stick to the plan, idiot.’

‘Plan?’

‘Yeah, come on, may we walk you to dinner?’

‘Why, of course.’

The three of them walked arm in arm from their room, Darcy giving them an odd look when they started to veer towards the courtyard.

‘It’s such a nice night, thought we might take a different route.’

‘What are you guys planning? You know you totally suck at hiding things Steve, that cute Irish skin of yours blushes all pretty.’

He couldn’t stop the flush that started up his collar but when they stepped through the arches and towards the courtyard, her slackjawed surprise was enough to distract him.

She stepped out into the soft powder with a look of childlike wonder and Bucky grinned as he wrapped his arm around his waist. He wasn’t quite sure how a kid from Brooklyn got so lucky but he couldn’t stop his own grin.

‘How?’

‘Well, her majesty just happens to be able to control the weather and when we told her what was up, she was more than happy to help cheer you up. You should have told us sooner, Darce...I hated seeing you so down.’

‘I just...I didn’t want to complain, things have been as good as they can be and even better. It just seemed like such a silly thing...’

‘Doll, we would fetch you the moon if you asked.’

It had taken a while but that smooth, confident, smartass Steve remembered had started to come back and damn if he didn’t make him and Darcy speechless from time to time. Darcy pulled them each into a sweet kiss and Buck snuck one in between the two of them, making them all laugh as their noses bumped.

‘Smooth, medvezhonok. I got that all on camera, can we eat now? Snowman and cocoa after.’

‘Tash!’

‘Come, solnyshko. The boys told me you have been down.’

‘I was but I’m good now...now it feels like Christmas. Thank you, your majesty, thank you so so much.’

‘I told you, just call me Storm and I was happy to be able to bring that smile to your face. Come, the food is getting cold.’

It was an odd sight. Super soldiers, gods, royalty, master assassins, scientists and a former intern relaxing around a giant table eating Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve in Wakanda but Wanda could feel the happiness and love radiating in the room.

Somewhere along the way, they had become family and that was the best thing so far about her first Christmas without Pietro.

She smirked a little and used her power to shape some snowballs while they sat there, wondering how many of them she could get once they were done with the food.

#mcu #mcu au #marvel #wintershieldshock #bucky barnes #steve rogers #darcy lewis #my writing

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geekade · 7 years ago

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The ABCs of the Stanley Cup Finals, 2017 Style

Hi there, fellow Geekade enthusiasts. I know you’ve gotten used to seeing me share my opinions about the latest in film and television, but this month, with apologies to my good friend and fellow Geekade writer Dave Diorio, I’m taking a break to write about the greatest sports events on earth. No, not March Madness, the NBA Finals, The Super Bowl, The Masters, The Triple Crown, The World Cup, The Olympics or even the World Series. Those are all worthy events, but they cannot match the absolute excitement and nail biting grind that takes place on a frozen stretch of ice in April and May every year. Without a doubt, the greatest sport tournament is the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

This year has been no exception. While the NBA playoffs have literally felt like a two-month slog in the muck that lead to a championship series that every single basketball fan on Earth KNEW would happen, this year’s Stanley Cup playoffs have been absolutely thrilling. The number of games that were either won in overtime or by one goal has been astounding. And for our dessert in the Stanley Cup Finals? We have a potential repeat champion, the dynasty-in-the-making Pittsburgh Penguins facing off against what has to be the feel good story in all of hockey, the Nashville Predators and their city’s explosion as a honkey-tonk, hockey-loving town.

So, dear reader, to help you fully embrace the excitement and immerse yourself in the Cup-Craziness to unfold, here are the ABCs of the 2017 Stanley Cup Playoffs.

A is for… Advantage, as in a man advantage. Hockey is the only sport that routinely has one of the players sit in a penalty box if they commit a penalty on the ice. (Alright, settle down soccer fans. Yes, your sport can lose a man too, but it’s not a routine function of the game. It only happens when a guy gets tossed. And besides, I included the World Cup up above. Take a seat and sing your team’s drinking song.) Watch this final series for man advantages. At the time of this writing, we’ve already had a controversial 5 on 3, which turned the tide of Game 1.

B is for… Beards, as in the playoff beard. Hockey players are notoriously tough athletes. It is not uncommon for a player to get cut or lose teeth by a stray stick in a collision, get stitched up in the locker room, and then come back out to get back into the game. As a point of reference, in my beloved Philadelphia, we have two star basketball players who sat out for a year (or two) with injuries that should have healed in far less time. For lack of a better term, hockey players are lunatics. So is it any wonder that there’s a tradition of growing beards for the playoffs? As if we need another reminder that these guys are burly he-men? By the time the Stanly Cup is awarded, it’s like looking at a team full of the Brawny Towel guys.

