#i needed daisy buchanan to be there and she is. this is the only other thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yelena-bellova · 4 years ago

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Safe Haven: tftaws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eleven (final chapter)

chapter ten - Chapter Eleven: Safe Haven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Bucky enjoy their time off in Brooklyn and make decisions about their future.

Warnings: FLUFF, very little angst for once, talk of torture, reference to suicide, open ended plot twist that I'm not sorry for...all the fluff, seriously...

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: Here we are...part of the journey is the end, and we've arrived. Even though there's another a/n at the bottom (with an important announcement so don't tap out too soon) I want to iterate just how thankful I am for the response I got on this series. I had the most amazing time writing it and loved getting to meet and connect with so many of you through it. ENJOY!!

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It had taken all the strength Bucky had in his soul to knock three times on Yori’s door. He didn’t know what reserve he had had to tap into to actually make his long-hidden confession but once the words had fallen from his lips, he felt both freed and all the more burdened. Watching his friend’s eyes become overtaken by heartbreak, the desperate, confused utterance of ‘why…?’ By the end, Yori wouldn’t even look at Bucky. Bucky didn’t blame him, he was surprised that the man wasn’t yelling him out of his apartment. Instead, he calmly told Bucky to leave, surely holding back the majority of his emotions until he was by himself. The door shut on their friendship and Bucky was by himself on the other side of the door once again, drawing the shaky breath he’d held while he was inside Yori’s place. Out of every person he’d gone to see, every heart he’d had to crush, this one had hurt the most. In the dauntingly long hallway, his eyes sought out the gift the universe had given him, so undeservingly.

His guiding light.

Bathed in the blue light that flooded through the dirty windows of the aged building, Y/n stared down at her feet as she paced. For as open as they’d become with one another, Bucky found himself unable to ask her to accompany him to his last opportunity to make amends. The two of them had become so skilled at reading each other that with one look in his saddened eyes, Y/n had squeezed her phone into the pocket of her jeans and stood by the door waiting for him to ready himself. Bucky was starting to make peace with his past, but he still didn’t know what he had done in his wretched life to have such an angel in his life.

“Hey,” she greeted soothingly, turning to face Bucky as he approached her, “How’d it go?” Bucky wasn’t ready to speak yet, he wasn’t even sure how he could describe what had just transpired. He simply sighed and allowed Y/n to wrap him in her arms in the embrace that was quickly becoming his favorite place to be.

——

As I woke with a groan, stretching my arms over my head, I was immediately aware that one side of the bed was cold. I blindly reached a hand over and felt around for Bucky’s missing body, sitting up when my search was unsuccessful. I blearily scanned the bedroom, our suits laying in a pile that had been kicked to the corner of the desolately furnished room. The few articles of clothing I had gone to the nearest department store and purchased for my impromptu stay in New York still lay folded on top of Bucky’s dresser. It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that I was beginning to spread across Bucky’s apartment without even trying.

It had been four days since the Flag Smasher’s final stand and while the world may have been spinning, mine had never been more steady. Bucky and I hadn’t left his apartment for more than running necessary errands. Other than that we’d spent the time enjoying our slice of domestic heaven learning about one another. I had discovered that Bucky was a good cook but only when it came to breakfast food. He had found out that I needed to sleep with the windows opened slightly for background noise. I had learned that his Spotify consisted strictly of music from the ’40’s and nothing else, contrary to what he’d told Sam about diving into Marvin Gaye’s discography. He’d learned that I got cold easily which led to both me stealing his hoodies and being on the receiving end of many bear hugs. We could tell what the other would do in combat or how they’d handle a concerning matter, but it was finding out the little things about James Buchanan Barnes that made me fall a little bit harder for him with each revelation.

The unlocking and opening of the door followed by quiet footsteps alerted me to his presence. I heard a few muffled noises before the floorboards outside the bedroom creaked, the door opening directly after. Bucky was careful and nearly silent as he came into the room until he saw that my eyes were open. We shared a lazy smile as he approached the bed.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

I shook my head in reply, he came to kneel at my side of the bed and pulled the hand he’d hidden behind his back out revealing a bouquet of daisies. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” I chuckled, reaching out to grab the bouquet, “I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers.”

“That’s a crime,” Bucky said as he stood up, shedding his leather jacket as he walked around the bed, “In my time, you always brought a girl flowers on the first date. It was just what you did.”

“I guess we can consider my little extended stay a first date,” I dipped my nose down to smell the flowers, “Although I’m pretty sure in your time you wouldn’t allow a girl into your bed so soon.” Bucky snickered to himself, “A gentleman would never let a lady sleep on the floor. And selfishly,” he tugged his second layer, a grey long sleeved shirt off over his head, and looked down on me lovingly, “I sleep better with you here.”

It was true. He’d told me how he’d only used the bed once since he’d moved in, having slept on the floor instead. I was familiar with the phenomenon, Sam had gone through the same thing when he’d returned from the service. I’d told him that if he had a nightmare and needed to move out to his living room, I’d join him with no hesitations. Shockingly, it hadn’t happened yet and we’d slept in a peaceful tangle of limbs each night that I’d been with him.

Kicking off his boots, he slipped under the duvet and sat up against the headboard, looking over at me and patting his jean clad thigh. I set the flowers down and crawled over to him, sinking down onto his lap and sliding my hands around his neck.

“I like this,” he complimented me with a smirk, tugging at the material of his henley that I was wearing, “Looks better on you than it ever would on me.” “Clearly you’ve never seen you,” I scoffed, I’d also learned that the man had no idea just how attractive he was, “What were you off doing?” “Grocery store,” Bucky answered, gesturing to the sidelined bouquet, “Florist. Dr. Raynor’s office…” “Oh, I didn’t know you had a session this morning.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hands firmly secured around my waist and his thumbs rubbing at my hips. “I didn’t,” he answered, “I, uh, I crossed off all the names in my book. Thought I’d drop by and let her know.” I gave a breathy laugh, “All of them?” He nodded, “All of them.” Surprised and proud, I placed my hands on his cheeks and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I never doubted you for a second” I said softly, our lips almost touching, “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky gave a small smile, not yet ready to take as much pride as I could in his recovery. I could tell that he was lighter, while his personality was silent and stoic there wasn’t as much sadness lurking beneath it. To those who knew him, the difference in his behavior was visible. The days that I’d been in New York were the happiest I’d seen Bucky since I’d known him.

“So…” I sighed, my hands sliding down to his shoulders, “No more therapy sessions, no more battles to be fought…What do we do now?”

The dreaded question that we’d been avoiding since we’d isolated ourselves from the outside world. There was no doubt as to whether or not I wanted to make it work between Bucky and I, but we hadn’t even discussed what “it” was. What should have unfolded over the course of a couple months had happened as a crash course over two weeks. I didn’t regret it, I just needed to know where Bucky’s head was at regarding our future. “Look,” Bucky averted his gaze downwards, “I’m not…I haven’t done this in a long time and I can’t promise that I’m gonna be good at it. I can’t even promise that I’ll know what I’m doing some of the time. But,” he shyly raised his eyes to meet mine, “I want this. I want you.”

His earnestness was so genuine, I thought my heart might burst from the emotion in his ocean blue eyes. “Bucky, I don’t want perfect,” I said, “And I’m pretty sure that a 106 year old with a robotic arm and a girl who can fly using blue energy from inside her wouldn’t even know what to do with perfect,” I earned a single laugh out of him, “Whatever we have right now, that’s what I want. I want to fight with you by my side and make a difference in the world, then I want to come home with you and teach you to cook something other than pancakes.”

He furrowed his brow, “What do you got against my pancakes?”

“My point is,” I giggled, my hands drifting back up to each side of his neck, “I want you exactly as you are. I haven’t done this in a long time either, I thought that after my dad died I was too broken to ever let myself be happy like this and you know that I’m coming in with more baggage than before. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. But there’s nobody else I’d rather figure this out with than you.”

The long stare he gave me was reminiscent of the first moment we’d been alone together, standing before the 200 foot drop in Munich. It was the first moment I’d appreciated his beauty, maybe it was the first seed planted in what was now a full-blown relationship in the making. This time, instead of sassing me with those hardened, slightly amused eyes, he surged forward and kissed me, cradling the back of my head in his Vibranium palm. I returned the kiss with just as much fervor, gripping the tight blue t-shirt tightly in my fists. Unlike the kisses we’d shared at 1AM in the kitchen of my house, this one carried a different weight. It was a promise of a future. Movie nights introducing Bucky to the classics that he’d missed. Lazy mornings in bed turned passionate as our bodies surrendered to one another. Protecting each other on whatever battlefields we’d inevitably end up on. Frustrating fights over something we’d inevitably admit was stupid to argue over. Whispering soothing affirmations to help Bucky come down from a violent nightmare. I could taste it all, the good and the bad, in that one kiss and I wanted every bit of it.

“Two weeks…” I said after we’d parted, shaking my head in amazement and laughing, “That’s all it took.” “Crazier things have happened,” Bucky reassured me with a smile, running his hands up and down my back, “My folks always said they knew in a week and they were together for almost forty years.” I bushed my lips against his softly, basking in the euphoria of knowing that the two of us belonged wholly to one another. To think that I’d been willing to throw all of it away mere days ago, I was ready to deprive myself and Bucky of the love we’d craved all our lives. I thanked God that my resolve to stay away had weakened long enough to let Bucky in because now, wrapped in his strong arms with his lips begging for a deeper kiss, I knew that I had something truly spectacular in my hands.

“Well, since this is official,” Bucky said, a little breathless, “There’s something you should have.” He took his hands off of my body and reached behind his neck, pulling off one of his dog tags. Understanding what he was doing and the significance of it, I moved my head to allow him to place the necklace over it, the cold metal of the ball chain settling against my neck. The tag fell between my breasts, I picked it up and read Bucky’s name, his service number, the name of his sister, their address and his birth place. He’d given me, a part of his future, a piece of his history.

“Bucky…” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to come out steady.

“A lot of soldiers gave one of them to their girls before they shipped out,” he recalled, watching me examine the piece of metal, “At least I know if I ever do ship out anywhere, you’ll be with me.” I bit my lip and smiled, looking up at him with misty eyes. When the first tear fell down my cheek, Bucky was quick to wipe it away and did so with a smile of his own. After all the pain we’d both suffered through in life, we were finally allowed tenderness. Our hearts were scarred, our bodies worn, but no amount of trauma could lay a hand on the way we felt about one another. There’d be many more fights, some with forces bigger than the ones we’d spent the last two weeks taking a stand against. But at the end of the day, I had Bucky, my safe haven to come back to.

“It’s getting late,” I observed after a few minutes of sweet silence, the morning hours were slipping away from us, “Are you hungry? I can make us something.” “Yeah, but,” Bucky’s hands found my arms and he rubbed his palms against them, “Let’s stay here just a little while longer…”

A grin spread across my face, one that I was finding only Bucky could bring out in me. “Okay,” I replied, settling my face in the crook of his neck and resting against his chest, the only place I wanted to be.

——

A FEW DAYS LATER

“You ready, Barnes?” “I’m ready.” “This is the most dangerous mission we’re ever going to face.” “I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle it.” “Then why are you sweating?” “I’m not…sweating.” “Well, at least I know you’ll never lie to me. You suck at it,” I smirked just before smoothing out the shoulders of his jacket, “Follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

Bucky blew out a breath, his cheeks loosing their puff as he exhaled, “Here goes nothing…” I gave three sharp knocks on the door before entering, seeing the familiar face waiting in a chair by the window. “Hey, Mama…” My mother smiled deeply at the sight of her daughter, alive before her. “Baby,” she whispered as she slowly rose to embrace me, “Oh, you’re here.” “I’m here,” I smiled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fill my eyes. My mother had been my first call after the battle in New York, realizing that my face was flashing across every news channel in the country alongside Sam and Bucky. This was the first time I’d seen her since before I’d left Louisiana with Sam.

“And you brought someone?” she asked over my shoulder, pulling away to wipe her cheeks.

“I did,” I turned around and looped my arm through Bucky’s, who was looking vaguely nauseous, “Mom, this is James.”

Bucky stuck out his gloved hand towards my mother, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/l/n.”

“Wonderful to meet you too, James,” she responded, shaking his hand and looking over to me, “I’ve been waiting a long time for Y/n to bring somebody home.” I forced a chuckle, “Thanks, Mom…” “Well, I’m honored that I’m the one she chose,” Bucky beamed, his bright eyes seeking mine out.

“Well, sit down,” my mom gestured to the two free chairs in the room, “I want to hear all about how you two met.”

Bucky and I exchanged a nervous look as we pulled up our seats to join her by the window. How were you supposed to explain that you’d fallen for a 106 year old who just happened to have once been the world’s deadliest assassin? “Um…James is one of Sam’s friends from the military. He came with us to Munich and things just sort of,” I slipped my hand into one of Bucky’s that sat in his lap, “Happened from there.” “We didn’t like each other much at first, but,” Bucky chimed in, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, “She definitely snuck up on me.”

“Oh my,” she looked at me amusedly, “How’s Sam taking this? Has he threatened you yet, Bucky?” “Yeah, I, uh, got a text from him the other day, and it read something like ‘I’ve got access to government weapons, don’t make me use them.’”

I covered my mouth and snorted as my mother got a good laugh herself, “You didn’t tell me that.” Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips, Sam and him had been getting along swimmingly since his last visit to Louisiana. But no friendship could eclipse Sam’s overprotective nature when it came to his family, it was only a matter of time until Bucky was on the receiving end of its ugly side.

“Truth is,” Bucky turned his gaze to my mother while keeping a soft grip on my hand, I could feel his nerves radiating through his touch, “I’m crazy about your daughter, ma’am, I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Mom sighed, an ear-to-ear grin painted across her face. It was the same one I’d seen when my sister had first brought her now husband home to meet us. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that, James,” she replied, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you more.” “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I questioned, “It’s been so long since the whole family was together.” “I wish, but I’m a little too tired to make the trip there,” Mom answered, settling into her seat a little more, “You don’t need an old lady there slowing you down.” “That’s ridiculous,” I gently pushed back, “But since Sam and I are back home for a while, we’ll make sure to bring everybody up one of the weekends.” “I’d like that,” she smiled. A phone buzzing interrupted the conversation, Bucky let go of my hand to reach into his jacket pocket. “It’s Sam, probably wants an ETA,” he announced, rising from his seat and looking between both me and my mother, “Sorry.”

Both of us shooed him out of the room to take the call, turning back to one another once he was gone with shining smiles. “Honey…” “I know…” I tried to hold back a giddy laugh threatening to erupt.