C is for… Crosby, as in Sid the Kid, a.k.a. Sidney Crosby. Point of disclosure. I am a Philadelphia fan. (Ok, you can stop laughing now. I mean it.) And it is a tradition that Philadelphia fans absolutely abhor the players on the opposing teams who have talent. And who whine. Players like Larry Bird. Michael Irvin. Kobe Bryant. Bryce Harper. And Sid Crosby. To keep my Philly cred, I have to say that Sid is a crybaby. Truth be told? He’s also one of the best, if not THE best player in the world. He is a force on the ice, and the bigger the game, the more likely it is that he will be a huge part of it. The Penguins are not THE PENGUINS without him. Count on Crosby scoring a huge goal in an important game in this series.

D is for… Day with the Cup. In what is one of the greatest traditions in all of sports, every player on the Stanley Cup winning team is given a chance to take the Cup for 24 hours and do whatever they please with it (short of melting it down) under the watchful eye of a chaperone with the greatest job ever (more on him later). There are amazing stories of players who have take the cup to their hometown where they grew up, players who have their children baptized in the cup, players who take the cup fishing, sailing, swimming, skydiving and, in one famous case (by a player who’s name rhymes with Lark Lessier) to a strip club where the dancer on stage worked the cup into her routine.

E is for… Emrick, as in Mike “Doc” Emrick, the primary NHL play by play man. For the uninitiated, listening to Doc Emrick call a playoff game is like listening to Verne Lundquist call an SEC overtime game between Alabama and Auburn or Gus Johnson call Duke versus North Carolina. You know how fans from around the country universally seem to dislike Joe Buck when he calls the NFL or the World Series? Yeah, that doesn’t happen with Doc Emrick. Coming back to hockey after a bout with cancer, Doc is now a hero to so many and is famous for his list of verbs to use to explain the different ways a puck can be moved up and down the ice.

F is for… Fish, as in Catfish. Hockey is a sport with some strange traditions. When a player scores three goals in a game, it’s called a hat trick. Why? In 1940, a haberdasher in Toronto offered free hats to players who scored three goals in a game. And so a legend was born. Today, when a player scores three in a game, fans litter the ice with hats. In Detroit, it’s been a long-standing tradition for the fans to throw an octopi on the ice in the playoffs. In 1996, the Florida Panthers got to the Stanley Cup Finals where at least once per game, fans would litter the ice with rubber toy rats when the Panthers scored. This year, we can add a whole new take on the “throwing stuff on the ice” thing. Nashville fans are now throwing catfish on the ice. Why is this perfect? For one, it absolutely trolls the Detroit tradition – Detroit has long been a tormentor of Predator fans. Second, is there any more perfect aquatic creature than a catfish to represent a team in the heart of the south? Third and last, a fan from Nashville got a ticket to see Game One in Pittsburgh, drove the 560 or so miles to Pittsburgh, vacuum-packed a dead catfish doused in Old Spice so it wouldn’t smell, taped it to his leg under his pants, took it out of his pants and threw it out onto the ice during the game, much to the dismay of the Penguin faithful. Love this game.

G is for… Goalie. Quarterback. Closer. Goalie. The three most pressure packed positions in all of sports. Stanley Cups have been won by teams with inferior talent simply because they had a goalie playing at the top of his game, or to use a hockey euphemism, “standing on his head.” In May of 1974, my Philadelphia Flyers beat the Boston Bruins in six games in what was considered to be one of the greatest upsets in all of hockey history. Why? Because we had the best goalie in the world at that moment – a lovable French Canadian named Bernie Parent. To this day, 43 years later, I doubt highly that Bernie Parent has ever had to buy a drink in the City of Brotherly Love. The goalie makes or breaks your team. And the Stanley Cup finals are a pressure cooker for goalies. Grab your popcorn!

H is for… Hockeytown, a name sports writers gave Detroit at the height of their greatness in the 1950s. When Detroit returned to hockey prominence and won the Stanley Cup in 1997 (against my Flyers…) the name was reborn as the team won a series of cups after that. Why is that significant to these finals? I would argue that both of these teams could contend for the title of Hockeytown right now. Pittsburgh has a chance to be the first team to repeat as Stanley Cup champions since the Red Wings did it 1997 and 1998. They are, for all practical intentions, a dynasty. And in a city where the Steelers are like a religion, the Penguins have become the biggest story in the city of three rivers. And if Nashville wins? Well, that city is off the hook for this team. More on that later.

I is for… Icing. When a team dumps the puck all the way down the ice to escape intense pressure, icing is called. It’s significant because the team that dumps the puck has to now survive a face-off in their own zone and they’re not allowed to send in any new players to replace the tired skaters on the ice. In the old days, players would race down the ice to decide whether icing would be called; if the team that dumped the puck touched it first, the icing would be waived off. That rule was changed because…well…hockey players would beat the hell out of each other to race to the puck. Maybe they needed to save it for another part of the game. But they’re hockey players. You know…lunatics.

J is for… Jinx. Professional athletes are notorious for being superstitious. An interesting superstition in hockey is that players who have not won the cup can’t EVER touch the cup. Even when NHL players are in the presence of the Cup, they dare not touch it. When the Staal brothers (Marc, Jordan and Jared) were celebrating with their brother Eric who had just won the Cup in 2006 with the Hurricanes, none of them would lay a finger on the Cup - even though it was right in front of them. If you play in the NHL, you just don’t touch the Cup until it’s yours. Another famous jinx followed the New York Rangers. In 1940, when they won the Stanley Cup, one of the players on the team…relieved himself, so to speak…in the cup. The Rangers would not win another Stanley Cup until 1994. Baseball had the curse of the Great Bambino and the Billy Goat. Hockey has the piss cup. (Bah dum bum.)

K is for… the Keeper of the Cup. When players get their Day with the Cup, one man goes from town to town and place to place with the cup. His name is Phillip Pritchard, and he stays with the cup at all times. So, when players travel to the tops of mountains to have their picture taken with the cup, he goes along. When players take the cup to their hometowns or high schools or to pediatric cancer wards, he goes along. When players have their children baptized in the cup, he attends the service. And when Mark Messier, or rather Lark Lessier, takes it to Scores in Manhattan, he goes along. Phillip Pritchard: The luckiest guy with white gloves and a dust rag you’ve ever met.

L is for… Lord Stanley, a.k.a. Frederick Arthur Stanley, the 16th Earl of Darby, was the governor general of Canada in the late 1800s. Because his sons were hockey players, he donated a cup to be competed for by all of the amateur teams in Canada in 1892. Soon after, the cup became the trophy sought by professional teams, and in 1926, the Stanley Cup became the official championship trophy for the National Hockey League.

M is for… Montreal, the home of the Les Habitants, the Bleu-Blanc-Rouge, a.k.a. the Montreal Canadiens. The Montreal Canadiens have won the Stanley Cup more than any other team, a record 24 times. Interestingly enough, Montreal is also the last Canadian team to win the Stanley Cup since 1993, which is a sore spot for anyone who comes from Canada. (Trust me, eh.)

N is for… Nashville, the newest team to the Stanley Cup finals party. Let’s see. A game adored by Canadians. Played on ice. What city in the lower 48 would be a great host? Well, if you thought anyone would have chosen Nashville, you probably would have laughed. But who’s laughing now? The Nashville Predators have become the city’s greatest draw; packing in fans in what is the greatest party on ice. The Predators have a house band. They have a crazy tradition of throwing catfish on the ice. They have a bonkers mascot who rides an ATV on the ice. And in the heart of the deep south, in SEC and NASCAR territory, the Predators now boast a legion of stars who cheer on the Preds. Vince Gill, Amy Grant, Keith Urban, Trisha Yearwood, Kelly Clarkson, Paramore, Marcus Mariota, Kings of Leon, Lady Antebellum and Carrie Underwood are all fanatical followers. Besides the Grand Ole Opry, and the clubs on Broadway, Bridgestone Arena is the place to be.

O is for the Ottawa Canal. Remember that “day with the cup” thing? After a night of celebrating their Stanley Cup victory in 1905, members of the Ottawa Silver Seven felt it necessary to see if one of them could kick the Cup into the Ottawa Canal. One of the players actually connected and the cup was sent to the bottom of the canal, where it stayed until the next day when the players, having sobered up, realized where they had left it.

P is for… Pittsburgh, the home of the Penguins and what is now hockey’s reigning dynasty. If you think Pittsburgh is the “Steel City” with a working class population, you would be right. If you think of Pittsburgh as a city in decline with closed steel mills, you would be dead wrong. Pittsburgh has reinvented itself over the past 20 years and turned itself into a leading city in technology, business and medicine. And Pittsburgh is now as strongly identified with the Penguins as they are with the Steelers.

Q is for… Quick Whistle. The most dangerous places in sports have to be the opening turn of the Indianapolis 500, the starting gate of a triple-crown race, a goal line stand in the fourth quarter and in hockey, the front of the net in the last five minutes of a close game. It is not for the faint of heart. Sticks flying. Players punching. And a rule that says as long as the referee can see the puck, the game is still live. Watch for quick whistles by the referees when the action seems about to boil over into actual violence.