“He seems wonderful…” I shook my head, semi in disbelief that things had turned out the way they had. “You don’t even know the half of it, he’s just…I’m crazy about him.” “That much is obvious,” Mom gestured to my face, “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door. I’ve never seen you this happy. Just one thing…” I furrowed my brows as her smile turned to a knowing smirk, “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know who he is?” I sighed, leaning forward in my seat and propping my elbows on my knees. “We weren't trying to hide it, he just doesn’t like to advertise it. Once people know, they usually can’t look past what he was. But, Mom, we’ve been glued at the hip for the last two weeks and I can promise you, what you’re seeing is what you’re getting. I wouldn’t be with him if I thought there was any chance he could hurt me. He saved my life and so many others last week...” “Sweetie, you don’t have to try and sell me on him,” Mom said soothingly, reaching out to touch my knee, “I trust your judgement and I also know what happened to him, it was tragic. The fact that he has a second chance at his life makes me happy, especially since it’s with you. Watching the two of you, how at ease he is with you…And those eyes,” she stopped to chuckle, “The way he looks at you is something special, it’s something magical. The two of you fit.”

Eventually I would tell her the whole story of how Bucky and I came to be, but it was better saved for another day. If she only knew how challenging it had been to get to something so simple and how Bucky and I valued each other all the more for it. “He fought for me, Mama,” I said with tears brimming, letting out a laugh, “Literally and metaphorically. And I just couldn’t let him go, he’s everything I’ve wanted but what I thought I could never have.” Mom placed a hand on my cheek, “You deserve him, my love. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve happiness.” And for the first time, I believed her. I believed that through my suffering, I had played a small part in helping Bucky through his. We deserved something more than what had happened to us and we had found it in one another.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Mom said, her face flashing with a different emotion than joy for a brief second. “I’m not sure about that…” I mumbled, dodging her eyes in favor of staring down at my hands, a different reaction than I’d ever had when talking about my father.

“Sweetie,” she coaxed me, tapping at my hands until I looked back up at her, “Do you…do you know something?” My heartbeat started to quicken as I struggled to contain the information I was withholding from my mother. It was taking everything I had not to tell her that her husband had been a part of one of the cruelest organizations the world had ever seen. The pain must have reflected in my expression. “Yeah,” she whispered, biting her lip and closing her eyes, “You know…” “Mom?”

She sighed, sitting back in her chair and supporting her head in her hand. “I didn’t know anything about that part of your father’s life when I married him, he didn’t like to talk about his time in the ‘service’ and I never pushed it…It wasn’t until the night that he died, before he left the house, that he sat me down and confessed it all.” “He…” I moved to the edge of my seat, “He told you?” “Mmhmm,” she nodded, a distant look in her eyes like she was transported back in time to that very moment, “I didn’t know how to process any of it, how could I? This man who I’d shared my life with and he’d made his living off of inflicting pain on innocent people. Hours later, he was gone and any chance to delve deeper into it was gone too. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with everything, but I made it. You’re free to draw your own conclusions, Y/n, I’m not telling you how to feel. All I’ll say is this,” Mom drew a breath before continuing, “Your father’s guilt over what he did, to Bucky specifically, overwhelmed him. He told me how HYDRA manipulated him, a young and ambitious man, into coming to work for them, lying and telling him they were creating a better world with their work. He thought he was fighting for what was right…I’m not making excuses for him, believe me, I’m simply telling you what he told me. Do you remember when he’d wake up from a nightmare?” I nodded grimly, the shrieks of my father’s always strained vocal cords still haunted me decades later. “Do you remember what he used to cry when he woke up?” Mom asked.

I silently shook my head in reply, when I’d be awoken by my fathers blood curdling screams as a child, I’d always bury my head under my pillow in an effort to block it out, shedding tears at knowing I couldn’t help him. “Soldat…”

My head perked up, the word was familiar to me after hearing Zemo call Bucky the same thing when we were undercover in Madripoor. “Of course by the time that your James was free, your father had been dead for over a decade but,” Mom paused, looking out the window as memories hit her, “Your father’s guilt over what he did ate away at him every day. As far as you went, he told me that the reason he wanted to keep your powers hidden was because he was afraid HYDRA would come for you. It’s the reason I moved us to Delacroix after he died, I didn’t want to take the chance of somebody finding you. Dad didn’t want them to make you a weapon the same way they made one of James. But honey,” she took my hand, “He believed you could do great things, truly. One of the last things he said to me was that our family was the one good thing he’d done in life.”

Everything that I’d thought and everything I’d never thought had been revealed to me. My father’s crimes could never be erased, but some part of me felt satisfied knowing that he knew what he did was wrong. He’d been haunted day and night by Bucky, the man who I was completely head over heels for. In some way, it felt poetic that Bucky and I had ended up together. I couldn’t magically heal his trauma, but for every bit of torture my dad and countless others inflicted upon him, I was now there to shower him in the love and safety he deserved.

“Have you…forgiven him for what he did?” I hesitantly asked.

“You know, after all these years, I’m still not sure what forgiveness looks like in a situation like this,” she admitted with a small shrug, “We weren’t affected, yet his past put us in danger, especially you. And now, seeing the man that he was paid to hurt and how much joy he brings you, it’s bringing up a lot of emotions I thought I’d buried. I know he regretted what he’d done with his whole being and I believe that, but I still question why he didn’t leave sooner. I wish I could give you a better answer but-“ “Mama,” I squeezed her hand and pushed back my tears to help her, “I’ve had this information for a week and I’m still spinning, I can’t imagine what it’s like to sit on it silently for this long. I was hellbent on keeping this from you but I’m actually relieved that I don’t have to hide it…” I took a trembling breath, “Dad did a lot of things wrong in his life, but I have a chance to do a lot of good. I’ve talked to Sam and I’m going to keep working with him, I’m done living with my hands tucked under my legs. I want to make the difference in the world that Dad thought he was making.” “I think you’re off to a pretty good start,” my mother replied, “I was terrified watching you fly around New York, but I’d also never been prouder of you.” A knock on the door followed by Bucky sticking his head through it broke us from the topic. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes widened slightly as he worried. “Not at all,” my mom said cheerily as she slowly rose from her seat, “I don’t want to keep you two any longer when you’ve got somewhere to be.”

I tightly embraced her and placed a kiss on her cheek, “Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, gesturing afterwards to Bucky who made his way over to her and allowed himself to be hugged by her, “Take care of my girl, James.” “I will,” Bucky promised, pulling back to give a nod full of conviction.

Once the two of us had shut my mom’s door and were back out in the hallway of the nursing home, Bucky noticed the slight puffiness of my eyes. “Happy tears or sad tears?” he asked as we walked down the hall.

“‘I don’t know’ tears,” I replied with a small smile, weaving my fingers between his gloved metal ones. “But well done, Sergeant. I’d consider that a successful mission,” I finished, receiving the laugh I loved so much and a kiss to the side of my head. I pressed my lips to the place on his shoulder where I knew underneath his layers Vibranium met his skin, one of his favorite places to be kissed. My phone went off then, alerting me to a text, I pulled it out of the pocket. “Bucky…” I muttered, stopping in the middle of the hall. “What is it?” he asked as he stepped back to join me, I held my phone out for both of us to read the ominous words displayed.

The world’s seen what you can do, come to Madripoor when you decide to use those hands for something worthwhile.

- The Power Broker

“How did they get my number?” I asked in surprise, letting Bucky take my phone to examine it closer as if he could find something I couldn’t. “I don’t know,” he answered, handing the device back to me, “But we’re changing it immediately, you need to show this to Sam soon as we get to the house.” “They’re not actually threatening me, seems more like a job offer than anything else that’s only going to be declined. Plus, they’re all the way in Madripoor,” I stuck the phone back in my pocket, “I’m not going to let this ruin our day.” Bucky frowned down at me as I took his arm once again, “You’re a little too relaxed about this.” “I’m a mutant who can make things move with her mind with Captain America for a brother and a Super Soldier for a boyfriend, I’d love to see the Power Broker try to mess with that.”

——

The dock was exactly how I loved to see it, packed and filled with joy.

Sam and Sarah had invited the whole town to the celebratory cookout, people of all ages flooding our corner of the bayou as Bucky and I pulled up. Sam had loaned us his truck for the duration of our stay and I was having the time of my life showing Bucky around Louisiana and there was nothing more Louisiana than a cookout with the entire community.

Bucky parked near the end of the dock and hopped out, carrying the ice cream cake that we’d picked up on our way. He crossed around the front of the truck to open the door for me, taking one of my hands and helping me hop out of the passenger side. After a dozen more reassurances during the drive that the text I’d received wasn’t worth freaking out about, he’d begun to relax. For once, he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions. I could see it plain as day on his face, he was genuinely excited to be back in Delacroix and even more excited when the familiar sounds of AJ and Cass hit our ears.

“Oh! There he is!” Bucky greeted as the boys ran up to us and began throwing fake punches at my boyfriend who willingly played along, dramatically dodging their imaginary hits. He raised up the hand that held the cake over Cass’ head and yelled to which I quickly threw an energy shield underneath his arm to protect the overly expensive dessert.

“Aunt Y/n! Can you make us fly?” AJ came up to my side and begged.

Cass backed his brother up, “Yeah, can we? Please?” “No,” I replied, retaking Bucky’s hand and letting him lead us through the crowd, “But you can follow us with your two perfectly functional legs.” My nephews both groaned and laughed as they fell in step behind Bucky and I. “Where is everybody?” he asked as he set the cake down on one of the picnic tables set out and removed his sunglasses.

“Uncle Sam’s taking pictures with people, Mom’s cooking and Aunt Mel’s at one of the tables,” Cass answered, his face lighting up as he got a good luck at the dessert.

“After dinner,” I said, quickly having switched back into aunt mode, “Now lead the way.”

I extended my hand toward the boys and raised them up a few inches above the ground, receiving laughter and praises in return as I moved them ahead of us and through the crowd. Along the way people kept patting me on the back or sneaking in quick hugs, they shook Bucky’s hand and thanked us both for what we’d done in New York. The only thing that confused me was how people weren’t calling me by name. By the time we made it to Sarah, I had questions.

“There they are, America’s Power Couple,” she announced, coming out from behind the booth where she’d been chopping to hug us both. I pulled back to lower the boys back to the ground, “Do you know why people I’ve known almost all my life are suddenly calling me ‘Sapphire?’”

“Did you not check the internet at all when you were in Brooklyn?” she raised an eyebrow before pulling out her phone from her back pocket and pulling up Instagram, “Ever since the night of the fight, people have been referring to you as Sapphire. People are posting pictures of you, trying to get interviews with you, kids are even dressing up like you!” “Oh my gosh,” I mumbled as I scrolled through the hashtag containing the name, seeing all the proof of Sarah’s words before my eyes. Dozens and dozens of various types of photos displayed my signature shade of blue, “Bucky, look!” He took the phone out of my hand, a smile spreading across his face soon after. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly, handing the phone back to Sarah.

“You wanted the superhero life, you got it,” my sister laughed before returning to what she was doing, “Sam’s doing pictures and there’s already been people asking if you were gonna be here so I imagine they’re gonna want some with you.”

Bucky grabbed my hand and led me around to where a line had formed, spotting Sam as the destination. As soon as he caught a glimpse of us, he held up a finger to the crowd and broke away from them. The three of us exchanged hugs, me internally laughing to myself at the fact that two weeks after saying they never wanted to see one another again, they were now brothers in arms. Sam took my hand and tugged me towards where everyone was gathered, “Lotta people have been waiting for you, Sapphire,” he smirked.

As the day went on, the three of us did meet and greets with nearly everybody. At one point I found Bucky casually talking to Sarah with AJ, Cass and other neighborhood kids hanging off his vibranium arm. People had gathered around me as well asking to levitate them, something that provided entertainment for everyone. We ate, we laughed, at one point I caught Sam and Bucky watching the sun set over the Louisiana waters. I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in between the two and was received with an arm around each of my sides. We’d fought a shared battle along with our own separate three and now that they’d all been put to rest, we could take a minute to enjoy the freedom we’d worked so hard for. The future was unknown, but I knew that if we’d made it through the mess of a week we’d had together, there wasn’t a whole lot that we couldn’t make it through.

——

When the sky darkened, the dock lights went on and the party kept going. Someone had brought out a Bluetooth speaker and there was now a section of the dock that acted as a makeshift dance floor. I was seated at a table with Melanie watching the show, baby Alexandria fast asleep in her arms. “So…Bucky,” my sister said teasingly teased.

I let out a loud sigh, “Bucky.” “He’s perfect for you,” she smiled, “I’m glad you brought him home.” “Me too,” I scanned the dock until I spotted my boyfriend, engrossed in a conversation with Sam, “He fits right into the family.” “I’ll say, the kids love him. Max and Sophia have been following him around all day, I’ve never been able to get the baby to sleep as fast as when he held her…” I chuckled, “Yeah, just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, you stuck a baby in his arms.” Mel snickered at my reaction, “Yeah, pretty sure every woman on the dock snapped a picture of that.” The two of us burst into laughter before hushing ourselves as to not wake the sleeping infant. “Hey, Sapphire,” she nudged my shin with her foot, “I’m proud of you.” “Well, that’s a far cry from how you felt last week,” I commented, remembering the fear in my sister’s voice from our phone calls in Riga.

“I’m always going to worry about you, but once I actually saw you do your thing,” she breathed, “I was just in awe of how you would risk your life to save all those people. It would be a waste to not put your gift to good use.” I leaned my head against hers and brushed a finger over Alexandria’s thinly haired head, appreciating the sweetness of the moment. Once a slow song came on the speakers, I watched as Bucky stepped away from Sam and made his way over to our table. “Can I steal your sister away for a dance?” he asked Mel. “Steal? You can keep her,” I shot my sister a faux smile while she watched on with a grin as I took Bucky’s outstretched hand and let him lead me away. “Gonna show me some more Madripoor moves?” I jested as we walked across the dock. “That was not dancing, although I did enjoy it,” Bucky replied, giving me a wink that could have melted me into a puddle, “I’ll show you what real dancing is.” I recognized the song as a version of ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and realized Bucky waited until now to show off any moves in his arsenal because it was probably the first song he recognized on the playlist. He encircled my waist with his flesh arm and took my hand in his Vibranium one, pulling me so close that there wasn’t any space left between us. He began to sway us slowly to the beat of the song. I rested my cheek against his, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the bayou evening air. As far as I was concerned, dancing in the arms of the man I was somehow lucky enough to call my own in the place I loved most in the world was the perfect end to a perfect day.