R is for… Rinne, a.k.a. Pekka Rinne, the extraordinary goalie for the Nashville Predators. He has been stealing games throughout the playoffs (standing on his head). His goals against average is under 2, which is outstanding, and he has two playoff shutouts so far. His success will determine whether Nashville can challenge the mighty Penguins.

S is for Subban, a.k.a. P.K. Subban, defenseman extraordinaire. Subban was a stalwart defender with a cannon slapshot who was traded to the Predators this year and has been a steady leader for this up and coming team.

T is for… Trapezoid. Hey, wait a minute. I didn’t know there was going to be any math on this thing. Well, if you look closely at the ice behind the net, you will see a red outlined trapezoid. It’s there because it’s the only place where a goalie can go behind the net to control the puck.

U is for… Underwood, as in Carrie Underwood. The singing of the national anthems of both Canada and the United States is a truly emotional moment. In one memorable game, the PA system broke down in Edmonton and the fans sang the AMERICAN National Anthem, a.k.a. NOT their own anthem, perfectly word for word. Try to catch Lauren Hart sing God Bless America before Flyers’ games, or the anthem before games in Chicago and Boston. But topping them all right now is country music superstar Carrie Underwood who has upped the ante of memorable anthems in Nashville.

V is for… Video Goal Judge. Hockey has turned to technology to make sure goals that are scored are legitimate. Quick story. In 1980, my Flyers lost the final game of a hotly contested Stanley Cup final to the New York Islanders. There were two separate goals scored in that final game which would have been disallowed if we had a video goal judge then. (Curse you, Leon Stickle…) Should I mention the final goal scored by the Blackhawks against my same Flyers team in 2010 from a seemingly impossible angle (which may or may not have gone through the side of the goal and not the front)? Let’s move on and hope that the Video Goal Judge doesn’t play too large a part in determining the outcome of a game. (Although for game one, that wish has already been broken.)

W is for… Wraparound. In hockey terms, when a player flies around the net with the puck and tries to tuck it into the other side of the goal. See: Sidney Crosby.

X is for… Extra Time, a.k.a. Overtime. During the regular season, hockey games are settled with a brief overtime period with three players going against three for five minutes, followed by a soccer style shootout if there isn’t a winner. It’s not the greatest way to settle a game. But in the playoffs, they play until there is a winner. Period. My Flyers beat the Penguins in 2000 in a game that went 5 overtime periods after the regular three. And what’s even better, there aren’t may breaks in the action. In the first three periods, there are planned “TV” timeouts. In overtime, they don’t follow that pattern. The game flies by. Playoff overtime hockey is as good as it gets for excitement and heart-stopping action.

Y is for… Yinzers, a term of endearment for anyone who hails from Pittsburgh. It comes from the “Pittsburghese” accent. If you’re lucky enough to attend the finals in person in Pittsburgh (hopefully with OUT a catfish doused in Old Spice strapped to your leg), you might hear people use this term. Yinzer seems to be a term Pittsburgh residents like to call each other, but they might not like it so much if an outsider calls them the same. Use at your own risk.

Z is for… Zamboni, the name of the machine that “cleans” the ice between periods. It was also the nickname my team gave me when I was playing pick-up hockey when I was a kid. Maybe it was because I spent more time lying on the ice rather than actually skating.

And so, there you have it. Enjoy the Stanley Cup finals. Embrace the craziness of the Predators’ fans. Admire the true talent skating for the Penguins. And remember that you need to shave those playoff beards once the last game is over.

#sports #Sports #articles

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ariahearthockey · 5 years ago

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Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 4

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

_/_/_/_/

Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 4

Out of public's knowledge, Sidney has another set of routine being done at home on every game day. It is the routine before the widely known routine that is done at the rink. It consist of an hour nap right after lunch, a shower, followed by a thirty minute meditation and excessive tape watching until he can point out all of the opponent's strengths and weaknesses. But that is just him. He isn't sure if Geno has one and he respects the privacy of one's quirks enough to not ask Geno about it. So basically he doesn't know what Geno does when he leaves the rink after practice.

Of all things Sidney would have guessed, he definitely didn’t see Geno eating himself into a piroshki coma on a game day. After they left the rink, Geno made a stop at one of his favourite Russian restaurant and got himself something of two dozens of them in various fillings.

"Wow, G. That's a lot of—" Sidney has to say something as Geno stuffs the last piece into his mouth.

"Mmm.. Sid have pasta, I'm have piroshki." Geno huffs in between munch, and huffs and Sidney wonders if their nutritionist knew about this.

"Oh no, I'm not judging. I'm just a little concern. Like, are you okay? Do you need someone to rub your belly?"

"Sid need practice. Chirps still terrible."

Sidney stands to get the dirty dishes to the sink, all the while chuckling at Geno.

"So, this is your routine, eh? Or do you have more?

"Not as many as you, for sure. But some we do together."

"Really? So what? After you demolished those piroshki, we burn it out with hot kinky sex marathon?"

He doesn't know why he said that, or does he know anything else because that was one of the very few times when his mouth runs faster than his brain, and he blames it on the concussion. He could easily play it out as some casual chirp that means nothing if he doesn't feel his own cheeks burn. He is sure his blush tells the same level of embarrassment he feels internally when Geno stares at him like he has just spoken the forbidden word. Then it dawns on him.

"Oh. Um, I mean, yeah. We're married and married couple have sex all the time but that doesn't mean we do that as part of our routine, right? I mean, I was just trying to be funny, you know? Because you devoured all those calories and what better way to sweat it all out than some vigorous round of—"

He stops and winces at his choice of word and finds himself get all the more flustered when Geno gives him a sly grin, clearly enjoying seeing Sidney digging himself a hole. "Not that it immediately meant sex. I mean, of course not. There are other forms of workout that two people can do together that doesn't involve taking their clothes off or—"

"We do that many times, Sid."

"Wh—what?"

"Have sex with clothes on. And we have sex before marry too. Many times."

He should not be so flabbergasted at the mention of sex at his age. "Oh wow, okay." Absolutely not. "Um, that's—

"One time we late for practice, I'm give handjob until Sid come in boxers."

"Oh, God."

"Then sometime Sid tease a lot, I'm fuck Sid with pants down over couch."

A wave of arousal crashes over him and he finds himself getting hard in his pants. He should feel ashamed by the sort of response his body has from Geno's implications.

"Okay. So we um—we need to—"

"Sid."

He looks up promptly when he hears his name and is instantly caught in the depths of Geno's brown orbs. How did he get so close so fast?

"Sid think too much, brain not rest." Geno taps a finger to Sidney's temple before he slides his hand down to cup Sidney's flushed face. He leans into Geno's touch when Geno rubs soothing circles onto his heated cheeks. "I'm not force Sid. If Sid not remember, how I'm do?"

Sidney gulps visibly. "But—but if it's the routine—"

"No, Sid. We not fuck before game. You say too much distract from game." Geno moves his free hand down to his neck while murmuring those words in his ear. Sidney gasps softly as the burst of warm breath sends a tingling sensation down his spine.

With his renewed bravery fuelled by his waking arousal, he asks, "Then, what about after?"

Geno grunts and pushes Sidney back until the edge of the kitchen counter is digging into his ass. "I'm try be gentleman but Sid always make hard for me."

"Geno—"

He is cut off when Geno charges forward and kisses him with fervent, with an intensity that he has never known before. It is bruisingly delicious—all the licking and battling of tongues is making Sidney breathless and dizzy with want. And when Geno pulls on his bottom lip in between his teeth and sucks on the plump flesh, Sidney is hit with a strong current of desire that makes his hips buck forward on its own accord. Sidney lets out a broken, whiny noise when his own erection comes in contact with the obvious hard bulge, and it blows Sidney's mind to know that Geno is just as affected by the kiss as he is.

"Geno, do you want—"

Geno breaks their kiss and rears back, leaving a heady Sidney chasing after it. He opens his eyes and sees an equally flustered Geno, gasping for breath.

"Sid, we need to stop." Geno says desperately. His eyes—completely darkened with lust—drop down to Sidney's mouth and his finger comes up to trace the seam of the swollen lip.

"Yeah, we need—we need to stop." Sidney echoes Geno's words in a stutter whilst trying to catch Geno's mouth into another round of head-spinning kiss.

"Mmm, no, Sid. We uh—we can't." Geno grits out and pushes Sidney away with much reluctance. Sidney is confused by the mixed messages and seeing the pained look on Geno's face makes him jump back a little. In a minute window of clarity, he is crushed by the weight of his own stupidity. He chides himself for getting too caught up in his own feeling to see that Geno is trying to let him down easy.

"Oh. Okay. You're right. I'm—I'm sorry. This is probably a bad idea and I'd totally understand if you don't—"

"No, no. Sid. I'm not mean that. I'm want you, but we have game.." Geno let that trail off to its obvious conclusion. As clueless as he is sometimes, the indication is dawning clear and it makes him feel good again.

"Oh. The routine. Right. Superstitions." Sidney bites down on his lips in the hopes of salvaging himself from sounding more like an inarticulate fool. For some reason, that makes Geno dips back down and kisses him with a deep, throaty groan, and once again steals all his breath away.