“Alright, I give…” I relented softly, close enough to his ear that I barley had to speak louder than a whisper for him to hear me, “Your version of dancing is better.” He gave a gentle laugh, the sweetest sound, and rubbed at my waist, “It’s more about the partner than it is the actual dance, think I’ve got the best one.”

“You certainly know how to make a girl blush, Sergeant Barnes,” I replied just before he spun me out of his arms and back into his body, “When’s your flight back to Brooklyn?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, “Already tired of me?”

“Never,” I shook my head with a genuine smile, “Just trying to soak in all the time I can with you before you go back.” “About that…” he trailed off, turning his gaze to the various other couples dancing around us, “I was thinking of maybe extending my stay. I mean the scenery’s nice, good food,” he looked back to me, “Decent people.” The grin that I was fighting was starting to make itself very apparent, “What are you saying?” “Well,” Bucky shrugged and looked away again, “I mean, I’d need to find a place, hopefully nothing too expensive or else I’d have to find a roommate and even then, it’d be hard to find someone I like enough to live with…”

“Bucky…” I’d ceased our movements to show just how serious I was, searching his face to try and tell if he was joking or not. “What do you say, doll? You think you can put up with me a little while longer?” he asked with a smirk. I exhaled happily and pulled him down to my lips, kissing him with all the excitement that filled my veins at the prospect of him staying. When we finally pulled away, I cradled his cheek in my hand. “I will put up with you for as long as you want,” I beamed, pecking his lips once more. “I’m glad,” Bucky kissed my temple, “It was either telling you this or the other thing…” “What’s the other thing?” I asked, thinning my eyes at him in expectancy of another surprise.

Bucky drew a breath, taking a few seconds to steady himself for whatever he was planning to say. “Well, I was going to tell you that I love you but,” he clicked his teeth, “Now that I think about it, it’s probably better saved for another time,” The earth ceased to move and spin at a dizzying pace all at once, his blue eyes never more truthful than they were in that moment. “I think you’re right,” I said over the lump in my throat, holding back the tears that had come all to quickly, “Best to save that for another day, wouldn’t want to make a hasty declaration or anything...” “That’s what I was thinking,” Bucky replied plainly, continuing our charade. I gave him a watery smile, bringing one of my hands up to run through the hairs at the base of his neck. “I love you too,” I whispered.

Both of Bucky’s arms wrapped around my waist, clutching me as tight as he could without actually injuring me as our lips met. I encircled his neck and relaxed into him completely, feeing aglow with the love that I could finally admit to feeling. Both of us smiled into the kiss, feeding off of the mutual joy of what was unfolding before us. Was it crazy to commit in the ways I was committing to a man I’d known for only two weeks? To some, yes. But ‘some’ hadn’t formed the bond that Bucky and I had over the short span of time it had taken for me to fall in love with him. We had seen the best and the worst of each other, rising and falling with one another’s waves and learning what made the other tick. I wanted every part of him, the good, the bad, the traumatic and the pure. The quick decisions that would raise eyebrows made sense to us, and that was more than enough reason for me to see each one through.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” Bucky said softly after we’d parted, pulling back to admire me. “Thanks for not letting me give you up,” I returned, staring up into the eyes that had first captured me. The eyes that I’d get to stare into each and every day.

Since the night we’d connected on the jet ride to Berlin, there was some way Bucky had made me feel that I couldn’t put a name to. Something I couldn’t understand at the time but I was fully aware of now. Bucky felt like home. And with our bright future ahead of us, wrapped in his arms dancing underneath the Louisiana stars, I’d never felt more at home.

----

A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying. GUYS. IT'S OVER. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY TIME NOW? I want to thank every single person who liked, commented, reblogged, sent messages and asks and supported this silly little fic I thought up one day after watching TFATWS. As someone who is super insecure about their writing, seeing it well received was a boost to my confidence to keep running with this. I've loved getting to write this and give it to you all and can't wait to write more for you. I'm adding my new taglist link for anyone who would like to be added, it's separated by the characters I write for and you can choose which ones you'd like to follow. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES AGAIN. I LOVE YOU ALL 3000!!

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33 @rosebucketbarnes @tylard-blog1

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x platonic!reader #sam wilson x reader #marvel imagine

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

Text

Dr Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (3/?)

Part three: the gift

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: The next meeting rolls around and Reader tries to get Spencer to open up in baby steps. Turns out he was more willing to let her in than she first expected.

Part One, Part Two

Series Masterlist

A/N: Heyyy this is my third part for Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde!!! It’s also the fifteenth installment of my 30 fics in 30 days for April event! The plot is finally about to pick up y’all!!!! I’ve got so many plans where this series is headed (though I don’t know necessarily where it’s going to end) and I’m really excited!!! This chapter brings in other references from non gothic literature as well which was fun to do- these references and metaphors are really fun to craft. I’m curious to see y’all’s reaction to this part- leave me an ask if you want here (I promise I won’t bite 🧛🏻‍♀️) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Soft dom Spencer that turns back into slightly mean dom Spencer, Public sex, Masturbation (F), Oral sex (M receiving), Face fucking, Reader has a nickname- I think that’s it let me know if there needs to be anything else

Main Masterlist Word Count: 4.1k 😱

A meeting of the classics was once again scrawled on the whiteboard when you entered the library. It had the usual time 7pm to 11:30pm written right underneath. Instantly you fell down the rabbit hole and into another world, reality was turned on its head whenever you opened those wooden doors. Every encounter you had in the shelves, in the reading rooms, and even at the information desk seemed like you were walking into a world crafted by a surrealist. Everything was just slightly twisted and turned to feel slightly off from the reality outside those doors. It oddly made you feel more at home than your own apartment.

Each time a meeting rolled around you’d get an email notification a few weeks prior, informing you as to what the theme would be. The book club was already more extravagant than any other you had ever heard before, adding to the surrealist nature of where you were located. Last time was a somewhat lavish affair, this time it was coated in fleeting luxury.

Sure, the 1920s theme with the undeniable tinge of influence from The Great Gatsby would always lend itself to luxury, even with cheap decorations. But, the way the decor around you almost felt real told you exactly what your monthly entrance fee was going towards. You could complain about the steep price of admission, it could burn a hole into your wallet if you weren’t so careful. At any rate it did not matter, you were sure they wouldn’t care if you complained, and besides this was the only thing you really every splurged on. Plus there was the added aspect of the person you would no longer be able to indulge in if you let your membership lapse.

It was nice to treat yourself, get a taste of what it would be like to live basking in luxury 24/7. Flutes of champagne were passed around like hot cakes, admittedly they were non alcoholic after an incident a few months prior before you joined with some whiskey. It could have been a rumor fed to you by some of the vapid attendees to stir the pot so the library may cave to make their guests happy. You were going to keep your mouth shut because truth be told you didn’t mind that they were non alcoholic. You wanted to be sober for this. You wanted to be sober for Spencer.

Normally whenever a meeting rolled around you’d gladly be mingling with everyone around you. Even if personally you viewed some of their insights on whatever book they wished to discuss as shallow, seeing another’s perspective was always intriguing.

Something, namely someone, lurking in the shadows had your attention instead. It felt strikingly similar to the night of your first encounter, his eyes piercing into you, undressing you with them. The only thing that had changed is that you knew his name with some small added details. You didn't even know what type of Doctor he was, let alone what kind of man he was. But, you hoped tonight might change your prospects.

You had gotten a peek underneath the mask each time, just enough to pull you in closer. Whatever might lurk beneath, which still may be dangerous, for right now made you thrum with excitement. Spencer was just as surreal to you as the rest of the library, though he was definitely more shadowy than the others. It wouldn’t surprise you if he wasn’t real outside of here.

He could possibly just be a ghost trapped to roam the halls that instead of wanting to scare you, pleasured you. It was a silly thought for sure, but until he divulged more you struggled to convince yourself that he was real, even though his touch certainly did. The world was very different outside the library’s doors and you’d be content to be locked inside of it, that is if Spencer opened his own doors.

You circled each other for a while, neither of you talking to anyone, just staring with lust in your eyes. Tired of this cat and mouse game that you were unwilling to break out of stubbornness, he set down an empty ‘champagne’ flute to weave through the crowd to meet you.

No small talk or pleasantries came out of his mouth when he started your first conversation of the night, “At least you fit the theme this time.”

He had gestured to the dress you had chosen, a simple fringed red dress that very obviously was inspired by the era. It definitely gave you a sense of allure that leaned dark along with your dark lipstick, giving you your own cloak of mystery to match Spencer’s. At least there was a cloak for everyone else; Spencer could read you like an open book even with all your secrets. Spencer just had the ability to speed read them faster than any other human.

There was still depth to you, seemingly boundless, and certainly much more than the staple embodiment of a 1920s woman at a party being eyed at by man. You were no Daisy Buchanan that’s for sure, and Spencer was no Gatsby from what you have seen.

“As I told you last time I did fit the theme, Spencer.” You kept your lips shut tight about the fact that you had partially chosen this dress for him, picking a much more historically accurate style within your budget. Skating around the topic with ease you then teased, “Was that your way of complimenting my dress?”

“No…” That definitely meant yes, just by going off of the way he eyed your curves.

“At least you have it easy, you only have to throw on a suit, which is boring.” He snorted at that and didn’t disagree with your stinging jab at men’s fashion.

“That’s true, I don’t think I would want to see you in a boring suit, Shelley.” Inching closer to you so he possessively put a hand on your waist. He was close enough now that you could feel his breath on the exposed skin on your neck, a shiver trickling down your spine at that. His next words had a different reaction from you, your panties getting damp immediately after, “A dress has easier- access.”

The conversation turned from your typical banter into innuendos covered in mystery just like you both, with Spencer’s not being an act like you were trying to put on. You could let him do whatever he wanted to you again, which you thoroughly enjoyed, but there was a lingering fantasy you hadn’t voiced that had been in your head since he pinned you against the shelves.

“You didn’t let me reciprocate last time.” You whispered into his ear, your dirty intentions hidden by innocent words. The people around you had no idea what was going on, still milling about while you leaned in closer, only a few people looking over at you both curiously before moving on. Your next move was bold, wrapping your hand around his tie to pull him in closer, so you could keep your request a secret for his ears alone, “Will you allow me to return the favor?”

By the way his face twisted up at your words you knew you were testing a limit. All of your encounters thus far had been him touching you, not you touching him.

“Thought you would have forgotten about that by now.” This was his attempt to change the subject, to move on and expect that you’ll drop it just like him.

Everyone you knew called you stubborn for a reason, gripping his tie even harder you then doubled down, “Will you let me?”

It was highly unlikely that you were going to get a verbal response to your request, most likely you were about to get rejected, hard. You had tested your limits throughout your small time together. This however was entirely different and potentially over the line as to what Spencer would willingly allow.

Instead of shutting you out and shutting down he surprised you by opening his mouth to form the word, “Yes.”

With that you started to tug him out of the room, discreetly of course to not attract any unwanted attention and you didn’t pull him by his tie. Your fingers were wrapped around his wrist delicately, his first taste of you touching him while you guided him to a spot for your clandestine affair.

Your eagerness made you too impatient to wait and find a better secluded spot away from the crowd. The corner you chose was beyond risky to say the least, only a wall separating the both of you and the club guests. If you were lucky and went quickly you’d avoid being caught.

You wondered how long it had been since someone had offered to do this for him, instead of him probably forcing them to their knees while he continued to control the encounter with their consent. His steadfast control over each time he touched you had never wavered up until this point.

“You tell me if you want me to stop.”

He gulped hard, giving you a look like he was considering stopping you. Ultimately he kept his mouth shut, letting you drop to your knees and begin to unbutton his slacks. You worked quickly, unsure how much time you had without being caught in this little corner barely off to the side you chose or how long Spencer would let you touch him with impunity.

You hadn’t been able to really get a good look at his cock, either you had been facing away from it or it was trapped in the confines of the slacks he always wore. When you freed him from his boxers you could not help but admire it, even if only for a second.

Beautiful was an odd way to describe a cock, but there was no other word you could really find in the moment while you were on your knees. He was already hard, even leaking at the tip, and all from a few teasing words from your mouth. You’d have to test your affect on him more in the future, it obviously excited him.

When you held it in your hands and licked him from his base to tip, he had to bite on his fist at the suddenness of your touch. You pumped him a few times languidly before bringing the head to your lips and letting it slip into your mouth. He was allowing you to explore without fear of any repercussions. His hand that now rested at the back of your head being the only signal that he could take back the control anytime he wanted.

When you began to bob your head a wave of new precum hit your tongue. The taste of Spencer on your tongue was to put it lightly, intoxicating, you’d be content to taste him everyday if he let you.

Hoping too much would be your downfall if you let it, you pushed it out of your mind so you could be content with the baby steps forward you were taking. This right here, was him being vulnerable, even with you on his knees. You’d have to tread carefully if you wanted another crack in his mask to see even his darkest features, not a chink in his armor that would have him running away injured.

You weren’t sure what made the energy shift in the corner you were on your knees in, you suspected it was the soft caress of your hand along his thigh. He clammed up, suddenly wanting to take back control of the situation, no longer content with being vulnerable. It was quite clear to you that he saw giving up his control as a moment of weakness, just by going off of the once content look on his face that had twisted and seized up in frustration. Whatever he would let you do to him or whatever he wanted to do to you would always leave you wet with desire. It would however, be a lie to say that you didn’t want to see him back in a similar position one day. Getting him to be vulnerable for any extended period of time, even if it was while you were on his knees for him in a typical position for submission, was a form of progress. A little bit twisted, yes, but it still was progress.

Control fell back easily into his hands, now wasn’t the time to fight him on it; you’d be a good girl for now. The hand that had been resting gently on the back of your head tightened its grip to start controlling the pace.

You let your hand let go of his cock, resting them both on his thighs now instead. Your eyes were glassy as you tried to meet his sable irises while he began to thrust into your mouth. All you could really see was his Adam’s apple bobbing, curls falling as his head tipped back with his jaw slack. At first his thrusts had tested the waters, to see how much you could take. They then became more forceful when you gripped his thighs through his slacks and tried to pull him close.

The corner you had pulled him into was more exposed than any previous dalliance. Last time, even though it was out in the open, the stacks of shelves piled high with books shielded you along with his body pinned on top of yours. In comparison, this time you could hear the people laughing and mingling about in the next room over.

That only made you keen, moaning around him softly when you heard someone start a conversation close to the shared wall. Spencer, ever astute to your actions, picked up on what had you moaning around him. He forced your head down as far as you could go, your nose almost nuzzling the hairs at his base. He held you there harshly for a moment while he spoke, “You like it when we’re close to getting caught don’t you? That’s why you chose this spot isn’t it? You aren’t just satisfied with sneaking around, you want to get caught doing it.”

Before you could confirm or deny his questions you had to pull off of him so you could catch your breath. A string of spit connected from your mouth to the top of his cock remained unbroken until he brought his thumb to your mouth so you could continue to suck on something. He bent down to look at you, inspecting your makeup melted by tears and your spit covered lips. When he then moved his thumb from out of your mouth to grip your cheeks hard you whimpered, wondering what you did wrong, “Answer my questions.”

You scrambled to answer to avoid any type of punishment. You couldn’t make him feel good the way you wanted to if he was angry at you. Trying to muster up some conviction failed as your answer still came out shaky, “Y-yes! I-I liikeee it, Doctor!”

Satisfied with your answer and the amount of time your break had been he let go of the grip on your cheeks to resume. He slipped back inside your mouth swiftly, seeing no need to start out slow again. This time when you looked up, you found him meeting your irises with his own making you squirm underneath his piercing gaze.

“Touch yourself, we don’t have time for both of us.” With any other man you would have been irritated because mostly likely they were unwilling to finish a girl off. Spencer however, had proven he was consistently capable of that from you two previous interactions. He was also right, the place you had chosen was going to be flooded with people soon as they left the party. It was around this time that a group of people got bored and left which you didn’t understand. Why would they pay the money if they were just going to leave early?

You maneuvered your hands underneath the fringed edge of your dress, then bypassing your panties by pushing them to the side. There was no need to tease yourself, sucking off Spencer had you soaking through your flimsy lace panties. You pushed two of your fingers inside your entrance, curling them to deliciously hit at that sweet spot inside you. Even though you were enjoying the way he fucked your face in combination with you touching yourself, your fingers didn’t feel as euphoric as Spencer’s long fingers that could pull an orgasm out of you in seconds.

Spencer was nearing his release, his hips stuttering as it came closer. More tears prickled at the corner of your eyes out of frustration that you were having trouble reaching the edge with your own fingers. Spencer of course saw your frustration and began to coax you to the edge,

“Come on Shelley I know you can do it, I know you can make yourself cum for me.” Spencer’s words weren’t nearly as good as your fingers, but it did help that final push towards the edge. Falling over the edge together was a heady feeling, pleasure sparking through your veins while Spencer filled your mouth. You focused on swallowing it all down as best as you could, only a bit escaping the sides of your mouth.

When it was all said and done Spencer tucked himself back into his boxers, then rebuckling the belt holding his slacks up. He then outstretched a hand towards you, who was crumpled on the floor looking absolutely ruined. It was a simple gesture, taking his hand so you didn’t wobble on your heels as much. To you however it seemed like a weighted moment, subtly showing that you were willing to take whatever he may give to you.

He then suddenly pushed a book in your hands, which came seemingly out of thin air, only soon after you had cleaned up the corners of your mouth by licking your lips. You had been just about to clean the remnants of your makeup that was streaming down your cheeks with a makeup wipe that had been in your purse. He had other plans, putting the book in your hands and grabbed the wipe from you. He began to use the wipe to clean you off, caressing your cheeks softly this time. His movements were gentle as the cleanser in the cloth, every gentle touch that came directly after the hard made you want to fall into the dark abyss with him. You had almost moved forward to kiss him until he unintentionally stopped you by starting to wipe your smeared lipstick off. Once he was done with that you then looked down at the book he had forced you to take.

“What is this?” Your brows furrowed in question at the unexpected gift. Your relationship had a loose definition, really none at all, to get a gift felt like it was supposed to mean something. He had gifted you something in the past, the nickname you now couldn’t seem to shake, and you supposed the multiple orgasms could be classified as gifts to some.

This felt bigger than that, at least to you. But, how were you supposed to know what his train of thought was when you didn’t know anything about him. Most of what you did know contradicted each other anyway. There was no way to predict a man who had two distinct sides of him, neither of which he’d divulge more than surface level information about.

“I thought it was quite obvious, it’s a book.” His nonchalant response through you for a loop, causing you to stammer a bit. However, he did not let you form a complete thought, steamrolling you with sudden excitement, “An old copy of Frankenstein to be exact, Shelley.”

Looking down you traced your fingers over the spine on the vintage book. You weren’t sure how old the book was, you’d have to check that later. It wasn’t that you didn’t see the potential value in owning an old edition of a book, but the gesture still confused you. Instead of dwelling on a question that you weren’t going to get a straight answer for if you asked, you tried to tease him, “But I have already read it, you know that.”

He took your jab at his listening skills in stride and again was cagey as always with his response, “I do know that, that isn’t why I bought it for you.”

“Why?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to potentially figure out.” He was now moving to leave the corner, about to leave you hanging in the wind scrambling to figure out whatever he was talking about. You scrambled to follow, which caused you to almost crash into him when he abruptly stopped. “I’ll give you a hint, flip to page 56.”

Flipping it open to the page you noticed that it wasn’t a page of any significance, no famous quotes were highlighted or major climactic scenes happening.

“There isn’t anything in here.” Exasperation was evident in your voice, he was too hard to read, certainly not as hard as the book in front of you. His intentions were the hardest to figure out, he could be stringing you along in his web, bringing you closer until he devoured you like a spider with a fly.

The air itself was filled with monsters, more like potential monsters lurking waiting to reveal their intentions. The dark was often desirable, but it would be naive of you to trust it without question. There was still something about Spencer that made you want to blindly trust without question that his monsters had beauty in them. You couldn’t deny that being devoured by him sounded enticing.

“Look again.” And with a fleeting kiss on your lips that he was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. It left you to wait until he graced you with his presence next with no way to contact him. At least that’s what you thought until you followed his suggestion and looked again.

There, nestled in between two pages of the book rested a strip of paper. The handwriting on it was messy, slanted heavily in one direction and partially smudged as if written rapidly. You could still make out the ten digits written in navy blue ink, your breath caught up in your throat at that.

At the bottom there was a simple dash then right next to it read his name, Spencer. With no titles or anything else written.

The simplicity of his name written sloppy in pen ink made you want to clutch it to your heart in disbelief. The book already was too much, to big a gesture for what was supposed to just be fucking in the library while saying clever things. You wondered if he had thought this through, thinking that by the state of how it was written it was done impulsively without thought. Though you hoped that was just how he always wrote, it would be another small slice of information of who he truly was.

In reality who knows what he was thinking, a mask was still firmly over his face in front of you. It may have had cracks that gave you glimpses at the man underneath, but it would be a lie to say you even knew the slightest bit about him beyond his name. There were some dots you could connect that may lead to somewhere or nowhere. You didn’t even know what his job was, so you weren’t going to pretend that you could properly analyze his handwriting. He could even be lying about every piece of information given thus far, only using it to pull you in quicker by the spider’s silk he was potentially spinning.

All that was still locked up there in his mind, not unlike when Jekyll locked himself up in his laboratory. You only hoped this phone number signaled that he may be willing to open up his mind to you, even with the serum that could turn him into something dark. He could shut you out, insisting that what he had done was a mistake, then sealing the cracks in his mask closed. But, you were too curious for your own good, you wanted to shatter the mask, to pull away the shroud of mystery, to tell you about the monsters lurking. All you had to do was call him, and maybe he’d let the monsters free.

Part One, Part Two

Ask Me Anything

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All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @takeyourleap-of-faith All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat Dom!Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb @jakobsdump @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde: @rainsong01 @dreatine @secretpickleprofessordean @evlfknb

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #30 fics in 30 days #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg smut

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superheroesofbothuniverses · 3 years ago

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Mission Not Completed: a Bucky and Daniel meeting

“How’s the List coming?” Sam asked Bucky as the two were unwinding on the plane home from a mission. They hadn’t talked about it in a few weeks, but Sam knew Bucky had been working on it, judging by his sporadic absences and the way he looked when he returned. Only Sarah dared go near him after one of these trips and after spending time with her, Bucky usually perked up.

Sam had given up trying to discourage them after seeing how serious they were and how clearly good they were for each other. At the same time, he never missed an opportunity to tease his friend and occasionally throw out a subtle threat. It was his solemn brotherly duty, after all.

“It’s coming,” Bucky sighed. “Crossed off three more names this month. I’ve got stuck on one currently, and it’s become a dead end. The man doesn’t seem to have any living relatives.”

He stared blankly off into space, trying not to think about wiping out a family line.

“That’s unusual,” Sam commented. “Not any nieces or nephews or cousins?”

“None living,” Bucky told him. “This was one of the early hits. 1955. I didn’t think I was going to find much, but I didn’t expect zero. I even read the guy’s file with Shield. He was one of the best. Worked with Peggy Carter and she had high praise for him.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who was he?” Sam asked.

“Daniel Sousa.” Bucky replied, closing his eyes as an unwanted memory went through his mind.

Sam, on the other hand, grew more alert and his eyes widened.

“Not to get your hopes up, but I have a contact who could do some digging. See if we can’t get some closure for you.”

Bucky pondered this and then shrugged.

“Why not?” He said. “Can’t hurt.”

Bucky switched his musings over to thoughts of Sarah and daydreams about a future with her, which were becoming more and more solid the more he spent time with her.

A few days later, Daisy Johnson sought out her boyfriend after a very interesting video conversation with Mack.

“Any interesting news?” Daniel asked, looking up from the book he was absorbed in. He was an avid bookworm and would read just about anything he could get his hands on.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact,” she told him, wondering how to approach the topic.

“What do you know about one James Buchanan Barnes?”

“He was a great soldier, a legend in the Howling Commandos and an excellent sniper,” Daniel said, eyes getting an excited gleam in them, like he was going all fanboy. “I wish I could have met him, but he was lost on a mission unfortunately.”

Daisy’s fingers flew on her tablet as she pulled up the information she needed.

“Well, I’ve got some news for you, honey,” she told him, handing him the tablet. “Read this.”

It was a long file, so Daisy plopped down beside him as he read and watched his expressions, which turned to shock, horror, anger, and then deep sadness. (Several swear words accompanied the anger phase.)

Finally, he handed the tablet back to her with a shake of his head, looking very serious.

“Wow. I had no idea. And he’s still alive?”

“Yes. According to Mack, he’s been completely freed from the brainwashing and is working with the new Captain America, Sam Wilson.”

“So, why were you talking about him?” Daniel asked.

Daisy took his hand in hers, finding it suddenly difficult to speak.

“You know how we faked your death when we kidnapped you out of 1955?”

Daniel nodded slowly.

“Well, Bucky Barnes, then the Winter Soldier, was who Hydra sent after you. He thinks he killed you.”

“Oh.” Daniel said, voice small. “Oh. Wow.”

He stared off into the distance, contemplating his continued existence yet again.

“Are you okay?” Daisy asked gently, cuddling up close to him supportively.

“Yeah, I just……..it’s a lot to process. Why was he looking for me now?”

“According to Sam, Bucky is trying to track down families of the Winter Soldier’s victims and tell them the truth about what happened. He couldn’t find anybody for you, so Sam went to Shield and talked to Mack, who talked to me.”

“Does he want to talk to me?”

“He doesn’t know you’re alive. Mack wanted your permission to tell them.”

“Oh, well, sure, you can tell them. Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet him: a fellow member of the Men Out Of Time club.

Daniel seemed to have recovered his humor with this comment and Daisy snorted, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re so resilient, Daniel,” she told him. “One of the many things I love about you.”

“You sitting down?” Sam asked Bucky, barging into their hotel room wearing what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

Bucky looked up warily from where he was checking their communication equipment with utmost care. He’d be darned if they blew a mission due to faulty comms.

“Yes. Why?

“Turns out you and Steve aren’t the only preserved relics from the forties.”

Bucky scowled at him. He greatly objected to the term relic, but didn’t want to waste his breath arguing.

“Oh? Somebody else get frozen for seventy years?” He asked grumpily.

“Not exactly,” Sam hedged. “I found out some info on Daniel Sousa today.”

Bucky sighed and put down the earpiece he was working with.

“Spill it.” He ordered.

“It turns out that Daniel Sousa’s death was completely faked and he is alive and well and looking surprisingly good for his age,” Sam told him, still grinning.

“Impossible,” Bucky muttered. “The soldier didn’t miss.” His forehead creased in a frown as he mentally reviewed the spotty memories of that day many decades ago.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I talked to him on a video chat today,” Sam said, becoming more serious. “There was definitely some time travel involved and expert staging. Coulson’s old crew decided Sousa was much too good to go out like that and they brought him with them back to the twenty-first century.”

“I would call bullshit, but after what we’ve seen, that’s not that much of a stretch,” Bucky finally sighed. “So, did you go ahead and tell him everything?”

“No. That’s not my story to tell. I heard his side and I told him I’d see if you’d like to talk to him yourself. He seemed almost eager for it. Said you were one of his heroes during the war.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose and he looked astonished.

“Wow. Hero is debatable, but I should probably talk to him.”

And that was how Bucky found himself sitting in front of a computer screen a week later, meeting another man out of time.

Sousa looked awestruck, not scared, and Bucky let himself relax and show the man a friendly smile.

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s an honor to meet you,” Daniel said, practically grinning from ear to ear. There was something very genuine about his expressions that put Bucky at ease very quickly.

“The same to you, Agent Sousa,” Bucky replied, stomach unknotting with the relaxed greeting. “How do you find the twenty-first century?”

“Bewildering, but good so far,” he said. “I’m still a bit of a fish out of water, but I’m liking the technology better. For one thing, Prosthetics have come a long way since the fifties.”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky agreed, briefly displaying his metal hand. Sousa’s jaw dropped.

“That’s marvelous!” He exclaimed. “I take it they replaced the Hydra made arm?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “This is made from vibranium. Vastly superior.”

And they were off on a long conversation about prosthetics and rehab and adjustments, which led to swapping war stories and Shield stories. Daniel described in gleeful detail how he’d first met Daisy in his office and how they’d faked his death and basically kidnapped him into the future. It didn’t take Bucky long to figure out the man was clearly head over heels for Agent Johnson, given how glowingly he talked about her and the little sappy smiles that occasionally lit up his face. There was no judgment to be had from Bucky, though. He was pretty sure his own face wore a similar expression whenever he looked at Sarah.

“It means a lot that you were willing to talk to me, Daniel,” Bucky told him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Daniel said graciously. “Like I said, I looked up to you.”

Bucky swallowed hard. The way Daniel casually, but sincerely professed his admiration meant a lot to him.

“Wow. And you’re not completely disillusioned?” He asked with a self-deprecating smile.

“Nope,” Sousa smiled, again with that adorable sincerity that made Bucky think of Steve.

“The fact that I was enough of a pain in Hydra’s side for them to send their top assassin after me tells me I was doing my job well,” he remarked.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Bucky grinned, shaking his head at how unflappable this guy was. No wonder they’d made him the head Of the LA division.