"Sid drive me crazy. Bite lip and look so beautiful."

Sidney's breath hitches in his throat and his eyes flutter close. "God, you need to stop saying things like that if you don't want to break routine, G."

Geno leans back for the sake of giving both of them some breathing room, and takes long, deep breaths to calm himself. "I'm go out for run now, then shower, then nap. We watch tape after, yes?"

"Yeah," Sidney says, nodding at the same time. "We can do that."

And it is routine and more routine from then on. It becomes a comfortable setting for both of them, each minding their own quirks studiously. As promised, they go to the entertainment room later in the afternoon and binge on their previous games with the Caps, and discuss game plays and strategies like the professionals they are. They flinch when the tape plays the hit on Sidney on repeat, capturing every detail from every angle and the slow motion makes it look ten times worse than it is.

"The guys, they all angry about hit. Want revenge."

There is a moment of silence before Sidney speaks. "Hey, I know you guys are angry about that but focus on what's important, okay? Please don't go around starting stupid shit because you know we're not gonna win the game from the box."

"I'm try but I'm no promise. Hard to control Horny."

Sidney laughs and secretly agrees with Geno. There is no stopping Horny from anything when he is all fired up because he has been proven to runs solely on intensity stemming from his loyalty to his team.

"Just win this one for me, eh?"

"I'm make sure. Score and make Holtby look bad goalie."

"Well, I'd like to see that for a change because in my head, it was a pretty frustrated game. I don't remember like the exact sequence of it, but we were like, outshot the entire time. We're lucky that Shultzy scored a late one in the third, I think it's a power play or something or else we're heading into overtime for sure."

Geno snickers at the mention of overtime because it is no fun and the pressure is too high.

"Oh wait, I think you get an assist from that goal, so there's something."

Geno scoffs at the subtle chirp, "Your head broken. I'm show you hat trick tonight."

Sidney wants nothing more than to kiss the stupid smug look away from Geno's face but he isn't sure if he is capable of stopping once he get started. So, he settles on something else instead.

"Yeah, put your money where your mouth is, G."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

Geno uncaps the new bottle of Gatorade and down half of it in several gulps, and then they are back to tape watching and serious hockey talk until it is time to get to the rink for one interesting game with the Caps, sans a concussed Sidney Crosby.

_/_/_/_/

#sidgeno #fanfiction #men's hockey rpf #Love Me If You Will #ariahearthockeywrites

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an-unknown-writers-world · 5 years ago

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White Christmas

Day Twenty-One: Favorite Christmas Movie

Part of @panicfob 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: None

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First Person, nameless)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1435

A/N: If you’ve never seen White Christmas or Holiday Inn, you are definitely missing out. If you’ve missed any of this series, it can be found here – Masterlist. As always, thanks for reading.

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“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bucky worried.

I nodded, “I’m sure. I think I’m just exhausted, it’s been a long month.”

He had just come back to the bedroom to shower after a long morning workout, normally by now I had gotten up and was dressed. But the exhaustion and nausea I felt yesterday afternoon hadn't seemed to subside any.

“What can I do?” He asked.

“Nothing, babe. Really, I’m fine. I just need to sleep a little longer.” I assured him. “Go take your shower.”

He bent down and kissed my forehead.

I shuffled in the bed, pulling the blankets further up. Before I knew it I had drifted back to sleep.

** A few hours later **

I felt the bed dip beside me and began to stir awake. Bucky’s felt my forehead with the back of his hand before smoothing my hair. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep this time, but it still didn’t feel like long enough. His hand came to rest in the crook of my neck, cradling my face.

“Mmmm,” I hummed out.

“I brought you banana toast,” He spoke softly, “my mom used to make it from me when I was little.”

It warmed my heart that he was trying to recreate things that made him feel better. It sounded disgusting, but I could try it, for him.

“I also made you tea. I’m sure I didn’t put enough sugar or milk in it.”

I moved to sit up, “I’m sure you did fine,” I smiled.

Leaning forward I rested my forehead against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my side. His hand slowly moved up and down my back in a soothing motion. I didn’t feel like I was going to puke, that was a first for the day.

“Do you wanna try and get up for a while?” He asked, “Come watching a movie or two?”

Pulling back so I could see his face, worry evident on it. “Christmas movies?” I asked in return.

He smiled, “I have a couple picked out.”

I nodded, “I’ll try. Will you take my tea and toast? I’m going to wash my face and come in.”

“Sure,” He kissed my forehead before standing up.

Heading into the bathroom I washed my face and brushed my teeth hoping all of it would help me feel at least a little bit better. I took the opportunity to change clothes also, taking on running shorts and one of Bucky’s t-shirts. Lastly, I ran a brush through my hair before making my way to the theater room.

The screen already had a movie queued up to start when I entered the room. Bucky sat on the edge of the front couch, waiting patiently with a mountain of blankets and pillows. He smiled as I came to sit on the couch next to him.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“A little, thank you.” I smiled back as I reached for the toast. “Please tell me this tastes better than it looks?”

He smiled and nodded, “Also, I picked a movie already. It’s an old one, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said taking a bite. “It’s not half bad,”

He smiled.

“What’s been going on while I was asleep?” I asked.

He told me a little bit of how things had gone. Pepper had hired cleaner to come in and deal with the mess from last night and Sam left with Maria for the weekend. He told me about his workout and how he tried to clean up around the house best as he could. When I finally finished the toast, he pulled a blanket off the side of the couch.

“Ready?” He asked.

“I’m pretty excited to see what you picked out.”

We situated on the couch so we could both be comfortable before he hit play. As soon as the red screen with holly on each side started, I knew exactly what movie it was. My face lit up with a smile that hurt my exhausted cheeks. This had been my favorite Christmas movie for as long as I could remember. It brought back many memories from my childhood.

The first few minutes played out and I watched closely until I couldn’t contain it anymore; I could not refrain from singing along with the movie. It was a popular song that it opened with, but I knew it from the movie.

“Have you seen this before?” Bucky asked with an eye crinkling smile.

“More times than I can count.” I beamed. “My grandma and I used to watch this and Holiday Inn every Thanksgiving to start our Christmas season.”

“So, it was a good choice?” Bucky seemed unsure.

“Perfect choice,” I stated. “Can we watch Holiday Inn after?”

He nodded, “I’d love to. I saw that movie on the big screen.”

I laughed, “Bing Crosby on the big screen, swoon.” I mocked.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly weird?” He joked.

“I mean, I’m in love with a man that is a century older than I am; so, I am very confident that statement doesn’t need to be spoken.” I laughed.

He leaned forward to kiss me. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Hmm, agree to disagree.”

I laughed and took hold of his hand.

“I've always wondered what Bing Crosby was like as a person. He’s so charismatic and multi-talented. He had to of either been one of the nicest and humble human being in the world or a total ass.” I mused.

“All things considered; he was a pretty good guy.”

My eyes shot open wide, “You met him?”

Bucky nodded, “December of 1944 in England.”

“Whoa, Christmas magic,” I mumbled.

He laughed, “something like that.”

We watched the movie play out and each of us sung along with the music as it came across. I couldn’t help the images that my mind conjured of the forties style dresses and going to shows with Bucky. Dressed to the nines, his Sergeant uniform and beautiful dress for myself. It sounded like a little piece of heaven if I was being honest.

“We should have a theme party for New Year’s,” I mumbled.

“What kind of theme?”

“Nineteen forties,” I smiled.

“Oh,”

“Bad oh or good oh?” His face was unreadable.

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Buck you can say no.”

“Maybe next year?” He asked.

“Deal.”

The movie continued to play, and I finally picked up the teacup. It wasn’t hot but it was still decently warm and was soothing to my still rough stomach. Bucky was right, he definitely didn’t put enough sugar in it, but it wasn’t awful. I wanted to ask a hundred questions about that era and what it was like. Could Bucky dance like Bing Crosby? Did he wish he could go back to the Army?

“Can you pause it for a minute please?” I asked Bucky, not waiting for a response.

I ran to the bathroom closing the door behind me. Thankfully I hadn’t eaten much so there wasn’t much to come back up. When I felt confident it had passed for the moment, I got up from the ground and brushed my teeth again.

“Doll?” Bucky knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

I opened the door and stared at him. “I think I’m dying.”

My theatrics made him smile.

“C’ mere,” He opened his arms.

Stepping into his embrace, I wrapped my arms around his lower back and laid my head against his chest. “I’m starting to think it’s not just exhaustion. I’ve been tired a lot in my life but never thrown up from it.”

“You sure it’s not something you’ve eaten?” He asked.

“No, it comes and goes too much to be food poisoning.”

“If you’re not better in a day or two, maybe we should call Banner.” He suggested.

“I’ll think about it.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Are you up for the last number?”

I chuckled, “As long as there is no expectation for me to dance, I think I can make it through.”

“I guess you’re off the hook for this one instance.” He teased.

He led me back to the theater room and we took a new position on the couch. He laid on his back across the couch and I settled between his legs, my head resting on his chest. We watched the rest of the movie and when it ended, we jumped straight into Holiday Inn; two of my favorite Christmas movies in one day. The best part? They seemed to be Bucky’s also.

*********************

A/N: For anyone who has put it together already, I know things don’t happen that fast, but for the sake of storytelling, it does in this case.