“I hope you’re able to find the closure you’re looking for,” Daniel told him as they prepared to end their chat.

“Thanks. Safe travels,” Bucky wished him. “Next time you’re on planet, look me up. We can grab a drink, be weird old guys, that sort of thing.”

Daniel chuckled. “I will, Sergeant Barnes. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky sat thoughtfully for a few minutes after he’d hung up, then slowly pulled his little book out of his pocket. Instead of crossing out Daniel’s name like he’d done with the others, he circled it.

Mission NOT completed, he thought, feeling lighter at the thought.

#fanfic #bucky barnes #Daniel Sousa #agents of shield #the falcon and the winter soldier

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thelovelyghostwriter · 4 years ago

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Some of my favourite female characters in fiction

This list is not exhaustive and while I do have other characters that I find charming and that I love, I have noted these characters because in my opinion, they have struggled and/or there is a certain analysis to their personalities.

Please take note that some of the characters are not morally good or have done questionable actions. This is not to discuss or say they are role models, but rather to write up what they represented, their role in the story or simply their personalities. I’m not here to justify the character’s actions.

Remember that a well-written characters do not have to be morally good.

Also, a lot of them are from memory and the analysis aren’t well-structured.

Let’s dive in:

1. Daisy Buchanan from The Great Gatsby

Daisy, in my opinion, is incredibly misunderstood and unjustifiably hated among the readers. Her betrayal to Gatsby is indeed vile and it did upset me, I definitely think that she is materialistic, shallow and hurtful.

“I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”

Daisy did shit on Gatsby [trying to avoid spoilers here].

However, I do like to note that I think part of her materialism and shallowness is because of how women were in the 1920s. They did not have any freedom or agency. To Tom, she seems to be a trophy wife for him to keep; and to Gatsby, he only liked the idea of her, he wasn’t in love with her. To everyone around her, she was an item, a beautiful doll to be possessed, rather than a person. I think that’s why she turned out like that.

She's materialistic because men around her sees her as an object. Nonetheless, Daisy is still “careless” and hurtful; and I think this stemmed from the life she had led that were a compilation of choices that were made for her. Her betrayal towards Gatsby is what makes her character rather disappointing to most readers. The whiteness in her dress as described in her first appearance? It’s not innocence, but rather a void and jadedness.

2. Neon Nostrade from Hunter x Hunter

Yet, another girl in our list that loves to be hated by the fandom. Though honestly, most of her haters are Chrollo and Kurapika stans who gets jealous because Chrollo got to hang out with her and Kurapika works under her. Also her repulsive hobby - although this is actually what makes me like her.

I have addressed this in my other posts before, but let me just copy and paste them (and modify a bit): Her upbringing and exploitation by her dad makes her materialistic and emotionally detached. This materialism and detachment is manifested in the form of her hobby as a dead body parts collector. But other than that, she’s really a normal girl, just sheltered and spoilt. The money she spends are even from her talent Lovely Ghostwriter, her father will be nothing without her. So I don’t see an issue with her spending them on shopping etc.

In fact, I would argue that she bathes in materialism to fill the emptiness that she has. Her father is more concerned with her ability and power, she has no friends and is guarded 24/7 by employees.

All the times she threw tantrums and the way she talks… it’s a different speech pattern altogether when she interacts with Chrollo - which may suggest that the whole spoilt attitude is exaggerated to gain attention from a father who is indulgent in terms of material gifts, but not in terms of affection and time for her.

When Eliza cried, she was willing to forgo bidding the auction physically. Yes she did not care about the bodyguards because she is more focused on the living and the present (Eliza) than the dead.

The reason why she didn’t seem fazed when Dalzollene and the others died is because a) they were her bodyguards, it’s their job to put their life on the line to protect her, b) she mentioned to Chrollo that her fortune-telling is for the living, she likes to live in the present and doesn’t believe in the afterlife.

Neon is more focused on who is alive, rather than the dead (which also represented by her hobby of dead body parts collecting). She focuses on the present, unlike her clients who likes to know their future or people who dwell in the past. Kurapika on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He dwells on the past and likes to focus on his dead clan rather than the present times with his friends (which is completely understandable).

Another significance is that her fortune-telling ability is very useful and helpful, she says that she wanted to make people happy with it; but however, it is commercialized and used as a means of power (knowledge of the future = power) by her father and pretty much everyone around her. Just like how she objectifies dead people by collecting their parts, the people around her sees her as a tool due to her fortune-telling abilities, rather than see her as a person. Even Kurapika chose to get employed under her, for his own agenda (he is bound to meet dead body parts collectors at some point).

She treats people like objects because people see her as one.

Of course, collecting dead body parts is a pretty fucked hobby; but what she represents and her role as a minor character is what makes her an outstanding minor female character in the show.

Yes. She has traits that are not your typical role model, but neither are other hxh characters. She’s not independent, naive, can’t fight, in need of saving, uncaring at times and spoilt. She is far from so-called “strong female character” that we often look up to. She is a character with bad traits which is a result of being a victim. But that’s what makes me love her as a character in hxh. It reminds us that there are girls out there who has lack of freedom and control over their own fate; and their only way out is through materialism and detaching themselves from people.

In fact, she might be even relateable to some people more than other female characters because there is vulnerability in her character.

3. Hua Mulan (Mostly the Chinese 2009 film, though the most well-known is the Disney 1998 animated film)

There has been various adaptations for this character, with the Disney Animated version being the most prominent.

However, my favourite one is definitely the Chinese film Hua Mulan: Rise of A Warrior (2009). It portrays the horrors of war and the suffering it brings, nationalism, camaraderie among the army - all while giving us the admirable Mulan climbing up to the ranks of being a war general.

I highly recommend this adaptation. I know the Disney Live Action 2020 version did not receive good reception, and we honestly did not need one because this 2009 Chinese film does the job well (I like their soundtrack though). It's not really well-known because it's a Chinese film (which is hella ironic because Hua Mulan is a Chinese character? Lmao).

"Today we will stain the battlefield with our blood. Behind us is our homeland. If we have to bleed out our last drop of blood, if we have to become bleached bones in this desert, we must defend it to the death! We must let the Rourans know we Wei warriors will never surrender and will never compromise! Soldiers may rebel against me, generals may leave me for dead, but I, Hua Mulan, will never betray my country!"

Generally, I either have an issue with strong female characters because they are just shallow (meaning they are only physically strong, often viewing rudeness, misandry and independence as strength). I like female characters who are so much more to that.

Mulan, in this film, not only showed her badassery in fighting the war for more than a decade, but we also see how much she struggled. Everytime her comrades die, her heart gets broken. Yet she has to learn how to pick herself up and become the leader that they need. She dislikes war, she dislikes the bloodshed; yet she fights for her country.

To me, a strong female character is not just a feminist icon or someone who can fight. In fact, a female character doesn't need to be someone capable of fighting, what makes her strong is to be able to overcome turbulence with determination.

I think this is something that is lacking in recent "strong female characters" - showing us their strength through perseverance.

As for the Disney's counterpart (talking about the 1998 film here), it is less morbid but we also see her trying her best to make her family proud and protect her country. Like the song Reflection and Loyal, Brave and True, she struggles with finding her purpose and her role in her family.

"The greatest gift of honour, is having you for a daughter."

4. Blanche Dubois from A Streetcar Named Desire

It's been years since I had analysed Blanche, but among all the 6 books that I had to study for English Literature, A Streetcar Named Desire has been my absolute favourite.

I think what struck me in this book is not just the style, but Blanche's vulnerability. Her actions are definitely not morally good: she misrepresents things, she lies, she even had sex with an underage student. She's paranoid, mentally unstable and prissy. Which was why, her polar opposite character, Stanley, is so annoyed with her.

After her husband's suicide, we see Blanche relying on the company of men to fill the void of her loneliness and misery. She is also concerned about her beauty fading with age - I find that highly reliable. It sounds incredibly "vain", but beauty does play a part.

Based on Evolutionary and Mating Theories among humans, appearance in women are especially important (also for men but not as much as women). Of course, there are other factors and traits that people find attractive, but Blanche's concern is valid here. She needs to find a husband to escape from her financial troubles; and her age, beauty and chastity plays a huge factor in her search for getting a man in the setting she was in (which was Mitch in this case). Ironically, these are the very traits that she has "lost" and so desperately tries to hide it.

Her ending is truly a devastating and upsetting one. [Will not talk about it due to spoilers]

"I've always depended on the kindness of strangers."

5. Haibara Ai/Shiho Miyano from Detective Conan

Perhaps one of the girls that is a wasted potential. In a series where the characters are mostly flat, she's arguably the most multi-faceted (but somehow I had heard that she no longer has the same complexity as she used to have - it's been a while since I followed this series).

But I remember absolutely loving this character.

Her background story is really unique in the show and one that is embedded within the Black Organisation plotline (why her character was dropped... Forever frustrating for me).

From the moment she was first introduced, we see Conan taking an immediate distrust towards her. A guy who is a detective who had been catching criminals - yet one ex-syndicate member stands before him. The one that actually helped to develop the APTX4869 that changed his life.

Yet, we see that it wasn't entirely within her control. Both her parents were syndicate members and when her sister tries to get both of them to leave, her sister dies.

Ai starts off as seemingly cold, pessimistic and avoidant. But as her arc goes on, the iceberg around her melts. We see her quirky sarcastic replies, her taste for fashion and she genuinely desires to be happy. Her relationship with Conan developed into a beautiful one - to the point where Conan trusts her with anything and they would risk their lives for one another.

Yet, we also empathies with her impending jealousy and heartache. The boy she has fallen for already has someone else. What's more, the girl is genuinely kind and is a splitting image of her sister. After Ran saved her from Vermouth, she quickly warms up to Ran as well.

She's also the key to developing the antidote for Shinichi to be back with Ran - an almost painful metaphor for her to give him away (he never belonged to her in the first place). Yet, she doesn't really stop them from being together (even though in some cases she appears jealous or phrase ShinRan's reunion as a word of caution).

I definitely think she is the most compelling character in Detective Conan because of her character development and the struggles she faces. It's definitely upsetting that her character has been neglected.

“Don’t judge people from the outside. Like any rose has thorns, the more the person appears nice on the outside, the more you should doubt the inside.”

6. Misato Katsuragi from Neon Genesis Evangelion

Who is the best female character in Eva? Asuka or Rei? My answer will always be Misato, Risato is a close second (I wanted to analyse Risato, but I’m trying to keep it to one person per series). Misato is one of the 90s anime babes. She definitely captivated many people’s heart.

I must say though, I have a soft spot towards female characters who has some sort of daddy issues (why I like Neon Nostrade). It’s been a while since I had watched Eva, but I’m going to try to remember why I like her.

I think the concept of Hedgehog’s Dilemma has been echoed throughout the series, and all the characters seem to struggle with emotional attachment towards people. I actually like to phrase the Hedgehog Dilemma as “Avoidant-Fearful Attachment Style” - wanting connection with people, yet not being able to do so out of fear of being hurt.

For Misato, when I initially first watched Eva, I compared her a little to Blanche Dubois in how they cope with loneliness - their sexuality. I remember being confused with her interactions with Shinji, who was half her age. At times, she serves as his guardian/mother figure; but at some moments (I think it was sometimes after Kaji’s death), she tried to seek comfort with Shinji by attempting to initiate sex (which Shinji rejects). I remember coming across a comment somewhere that Shinji and Misato’s relationship is somewhat like Humbert and Dolores (from Lolita) - can’t comment on this as I only read the first chapter of the book.

It makes me think that she uses sex as a way to cope and the only way she can connect with people (and it’s superficial), which doesn’t work for Shinji because she needs to be her guardian (and ultimately fails to be purely his guardian once she crossed that no-no boundary).

Another thing to note was her backstory about her dad. There seems to be a dissonance, given that she resented her dad for not spending time with her due to his work, but he ended up sacrificing her life for her. I do think it’s a bit of guilt (because resenting her dad but he saves her - these two contradicts one another). It’s clear that her issues to connect stems from her backstory regarding her father.

It’s interesting how she compares Kaji to her father. I do think she loves Kaji, but “reminds him too much of her father” (as to put it simply). There is this... stereotype that we find someone similar to our opposite-gender parents, no matter how shitty they were towards us. I believe that it is because we tend to stick to something that is familiar to us, even if those type of people aren’t good for us (I think to break this cycle is to practise self-awareness and know what is good for us).

Anyway, Misato is a character that I really liked (as all the characters in Eva) because they highlight Hedgehog’s Dilemma that stemmed from their parental issues. Maybe I have not watched a lot of anime, but female characters with issues with their fathers are not as explored deeply as male characters and their parental issues. A lot of times, female characters (especially in shounen) serves as a romantic interest and yes they can have really sad backstory, but not issues towards their father and how it affects their relationship with other people. So far, the only ones I had seen is Mukuro (Yu Yu Hakusho), Misato and Neon Nostrade.

7. Disney's Cinderella

First of all, she has been a victim of abuse since she was a child. It's not easy for her to escape her predicament. Where can she go? It's not that easy.

Boy. I hate how much people remember Cinderella wrongly and attack her for being "backwards", which is actually factually wrong.

Cinderella always get flack for using the Prince to "escape" her predicament when "she can do it herself".

I say that's bullshit. I actually came across a youtube video: Cinderella Stop Blaming the Victim [please check it out for more in-depth analysis]

Despite all that, she's doesn't internalize it. She knows she doesn't deserve to be treated this way, and she does to a certain degree stand up to them (whenever the cat makes her tasks harder). She knows when to fight back and restrain herself because it might endanger her life.

After years of suffering in this domestic household, she remains kind, compassionate and hopeful. Which is not an easy feat. The problem is, these traits are often seen as feminine and synonymous with being weak. But it is actually, in fact, signs of strength. The mental fortitude she has to remain kind after all she went through is a sign of strength.

The Fairy Godmother only appeared when she was losing hope - take note that she ends up crying because her stepsisters tore her mother’s dress (which is the most disturbing scene in the film).

Even I had remembered this wrongly - one crucial fact is that... She did not want to go the ball to nab the Prince. That was her stepsisters. Homegirl just wanted to chill. She did not even know she was dancing with the Prince!

When Lady Tremaine locked her up to prevent her from reaching the Prince, it wasn’t the Prince that saved her. She and her animal friends got her out of the room, and proceeded to prove that she was indeed the maiden that had danced with the Prince. Her marrying the Prince was only a fitting end to her because it provides her a home and an escape from an abusive household; however, it was her resilience for holding onto fate and being mentally strong, and her initiatives partially contributed to her happy end. The Prince is more like a passive character.