#panic's 25 days of christmas #25 days of christmas #A Very Marvel Christmas #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #An Unknown Writers World writes #An Unknown Writers World

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an-unknown-writers-world · 5 years ago

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Pretend The Rest Of The World Doesn’t Exist

Day Twenty-Two: Favorite Christmas Song

Part of @panicfob 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Cheese Alert- if you’re lactose sensitive, don’t read it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First Person, nameless)

Characters: Bucky Barnes,

Word Count: 921

A/N: The end is rapidly approaching, and it feels so bittersweet. Thank you for taking this journey with me. The beginning of this series can be found here – Masterlist.

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I stood over the kitchen counter with my nose buried in a book while I waited for the oven timer. Feeling better than I had the day before, I decided to make sticky bottoms for the guys to enjoy. Nausea still came and went, but I had at least been able to keep down saltines and yogurt, which was some major progress. Bucky was still worried and insistent on calling Banner if things didn’t change, so I was doing my best to avoid that. I knew it was because he cared, but his hovering was driving me up the wall. I told him I was going to bake, and he wasn’t allowed. He was disgruntled but understood, opting to go to the gym for a while.

The worst part of all this time in the kitchen was the way everything smelled, some of it delicious and others were stomach-turning. I wanted to eat everything in sight, but the thought of eating made me queasy. Peeking at the timer I saw there was still twenty minutes, I contemplated sitting down, but after a day and a half in bed, it felt kind of nice to stand.

Christmas music played in the background and I found myself swaying to the rhythm. It was hard not to reflect on what month it had been. So much had happened in such a short time, but it felt like it had been a lifetime. The song faded and Bing Crosby’s I’ll Be Home For Christmas began to play. I had always loved the song, it hit a special place in my soul. Closing my book, I closed my eyes taking in the words, just absorbing the feelings eluded from the song. A warm hand wound around my waist; I jumped initially before relaxing into his touch.

“You know one of these days you’re going to get hurt from sneaking up on me,” I warned.

“How? You refuse to train with me.” He countered kissing my shoulder.

I groaned, “Not that again.”

He smiled placing a gentle kiss to my neck. “I’m glad to see you up and moving.”

Turning around so I could face him, I smiled up at his disheveled hair. Clearly, he went hard in the gym. “I’ve never said this, and I don’t really mean it, but I hate this kitchen. Everything either makes me want to puke or I wanted to shovel it into my face.”

Bucky laughed, “What a problem to have.”

“It’s not funny, Barnes.” I poked his chest. “This feeling better go away soon. I just wish I knew what was causing it.”

He pulled me into him, and I laid my head on his chest. “Me too.” He kissed the top of my head.

These peaceful moments, the two of us standing this way, they were what I lived for these days.

“Dance with me,” Bucky said pulling back to look at me as the next song started. “Dance with me and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.” He smiled.

“Buck, I cannot dance. And I’m not just saying that to be modest. I have the rhythm of a sack of flour.”

He laughed, “Than let me lead.”

I groaned. “It’s not my fault if I step on your foot.”

Bucky smiled and took hold of my hand in his right one, his left hand coming to rest on my lower back. I don’t know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, didn’t happen. It was a simple sway, slow and matching the melody that played. I smiled up at him, thankful for the simple dance, making a mental note to ask him about dancing later.

Frank Sinatra’s Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas started as the other song faded away; it had been my favorite Christmas song for as long as I could remember. I couldn’t refrain from humming along with the words. Bucky pulled our clasped hands in between our chests, holding me just a little closer, enough that I could rest my head comfortably against his chest.

“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore,” Bucky sang softly into my hair. “Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more.”

I smiled into his chest; Frank Sinatra’s version had always been my favorite. But I think I’d be okay with Bucky's.

He continued, his voice echoing through his chest into my ear. “Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow, hang a shining star upon the highest bow. Oh and have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Bucky finished out the whole song, it was quite the performance. When he said pretend like the rest of the world didn’t exist, I don’t think he realized I wouldn't need to pretend with him doing that. I pulled my head back to look at him. The pure happiness that was spread across his face was a sight I didn’t think I could ever get used to seeing. He closed the distance and kissed me softly. This is definitely my new favorite version of the song.

“Do you think this is what normal eighty-year-old couples do?” I asked semi-joking.

Bucky laughed, “That’s terrible math, I’m a hundred and thirteen, thank you.”

“Your age minus my age is mid-eighties,” I replied with a smirk.

“You’re a jerk.” Bucky leaned down to kiss me again.

“Ah, yes I am. But that’s one of the many reasons you love me.”

He nodded, “Amongst a million others.”

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