I highly think that people tend to brush her traits - e.g. compassion, having fate, being kind is listed as feminine. However, it is far from being weak, which most people would deem it as. But that is definitely not true.

“No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish can come true.”

8. Mikasa Ackerman from Attack on Titan

Mikasa is either a hit or miss among AOT fans. Some people like Mikasa because she is physically strong and her loyalty to Eren is admirable. On the other hand, some people think she’s clingy and her being physically strong makes her a Mary Sue.

Whether or not you like Mikasa, there is a fact that she is not a Mary Sue. The definition of a Mary Sue is a female character lacking in weakness and seems perfect.

She is physically strong, yes - I believe that Isayama wanted to distribute traits to the trio. Even Hannes has said it in S1. Armin represents intellect, Eren represents grit and Mikasa represents strength. So her being physically strong makes sense, and Isayama also provided an explanation for it (being an Ackerman).

However, this does not mean she lacks any weakness. Arguably, her loyalty to Eren is both a liability and her strength. This “weakness” has been highlighted by her dilemma between her loyalty towards Eren and her belief that mass genocide is wrong.

[I won’t go into details about the manga parts that have not been animated as of 2021, can’t spoil it too much].

#daisy buchanan #mikasa ackerman #misato katsuragi #evangelion #cinderella #mulan #haibara ai #ai haibara #detective conan #shiho miyano #neon nostrade #hxh #hunterxhunter #blanche dubois #a streetcar named desire

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solarviolet · 4 years ago

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daisy pt.2 • bucky barnes

bucky’s metal arm gets an upgrade

word count : 858 warnings : none! (but let me know if you find any)

a/n : as i started writing this i got an idea for a part three to this tiny series ! so expect another daisy fic soon <3

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he was hiding something; you were sure of it. but you made no comments about it. instead choosing to ignore how he’d leave for a few hours each day, watching as he comes back home with a giddy smile on his face.

you trust bucky, but you can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding from you.

one day while you’re at the avengers’ compound, you spot bucky walking out of the room with tony. they’re whispering, heads next to each other’s, as you watch them with narrowed eyes, suspicious of their every move.

natasha notices that you’ve stopped speaking to her and she watches you with a twinkle in her eyes. she coughs and your head snaps back to hers.

“are you ok daisy?” she asks you with concern, but there’s a teasing smirk on her face. your head tilts and eyes narrow as you stare at her with confusion. with a sickly-sweet tone, you talk to her.

“natty … what is bucky up to and what are you all hiding from me?”

eyes narrowed and arms crossed you stare her down, not moving, not even an inch. you watch as her smirk grows bigger and soon her body is shaking with laughter. you’re standing there in shock as she just laughs and laughs, not believing how nonchalant she is.

huffing you turn around and walk out of the room in frustration. sighing you head out to the grassy area that’s just outside the compound. you lay down and watch the sky for a while. you’re lost in your thoughts when bucky suddenly enters your vision. ignoring him, you roll onto your stomach, instead finding the grass very interesting. you hear him sigh and you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at your childish behaviour.

he sits down next to your head and stares at you with a grin on his face. minutes pass by like that until you can tell he’s getting antsy because of how you ignore him.

“daisyyy … baby, why are you ignoring me? huh? c’mon talk to me princess” you can hear the pout in his voice and a chuckle leaves your mouth. you’ve never been able to resist him when he acts like this and he knows, using it to his advantage.

rolling your eyes, you glance up at bucky only to find him already looking at you. you notice that he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt, which is odd seeing as it’s summer and the weather is extremely hot on this day. the sight of his clothes makes you sit up and your eyes run over his face with a calculating look, wondering what is going on.

“bucky … james buchanan barnes, why are you wearing that shirt on this hot day? why? what are you hiding from me? and no you’re not getting away with it this time, i’m tired of this”

he doesn’t say a word, instead choosing to smile at you, which only serves to make your frustration grow to maddening heights. “i have a surprise for you baby, you ready to see it?”

you nod rapidly, not able to handle all this suspense from your man. he tells you to cover your eyes and you quickly close them with your hands. you can hear the sound of rustling clothes, which piques your interest. bucky hums and a few seconds later he asks you to open your eyes again.

the first thing you notice is that he’s shirtless and it makes a soft heat flood through your body. he smirks as he sees the blush spread on your face.

“um, sorry sir, but if this is your surprise then it’s a really bad one” you tell him with a straight-faced look. bucky throws his head back and a booming laugh leaves his body. “no daisy, this isn’t your surprise, hold on, give me a moment”.

he turns his body to show you his metal arm. a loud gasp leaves your body as you look at his metal arm. eyes open in shock with your mouth wide open. you can’t believe it, no you must be dreaming, because right there, right in front of your eyes is bucky’s metal arm with a daisy on it.

tears fill your eyes as you stare at it. lifting your head up, you look at bucky with tears streaming down your face, unable to utter a word to him. you bring his new metal arm to your lap and run your hands all over it. you look at it with amazement, loving the daisy that’s on there. surprising bucky, you lean down, and press kisses on to his arm.

his other hand comes up to run his hands through your hair, calming you down. “bucky … i-i can’t believe this, you did this for me?” letting go of his arm, you reach up to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as he softly smiles at you.

“all for you, daisy. just for you baby. i needed something on me that would remind me of you at all times, so i came up with this”.

“now you’ll always be with me, my little daisy”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky imagines #marvel imagines

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puppypeter · 4 years ago

Text

Mind the tags and come cry with me.

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

ox hunger | 24026 words

Steve asks, “What’s going on, Buck?”

As in What’s Eating Bucky Barnes.

Except of course it’s more like What’s Bucky Barnes Eating.

(The answer to both questions would be sometimes nothing, sometimes everything.)

The Saga Of Bucky’s Duck | 1168 words

"It's a rubber duck," Steve says. "To keep you company when you're taking a bath."

Colors | 1383 words

The man shows him a new picture. A large blond man was huddled in the center of the paper, his face hidden in his hands. Surrounding him were pictures of another man with brown hair. Underneath were the words I have nightmares, too.

The Soldier doesn’t know how to draw 'safe', so he draws 'hurt'.

Circling Back | 59642 words

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him.

The Barriers Between | 6093 words

Bucky's been keeping his bed-wetting a secret from Steve at the cost of their relationship, but the secret being out doesn't make it better.

Holding Pattern | 13565 words

This hadn't been a problem before Bucky had fallen from the damn train. But Hydra had their rules, and The Asset had quickly learned to follow them to the letter, however painful that was. Because the punishment was always far, far worse...

Unfortunately, not everything was as easy to undo after The Asset returned to life as Bucky Barnes.

Took My Love, Took It Down | 31785 words

The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him.

Always & Always | 17233 words

“I always liked daisies,” Sam confessed, only after Clint admitted he had a fond admiration for lavender and Wanda said she loved baby’s breath.

“I’m growing those,” Bucky told Sam.

Sam took a long sip of his drink, face smoothing over. “I’m deathly allergic.”

[OR the one where Bucky uses gardening as a coping mechanism, learns the language of flowers and starts dropping hints about his true feelings left, right and center—Steve can’t help it if he’s a little slow on the uptake.]

The Diaries of Bucky Barnes | 15208 words

"This young soldier was writing about war, but not only that. No, the most remarkable extracts from his diaries are the ones about emotions; those passages in which he writes about loss and pain and loyalty and love."

When Bucky Barnes’ diaries are leaked in the 70s, reactions vary from one thing to another, even decades later.

The Right Way To Fall | 41481 words

He's just scruffy enough that most people would avoid eye contact in case he asked them for change. But his eyes are startling blue and stark and wild, and he looks at Sam and Sam looks at him, and yeah. Turns out he knows where Bucky is after all.

Except, Sam reminds himself, this isn't Bucky. This is the Winter Soldier, who's gone completely, absolutely still like an animal trying to decide whether to attack or run. And Sam is suddenly, terribly aware of all the people around them: all the tourists and the kids on their field trips; all the families with their babies and toddlers; all the sentimental fools like him come to visit Captain America on an overcast Wednesday afternoon.

But Sam has also seen that expression on the men and women who come to his counseling sessions. He's seen it in the mirror more times than he cares to count. He knows that kind of fear and pain, just like he knows that the man who was once James Buchanan Barnes could have already killed him. Killed as many people as he wanted to, and run.

He could have, but he didn't.

The Simple Life | 114329 words

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

If You Love Me Now | 3869 words

“You signed up for the guy that would pull you out of fights and steal candies from Harvey’s with you. Not this. You never signed up for this. You can be done, Steve, really. You don’t need me. You don’t have to feel guilty about not sticking around now. I’m not worth your free time, and I’m sure as hell not worth breaking up the fucking Avengers for.”

The one in which Bucky has a hard time believing he deserves love and Steve is there to give him all that he has.

All These Things That I Have Done | 125461 words

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) | 20605 words

The Associated Press @AP Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

The Soldier and The Mountain | 110765 words

This is a story about recovering from rape, society's apathy toward victims of campus assault, and one man's trial to escape an abusive relationship in a world where men are painted as the batterer. When James Barnes, professional dancer, starts realizing his long-term boyfriend isn't interested in a healthy relationship, he meets Steve Rogers, one of his boyfriend's victims and a soon-to-be-graduate from NYU. Their friendship seems impossible, but maybe they are what the other needs to start clawing out of their traumatic pasts. The road is long and arduous, but recovery always is.

#stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic list #heartbreaking stucky fics #puppy peter fic recs #stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #recovery fics #poor buck buck #bucky whump #bucky angst #sorry for swearing but these fic hurt lmao #but i love it #please mind the tags!!!!

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wyomingescalators · 4 years ago

Text

Gatsby - chapter three rewrite

[Author’s note: I was procrastinating doing uni work and decided to rewrite chapter 3 of The Great Gatsby. It’s fairly similar to the original, but there are some differences]. Word count: 4920.

There was music from my neighbor’s house throughout the warm summer nights. By seven the orchestra arrives, the swimmers are upstairs getting changed, and the cars are already parked five deep in the drive and nearly hitting party-goers as they dash across the drive towards the entrance. Hallways, gardens and rooms are already filled with groups of people, all of whom are dressed brightly and with the intention of being seen. As each minute passes, the attendees grow looser, more relaxed, more cheerful. Alcohol continued to flow from the bars like waterfalls, with cocktail glasses never leaving people’s hands. The air became more and more alive with conversations, laughter, music and promptly forgotten introductions. As the night progressed, the lights would grow brighter, the music would grow louder and the voices would grow in volume and confidence. Laughter became easier and would echo and spill into the night, groups would melt and shift, and those dancing began to move with more conviction.

Normally at around this hour I would be stood in my kitchen, preparing dinner, trying to avoid looking out of the window at another one of Gatsby’s parties so I don’t cause another wave of loneliness to erupt within me. Yet inevitably my eyes would be drawn to the glowing crowds filling Gatsby’s estate. Their voices and laughter would reach me from within my house, practically taunting me with how lonely I am - a bachelor of almost thirty with a calendar so empty that you could have swapped it with a blank page and I wouldn’t notice the difference for a good few days.

Fortunately for me, I did not have to spend my summer alone, reminiscing over previous summers where I was more than just some nobody that occasionally made an appearance at the Buchanan’s dinner table. Early one Saturday morning, I opened my front door to find a chauffeur in blue uniform with an invitation in hand. I felt somewhat embarrassed, considering I had answered the door a matter of minutes after I woke up, meaning I was still in my dressing gown and with my hair not combed. But the chauffeur left quickly and without a word uttered to me. I looked over the very formal note as I drank my morning coffee. In the note, Gatsby informed me that he would be honoured if I attended his “little party” that night.

Shortly after arriving - dressed in a simple black suit - I discovered that I was the only one who had actually been invited. At no point did anyone request to see my invitation, nor did I see anyone else wielding one. In fact, I suspected that hardly anyone there had even met Gatsby, they simply showed up because a friend of a friend knows Gatsby’s cousin (or some other wild and dubious connection), and that vague connection gave them permission to act how they pleased once they arrived at Gatsby’s.

I attempted to find my host once I arrived, but after a few awkward interactions with party-goers who didn’t even know what the man looked like, let alone where he was, I slipped away to the nearest cocktail table. At least there I could like I had some purpose without drawing attention to the fact I had been living in this area for so little time that I could count my acquaintances on one hand.

Within my first hour being there I’d had enough drinks that the dance floor was starting to look appealing, but I wasn’t drunk enough to venture there alone. I would require a partner, someone else to dance alongside me in order to conceal my poor and drunken coordination. To my relief, as I finished yet another drip with a sharp gulp and ordered another, I finally spotted a familiar face within the crowd. Jordan Baker stood, drink elegantly in hand, looking through the sea of people with a look of almost boredom.

Fresh drink in hand, I quickly walked to her. It was probably for the best that I attached myself to someone before I made a fool out of myself by trying to make new connections with passers-by.

“Care for a dance?” I asked as I reached her.

Jordan raised her eyebrows. “Someone’s made use of Gatsby’s hospitality.”

“Pardon?” I felt my cheeks turn hot.

She laughed briefly. “No need to get embarrassed. I was just remarking that you seem like you’re having fun.”

“Oh!” I decided to take a few hearty sips of my drink rather than say anything else.

“I thought you might be here. I remember that you live next door,” Jordan continued, looking around.

“Yes. Well, this is my first time here, actually.” Each word that came out of my mouth seemed to stumble out and awkwardly fall. How much had I had to drink?

“How about we go outside?” Jordan suggested. A slight hint at how she had registered that I was not sober.

With her slender arm linked with mine, we weaved through the crowds and slipped outside. The cool, night air was welcome against my warm skin. We descended the steps and reached the warmly lit garden. The voices and music were less harsh on my ears here than they were inside. We sat ourselves down at one of the tables. Two girls and three men sat at the same table as us, absorbed in their own conversations. The general hum of chatter and music was soothing to me.

“Do you go to parties much, Nick?” Jordan asked me.

“This is the second one I have been to this summer, if you don’t include the dinner parties,” I answered.

“What was the first party?”

“Oh, just some party with Tom Buchanan,” I replied vaguely, taking another sip of my drink.

Jordan took a sip of hers, not inquiring further. She probably assumed my vagueness was because of the attendees, and while she was somewhat correct to assume that - after all, Daisy hadn’t been invited to that particular gathering - I was actually being vague because of another attendee, and more specifically what we did after the party. I don’t think Myrtle, Tom or Catherine know what happened, or even suspected. They were too focused on Myrtle’s broken nose. They didn’t notice Mr McKee and I slip away for a few hours. Though the elevator boy certainly noticed.

Consumed in thought about what had happened the other week, I had lost track of the conversations going on around me. Jordan had begun a conversation with the two girls next to me. The girls - Lucille and Essie - were discussing their experience the last time they went to one of Gatsby’s parties. Lucille had torn her dress and Gatsby had sent her an expensive replacement, which she would have worn if it didn’t require adjustments.

I tuned in as the topic of their conversation changed from torn dresses to who Gatsby was. Jordan and the two girls were leaning close together, as were the three men. I leaned in also.

“Somebody told me they thought he killed a man once,” Essie told us in a hushed voice.

This mysterious man was coming into focus. One tiny piece of the story told us that he was dangerous and rich, maybe even powerful. A thrill passed over us at the thought of such a man.

“I don’t think that’s what happened exactly.” Lucille was sceptical. “It’s more that he was a German spy during the war.”

One of the men nodded in agreement.

Essie rolled her eyes. “He couldn’t have been a German spy. He was in the American army during the war. Look at him when he thinks nobody’s looking at him. I bet he killed a man.”

We all looked around, a shiver passing over us. Perhaps it was a testimony to romantic speculation that we almost expected to find this man in our midst, with crimson stained hands and wild eyes. After all, don’t most powerful and dangerous men have blood on their hands? While Tom wasn’t as remarkable or influential as he used to be, I remembered him during his prime days in college. His hands are certainly stained red.

“Let’s get out,” whispered Jordan.

“Why?” I whispered back.

Lucille and Essie returned to their own conversation.

“This conversation is too polite for my tastes,” Jordan replied, standing up.

I stood also. “Too polite? How?”

She didn’t answer, instead walking away. I followed. Jordan then explained that we were going to find the host. She felt uneasy at how she hadn’t met him, and Lucille and Essie hadn’t helped her unease.

We went to the bar first. Gatsby was nowhere to be seen, but we finished and replaced our drinks while we were there. We could not find him outside, within the conversations at the candlelit tables. We could not find him on the steps or veranda. Nor on the dance floor, or at the cocktail tables, or by the piano that a blond, drunk man was playing.

Jordan and I stumbled upon a large, Gothic library within Gatsby’s mansion. I suspected the library had been imported from another mansion somewhere. A short, middle-aged man, with enormous owl-eyed spectacles, was halfway up a ladder against one of the towering bookshelves. He was grabbing books at random, flicking through them and then tossing them to the floor with a bang. I was concerned he would fall.

He turned to us with excitement as we entered.

“What do you think?” He tossed another book to the ground.

“About what?” Jordan asked.

I finished my drink and placed it on a large table, covered in empty glasses and discarded books.

He gestured to the bookshelves. “About all of this. They’re real!”

“The books?”

He nodded. “Absolutely real. I thought they were cardboard at first.”

“I didn’t realise whether or not the contents of Gatsby’s library are real was a matter of concern,” Jordan remarked.

He carried on, not reacting to anything Jordan was saying, a book in hand. “See! It’s real. A piece of printed material. All of these books are. What realism! He even knew when to stop, he didn’t even cut the pages. But what do you expect, really?”

Jordan and I exchanged glances as he tossed the book onto the ground among all the other books he’d thrown.

He didn’t stop talking. “Who brought you? Or did you just come? I was brought. Most people were brought.”

“I’ll have whatever he’s drank,” Jordan whispered to me.

Out of politeness, I tried not to laugh in front of the man.

“I was brought by a woman named Roosevelt,” he continued. “Mrs Claud Roosevelt. Do you know her? I met her somewhere last night. I’ve been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in the library.”

“Has it?” Jordan asked.

“I think so? I can’t tell. I’ve only been in here an hour. Did I tell you about the books-”

“Yes.”

We politely excused ourselves and left him to it. As I closed the library door behind us, I wondered who would clean the books up from the floor tomorrow.

The party-goers were only getting drunker. Their dancing was growing more fluid and free, each song injecting everyone with more energy and life. Laughter, cheers and singing grew louder as the hours slid by. By midnight the hilarity had increased, alcohol poured down our throats easier, our limbs moved with more ease. The world felt warmer, livelier, more at ease. The moon rose higher along with the music and our moods.

Despite the cosy, lively atmosphere around us, Jordan and I hadn’t ventured into the dance floor yet. Instead we remained by the edge, half empty drinks in hand, moving ever so slightly to the music. Then Jordan was pulled into the fray of the dance floor by some girl, and she joined a group of girls, dancing together in a group. Separating me from the group were couples who were dancing together in pairs and keeping to the more civilized edge of the dance floor.

A man I was stood next to gave me a smile. “Your face is familiar. Weren’t you in the First Division during the war?”

“Yes. I was in the Twenty-eighth Infantry,” I replied, glad I could be making conversation with someone new.

We talked briefly about some gray, little villages in France. He revealed that he lived nearby, as he told me he had bought a hydroplane and was going to try it out in the morning. So, he was rich. But I was only half paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. I was more paying attention to his appearance. He was undeniably handsome. His eyes were intoxicating to me, and I couldn’t help but be drawn into them.

“Want to go with me, old sport? Just near the shore along the sound.”

“What time?”

He smiled. I was already growing fond of that smile. “Any time that suits you best.”

I found myself smiling. I then took a sip of my drink, worried I was smiling too much. I had grown slightly nervous around him, despite the soothing alcohol flowing through me. I only sipped my drink because I needed something to do during this lull in the conversation.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“I am,” I said. “This is a strange party for me. I haven’t even seen the host. I live just next door. This man, Gatsby, sent over a chauffeur with an invitation. I thought everyone got invited, but I seem to be the only one.”

The man looked at me with confusion, as if I was missing an obvious clue. “I’m Gatsby.”

“Oh! I beg your pardon.” I felt my cheeks turn hot in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good host.”

Gatsby then gave me another smile, and it conveyed more than just him silently telling me that he understood. It was one of those rare smiles, with a comforting warmth to it. It was more than just the common, loving smiles you would gain from someone you were close to. The smile Gatsby gave me reassured me that he understood me completely, that whatever flaws of mine I revealed to him would never be capable of turning him away from me, and that he believed in me unwaveringly and wholeheartedly. His smile drew me in, and filled my chest with a heated energy I had not felt in a long time, not even during that time with Mr McKee. My heart began to beat faster. What I felt in that moment was more than some simple, primal want. It was a burst of life that erupted in my chest and spread out through my body. It was a feeling that made all the moments before now finally make sense. It was a feeling that gave my life some form of purpose in this strange, growing world.

Objectively speaking, the smile Gatsby gave me was a brief one, lasting maybe a few seconds at most before fading into a smile more small and polite, but during those few seconds I just wanted to lean in towards him and bring him closer to me. Yet I couldn’t. I was left there, less than a metre from him, startled by the wave of emotion that had just swept over me.

As I came down from that intense few seconds, a butler hurried towards Gatsby, informing him that Chicago was calling him on the wire. He then excused himself with a small bow.

“If you want anything just ask for it, old sport,” he urged me. “Excuse me. I’ll rejoin you later.”

Even if I had the nerve to tell him what I truly wanted, I didn’t have the time, as he vanished into the crowd.

I finished my drink, trying to calm myself, and that was when I noticed Jordan had returned to my side.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Nick?” Jordan asked.

“Pardon?”

“I saw your reaction when Gatsby smiled at you. You looked completely smitten.”

“I- It wasn’t like that. I just thought he- I was- He was being-” The words were crashing out of my mouth in a jumbled mess as I tried to come up with something to say. In my drunken state I had considered telling Jordan what happened after I went to Tom’s little party the other week, but I decided against it at the last second. While she wasn’t the most moral out of the people around us, how would she react to this?

Jordan laughed. “I don’t judge you for it! I just thought your reaction to him smiling was rather sweet.”

I wished I was capable of going more than five minutes at this party without blushing.

“Anyway, he once told me he was an Oxford man,” Jordan said to me, pushing the conversation away from me and my emotions. “However, I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think he went.” Something in her tone reminded me of the conversation we had with Lucille and Essie earlier.

I would have accepted without question that Gatsby arrived from Louisiana, or Pennsylvania, or the lower East Side of New York. That was comprehensible. But young men didn’t - as far as I was aware - drift coolly from nowhere and buy a palace on Long Island.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jordan changed the subject again. “He gives large parties, and I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”

There was the boom of a bass drum, and the voice of the orchestra leader called out above the loud hum of the garden.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried. “At the request of Mr Gatsby, we are going to play for you Mr Vladimir Tostoff’s latest work. The piece is known as, ‘Vladimir Tostoff’s Jazz History of the World!’”

Cheers erupted from the garden. But the nature of Mr Tostoff’s composition slipped from my mind and interest as my eyes fell on Gatsby. He stood alone on the marble steps, looking from one group to another with approving eyes. His tanned skin was attractive, and his hair was well kept and tidy. I could see nothing sinister about him, no indication that blood ever dripped from his fingertips. I noticed that he was the only one here not drinking - as the hilarity increased, he grew more correct.

When the ‘Jazz History of the World’ was over, girls were putting their heads on men’s shoulders, or swooning playfully into their arms knowing they would be safely caught. But no one swooned onto Gatsby, or rested their head on his shoulder. Though I wished I could rest my head on his broad shoulder, or swoon backwards playfully, reassured by the knowledge that his strong arms would catch me.

“I beg your pardon.” His butler was suddenly stood beside us. “Miss Baker? I beg your pardon, but Mr Gatsby would like to speak to you alone.”

“Me?” Jordan was surprised.

“Yes, madame.”

She placed her empty glass on a table, raised her eyebrows at me in surprise, and followed the butler towards the house. I watched her walk away, her evening dress catching the light, and I noted that she was attractive too. Maybe each person, regardless of gender, had some attractive quality to them. The contrasting ways men and women carried and presented themselves were exciting to me. Gentle and strong voices, distinct and colourful personalities, skin that could be rough and soft, tall and short people. There was overlap, with men and women being attractive to me for the same reasons, and there were differences. Qualities one gender possesses that the other gender didn’t always bring to the table. All of them appealed to me. But in that moment, my mind was beginning to focus on one man only.

I went inside. I was alone and it was almost two. A girl was now playing the piano, and beside her was another woman, engaged in song. She was drunk - like the majority of us - and she was weeping as she sang. Anytime there was a pause, she would fill it with gasping, broken sobs before continuing to sing again. Someone then made a comment about how she should sing the notes on her face, as her tears had dragged themselves through her makeup and down her face, and as a response she sank into a chair and promptly fell asleep.

“She had a fight with a man who says he’s her husband,” a stranger told me.

I looked around. Most of the remaining guests were in arguments - women fighting their husbands, the people Jordan was with earlier - the alcohol turning their moods from friendly to sour. Then there were people bickering about how they had to go home already, as if two in the morning was far too early to be leaving, even though many respectable people were in their beds by now.

“Whenever he sees I’m having a good time he wants to leave.”

“Never heard anything so selfish in my life.”

“We’re always the first ones to leave.”

“So are we.”

The orchestra had already left by this point, along with many other guests. Some had left earlier, plenty had stumbled away into the night over the past hour, and now some people were being carried away, kicking and drunk.

I was waiting for my hat in the hall when the library door opened and Jordan and Gatsby came out together. He was quickly saying something to her as multiple people approached him to say farewell.

Jordan’s party were calling for her to hurry up, but she hesitated for a moment to say goodbye to me.

“I just heard the most amazing thing,” Jordan told me.

They were in there about an hour. It was safe to assume whatever Gatsby told her was interesting.

“But I swore I wouldn’t tell and here I am, tantalizing you,” she continued. Then she let out a graceful yawn. “Please come and see me. I’m in the phone book, under my aunt’s name. Mrs Sigourney Howard.”

Jordan then hurried off, giving me a wave as she joined her party and promptly left. I watched her go. As I watched, I spotted that some poor fellow had lodged his vehicle into a ditch beside the road within minutes of leaving Gatsby’s drive. I could hear the voices of the driver - who I realised was Owl Eyes - and the crowd surrounding him echoing back to where I stood.

“See! It went in the ditch.”

“How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I know nothing about mechanics.”

“But how did it happen? Did you run it into the wall?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, if you’re a poor driver you oughtn’t to try driving at night, or in this state.”

“But I wasn’t even trying.”

“Do you want to commit suicide?”

“You’re lucky only the wheel came off!”

While the scene unfolding just beyond Gatsby’s drive was entertaining, I decided to turn my attention away from it. I felt embarrassed and awkward, at how late I’d stayed during my first visit, I decided to have one last word with Gatsby, before I made the brief walk back to my house, in order to explain myself. I wanted to tell him I had looked for him earlier and that I was sorry for not finding him sooner.

Gatsby smiled as soon as he saw me.

“I’m sorry for not finding you sooner. I tried to find you, earlier, in the garden, and also a bit in the house. But don’t worry, I didn’t pry too much.” The words had inevitably began to nervously tumble from my mouth.

“Don’t worry about it, old sport. And don’t forget we’re going up in the hydroplane tomorrow morning, at nine o’clock.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” I asked him. Part of me almost expected him to reveal he wanted something from me, or perhaps he would reveal an even more sinister motive. Or maybe he was just being polite. Why did I ask?

He put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I felt a brief spark of electricity shoot through me at the contact.

“I just think you’re wonderful,” Gatsby answered with sincerity.

“Really?”

“Of course, old sport! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not that remarkable,” I admitted.

The butler emerged behind his shoulder, something about Philadelphia wanting him on the phone. Gatsby waved him away with an excuse. He wasn’t interested in whoever was on the phone, he was interested in me.

We began to walk. There was hardly anyone around now except for staff, and the occasional party-goer who struggled to remain vertical.

“Tell me about yourself,” Gatsby requested.

“What would you like to know?” I asked.

“Anything.”

I wasn’t sure where to start. Nothing seemed interesting enough. But I had to start somewhere. After all, Gatsby was interested. Though I knew my life would never be as intriguing as his, even though I knew little of his life in that moment.

“When I was at university, I dreamed of being a writer,” I told him.

“What happened?”

“I gave up,” I admitted.

“Why?” He seemed appalled.

“I suppose I’m not good enough.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure you’re a damn good writer.”

“You haven’t read a word I’ve written.”

“Yet I’m certain of it. Once you’re done writing whatever project you are working on do send it my way, I would be honoured to read it.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.”

Part of me wondered if Gatsby had been watching me with the same gaze I had been watching him with. Had he been looking at me just as fondly as I had been looking at him that night?

We stepped out onto the veranda, went down the steps and walked through the empty and quiet garden together. The silence was peaceful and comfortable as the world around us calmed down and settled after an exciting night, but all I could focus on was the quick thumping of my heart.

Beyond the garden was a dock, and beyond that was dark and calm waters, and further beyond that was a tiny green light at the end of some distant dock. We stood at the end of the garden together, side by side, the light from the mansion and finished party just about reaching us. I suddenly remembered seeing Gatsby alone in the garden weeks ago, presumably lost in thought. I looked out at the green light, and at the other lights from the surrounding houses and the lights of city buildings on the horizon, and for a few moments I was transfixed by these Earth-bound stars.

I began to talk, mostly to myself. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal values. I’ve always suspected myself of being one of the few honest people I know. But can I call myself an honest man if the only times I’m being honest about myself are when I’m drunk?”

“You’re thinking aloud,” Gatsby said quietly. “Is everything alright?”

My eyes went to the other lights. “I want to be honest, but maybe that is too difficult.”

I could sense a pair of eyes watching me carefully, and I sensed that Gatsby was looking towards something that wasn’t a distant light on a dock.

“Pardon?”

I turned my head away from the lights and found myself looking right at him, and he was looking right back at me. And we silently, truly, saw each other in that moment.

A butler then emerged at Gatsby’s side, pulling his attention away from me. I looked back out at the dark bay and I began to wonder if I was just being foolish. Gatsby had just met me, and he was merely making eye contact with me. How could it be anything more than that?

Gatsby turned to me. “It’s getting late. I ought to… retire for the night.”

The excitement in me was fading as I noticed how sluggish I was starting to feel, and it was certainly getting late. Already I was dreading the state I would be in tomorrow.

“Good night,” I replied.

Gatsby smiled at me. “Good night.”

The butler was impatiently waiting.

I began to walk away, towards my house. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” He gave me a quick, formal wave before heading back to his house alongside his butler.

Looking over what I have written so far, it seems I have given the impression that the events of three nights over the course of several weeks during the summer were all that absorbed me. While the dinner party at the Buchanan’s, and the party with Tom and his mistress that had quite the ending, were interesting, they were merely casual events in a crowded summer. But the night that I met Gatsby remained firmly in my mind, and absorbed me in the following days. While I kept trying to push away my unrealistic fantasies, telling myself that he was simply being polite to me as he seemed like the kind of fellow who didn’t want trouble with anyone, part of me kept suspecting there was more to it than that.

After all, I was the only one who got properly invited to his parties.

#the great gatsby #natsby #gatsby

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

Text

handmaid - 28

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

There are several times in life when you don’t exactly know if you’re dreaming or if you’re living in reality. In all honesty, there are some dreams that are either so purely done or so terrifying that you don’t even know when waking up if you’ve either passed out or if its only a product of your mind. In this case, Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if she had dreamed her whole interaction for the past weeks with Sebastian or if it was real life. In all honesty, she kept waiting for her alarm to go off and for her to wake up only to realise this was only a fruit of her very creative imagination.

That plus other things kept rushing through her mind as she packed her suitcase once again to go and spend New Years with Sebastian and Gwen at the Ritz. There was no more cruel case of third wheeling than spending New Years with the couple of whom the husband she’d been rather attracted too. Either else, she just couldn’t help it and while most her mind was screaming at her to go away to Paris and start a new life, the other part telling her to stay in NYC with Sebastian to ensure he’d be alright, to ensure he’d be loved well enough. She knew Gwen to be capable of love, in her eyes everyone was capable of love but she also knew that Gwen wasn’t that interested in being married. Some people just don’t want to be married and Gwen was one of them.

Grabbing her suitcase, she went downstairs where Sebastian was typing away on his phone, a small compact matte black suitcase by his feet. She smiled, watching the little lines by his eyes and how his black scarf perfectly wrapped around his neck made him look like the most attractive man she’d even seen.

- Are you ready? - Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, relishing on whatever contact she could get before they both arrived at the Ritz where Gwen would be for certain.

- Yes, my angel, just sorting some details. - he sighed, putting his phone away to look at her. Y/N always managed to make winter apparel look effortlessly beautiful despite all the layers, and he couldn’t deny that she looked precious in her little white beret. However, what put a smile on her face was the Kelly bag beautifully hanging from her elbow. - Excited to return to your handmaid duties?

- I wouldn’t describe it like that. - Sebastian’s arm snaked around her waist, kissing her coat covered shoulder. As he pressed for the lift, Y/N started rummaging through her bag to ensure she had everything. However, she quickly realised her phone was missing. - I forgot my phone, must’ve left it in my bedroom.

- It’s alright, just stay here and I’ll go get it for you. - Sebastian kissed her forehead before rushing up the stairs to get her phone, leaving Y/N to hold the lift out for the two of them. Entering her room, he noticed how tidy it was despite the very quick nature of the packing and as he stepped more into the chamber, he spotted her phone on her bedside table. As he got closer, he noticed a folded blanket on the bed.

Normally he would’ve just let it be and let Y/N have her privacy, however, his curiosity got a hold of him and instead of grabbing her phone and go meet her downstairs, Sebastian decided to pick the blanket up, noticing the name Ella inscribed into it. Ella. He didn’t know any Ellas and he knew Y/N to be a rather private person with a very small if not non existent inner circle.

- SEB! - he could hear her call out for him. - The lift is here.

- I’m going. - quickly, he folded her blanket and picked her phone, rushing downstairs to meet her inside the lift. His eyes wandered to her wondering if she was hiding something from him. She wouldn’t hide anything, she was much to good to do so.

- Why are you staring at me? - she questioned, pin pointing a difference in his eyes.

- Why shouldn’t I? - he cleared her queries with that boyish-like charm that only she got to see. She wondered how things would be if he showed his more compassionate side in business yet again the mob didn’t work on compassion, it worked on intimidation and getting the upper hand. Compassionate people normally don’t last long or at least that what Dan used to say. Y/N didn’t like to believe in that, she liked to believe that being kind had the sort of magic needed to fix anything but yet again she was mostly thought to be a pathetic little fool and, if Daisy Buchanan was indeed right, then the best thing a girl could be was a fool, a beautiful little fool.

The two were ushered into the car by Elias and once inside, the car took off leaving and bursting the little bubble the two of them had been living in for the past days. Still, his hand lingered over hers, thumb caressing the top of her palm as if he was trying to silently sooth her. As the car came to a halt she could see Gwen and Mr. Forrest waiting outside the Ritz with polite smiles.

The valet opened the door of Y/N’s side allowing her to step out first while Sebastian came right behind, hand leaving hers much to both of their dismay. Before any of them could say a thing, Gwen was already speaking.

- Is that a Kelly? - she pointed at Y/N’s bag. - Where did you get a Kelly? How did you get a Kelly? I don’t have one of those.

- Oh ... I got it from a charity shop. - her eyes briefly moved towards Sebastian who held in a laugh as the heiress inspected the bag dangling from Y/N’s elbow. - I’m excited you wanted me to spend New Years with you and Sebastian.

- Father wanted you to come. - she rolled her eyes before locking gazes with Sebastian. - We have a rehearsal dinner to prepare.

- I thought our rehearsal dinner was on the first of the year.

- Most of our associates are here with us. I thought it would be best to make it a bit sooner. Besides I’m sure Y/N can’t wait to go to Paris.

- Paris? - Sebastian felt his composure slip away slightly before he coughed up, reassuming him outer harsh appearance. - Very well then.

- Come on, you have to help me pick a dress. - Gwen gave Y/N very little time to even try and apologise to Sebastian. She practically dragged the handmaid up to her bedroom, closing the door before starting to throw dress after dress onto the bed. - I need one that says bridal, virgin, mob boss wife.

- I don’t think you can fit the later with the first two. - Y/N mindlessly folded some of the dress that had landed on her lap. - Are you sure you want to do this, Gwen? Get married, spend your life with someone who you’re not in love with?

- Listen, Y/N, more than half regular weddings end up in divorce. All this “love” you talk about is merely due to all the brainwashing those books did to you.

- I don’t think that’s true. I think that everyone has their other half.

- Well then, where is yours? - she snakily replied, putting a dress in front of herself and staring at the mirror. - What do you think about this one?

- I think I need to go lay down for a bit. - Y/N sighed, grabbing her keypad before leaving Gwen to shrug while trying on dresses. Her heart was heavy as she thought about Sebastian’s reaction once Mr. Forrest let it slip that she was going to Paris.

As she looked at the main map by the lift, wondering and looking for where her room was, she noticed Sebastian followed by some associates walking down the hall. Normally, she would wait for a rather more private occasion to address the touchy subjects, however this particular subject was weighting on her and she owed Sebastian an explanation as to why she hadn’t at least mentioned that she had gotten a house in Paris.

- Sebastian! - she managed to call out through her breathless state as she ran after him and the men surrounding him. They stopped, a few associates turning around to stare at her, inspecting her from head to toe.

- Aren’t you the Forrest’s handmaid? - one of them practically stopped her from coming any closer by raising a hand. - Were you not taught any manners?

- I’m terribly sorry but I really need to speak with Mr. Stan. - she smiled apologetically.

- So does everyone, now if you don’t mind. - her eyes gazed slightly with Sebastian before she was left in the middle of the hall as the men entered the room leaving her right outside of where everything seemed to happen.

- It’s okay, birdie ... - Y/N’s skin shivered at the very recognisable voice at the moment. She daren’t turn, hoping that if she remained perfectly still he would just disappear but Mr. Williams behaved more like her new living shadow much to her dismay. - Most mistresses don’t even get half the attention you do, I wouldn’t be so upset.

- I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, you seem to forget yourself. - she remained still, frozen almost like a statue. - I would think you’d be inside with the rest of the associates.

- I still can’t figure you out. I’m not sure if you’re smart and are climbing your way into the society by sleeping with a mob boss or if you’re innocence enough to actually care about him.

- What I do with my life is none of your business, Mr. Williams. If you excuse me, I must find my bedroom.

- Don’t kid yourself, you’re nothing but a distraction.

She closed her eyes tight as she left the hall, almost as if telling herself not to cry, telling herself that maybe he couldn’t speak to her and that he would come and find her when he could. Her bedroom was located away from Gwen’s, instead being thrown in the same floor as Dan and other associates. Tired, she sat against the white sheets of her bed, eyes glued to her hands as she tried to convince herself that she was just being emotional, it wouldn’t be the first time she was gonna be emotional.

Much too enthralled in her own thoughts, the handmaid decided to lay down against the soft Egyptian cotton sheets and soon sleep came to her, lulling her to sleep. However, the sleep didn’t last too long as in what felt like only a few seconds of sleep yet in reality had been hours judging by the darkness of the room, there was a light knock on the door. Slowly, Y/N opened her eyes, gazing at her wardrobe, wondering if she should even reply to the knock and instead sleep more. Despite how pleasurable that sounded, Y/N decided to walk off her bed and to her door, opening it to see Elias ready to knock again.

- You must be on the dinning hall in exactly 30 minutes, Miss. I thought it’d be nice to warn you.

- Thank you, Elias. - she smiled sleepily before returning to the inside of her room, rubbing her face as she looked at what she had that would be the right type of clothing to wear. In all honesty, Y/N didn’t feel like getting dressed up and go downstairs, however she knew she had to and with that she just picked one of her dresses along with a pair of shoes before quickly bringing herself back to the dinning hall.

It was a big hall which normally used to work as a restaurant yet, possibly due to the nature of the event, had been completely emptied and reserved by the Forrest family. There were candles everywhere which gave the room a dream-like yellow hue and for every candle existing there seemed to be a waiter holding golden trays with champagne flutes and other small entreés. She stepped in along with various other associates and their families, getting lost in the sea of people and soon blending with every single other smartly dressed people whom had paired up for various discussions. Y/N, however, remained in the same spot she had been for an hour, holding a champagne flute in one hand as she scanned every single aspect of the room. She was almost entirely sure Sebastian and Gwen had already entered the room judging by a much crowded area of the room, yet, Y/N still decided to remain

- Not interested in congratulating the couple? - she turned her head to see a slightly taller than her man holding a champagne flute in his hand. He couldn’t be much older than her and like every single man in this room, was dressed in an expensive designer suit, his being a dark burgundy hue. Yet, unlike the other men around he had a much more boyish appearance to him with his short shaggy ginger hair and wide chocolate eyes. - I’m Jude Dubois, pleasure to make your acquittance.

- The pleasure is all mine. I’m ...

- Might I guess? - he politely interrupted her. - You’re surely from the Deschamps family. Those eyes are like their ID card, can spot one from across the room.

- I’m afraid you’re wrong. I’m Genevieve Forrest’s handmaid, my name is Y/N.

- I could swear you were one of the Deschamps. Either way it is my absolute pleasure to meet you, I’ve never met a handmaid before.

- It’s not the best type of person to meet.

- I must say I only introduced myself because you caught my eye, Miss. You are a very lovely woman. - Y/N merely thanked him for his statements, eyes wandering to the crowded place of the room, noticing Sebastian’s cerulean eyes glued to where she was standing before returning to look at his soon to be wife.

- Will you excuse me, Mr. Dubois? - she wanted to get out of there, mostly due to her discomfort of the whole event but also with a sprinkling of pain of seeing Sebastian along with Gwen as if they were the closest of couples.

Moving through the seas and seas of people too interested in getting a piece of the new couple, she found an open window with an empty balcony. Getting away from all the song and gossip, she leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching the full moon stood in the cold NY skies.

- We need to talk. - Y/N didn’t bother turn her whole body around, merely rotating her head slightly to see Sebastian standing just a bit behind her. - When were you going to tell me about Paris?

- I don’t know. - she actually didn’t know. She had mostly compartmentalised it in her brain, forgetting about it in the midst of all that seemed to be running through her mind. - I got the apartment from Mr. Forrest for Christmas, I never said I was gonna move immediately. I really meant to tell you.

- Well, are you moving to Paris? - his hands subtly grasped her waist, moving her so she was fully facing him. His brows were ever so slightly lowered, a little bit closer to his eyes than usual which had tiny little crow’s feet on its sides. He was worried.

- I don’t know ... maybe? You’re gonna be with Gwen and I, I can’t stay with her forever. You said it so yourself that she might even move to LA.

- Just because she might doesn’t mean you should.

- And what are we gonna do? Are we gonna continue to do this behind Gwen’s back while you build a family with her?

- I’ll figure something out, angel. You have to trust me that I will, I promise I will. Please don’t leave.

- And what are you gonna figure out? You can’t cancel the wedding, it’s written down in contract. I don’t want to be the reason why there isn’t a reason for your relationship not to work.

- There is no relationship between me or Gwen. Angel, c’mon, we’ll figure something else, I promise you. - his hands cupped her face. - Please.

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia boss!sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan #mob boss!sebastian stan #sebastian stan angst

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