#i wish i could write as much as some other people do that have like entire side stories hahaha

[lukolabrainrot]

End of Year PSA and Thank You

As 2024 comes to a close, and I know it's NYE in some parts of the world already, I wanted to talk about a few things:

Privacy PSA

i just want to say that yesterday is everything I hate about this fandom. It was disgusting and unacceptable behavior. Period. No argument. It is not alright to go on private spaces and share information to the whole world WITHOUT PEOPLE'S CONSENT. And what did you prove?? NOTHING!! Except that you're a shitty person who likes to invade people's privacy... Karma comes back to bite people, remember that.

No wonder L hardly shares ANYTHING anymore. I'm honestly shocked L OR N even have public SM accounts anymore after the BS of this year tbh. WE COLLECTIVELY NEED TO DO BETTER AND GIVE THESE PEOPLE SPACE AND PRIVACY. Focus on what they publicly share, and eventually we will publicly have answers.... Do not go on a witch hunt to try and "prove" your point, THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN PROVE!

The events of yesterday is another big reason I haven't been posting as much. This fandom has just turned SOOOO toxic, and honestly, I could write a whole psychology dissertation on why that is... but y'know what, it has almost NOTHING to do with L or N. But people are dumping ALL this stuff on them, and still claiming to be their "fans". L/N is what brought all of us together. And with the state of the world, I think there is something truly positive about the energy L/N put out there when they are with each other that really resonates with a lot of people and makes them happy and more hopeful. But L/N are their own people, and we'll get confirmation at some point about the big things in their lives. We can't force it, even if we're feeling frustrated at times.

So as the year comes to a close, let's think about the following... If you call yourselves fans of L and N, think about the energy you want to put out in the fandom, and think about how you would want to be treated if you were in L or N's position (or their family members' positions). And if you're just around to create chaos or shit on people, it's time to do some internal processing of your past and go to therapy and heal.

Now, on to the more positive part of this post...

2. Thank You to All My Followers

I want to say I am truly grateful to all my followers on here! I have over 1,300 followers atp, and I barely post anything anymore 😅 I was going through my own stuff earlier this year when I stumbled upon the Lukola magic in May, and then I was just hooked. I decided to start the blog because I had a LOT of things I wanted to talk about regarding these two. And although there is a lot about this fandom I really don't care for, I have met some amazing people on here through our mutual interest in L/N, have had some amazing conversations, and this whole experience has had a significant impact on me. I will always remember this year as the year of Lukola lol

As we move into 2025, I likely will not be posting as much until we get more substantial information related to L/N. I'll still post when I'm able though, and my Asks are always open ❤️️

Wishing everyone a happy New Year!! 🥂

[finelinevogue]

useless

summary - azriel helps you put your shirt on after you’ve broken your arm

word count - +1k

🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

You huffed in annoyance at Azriel stating the obvious, not because he was stating the obvious but because of what he was talking about.

“It’s not my fault I broke my arm.” You pouted.

You groaned and threw your shirt to the ground, giving up completely with trying to put it on.

Azriel was clearly taunting you as he slipped a shirt over his head, his wings popping out the back.

You gave him the dead-eye look as he crossed his tanned arms across his chest, raising one of his eyebrows as he watched you.

Damn him and his beauty.

“What’s going on here?” Cassian opened your bedroom door to peak in.

“Y/N’s being a brat:” Azriel said quickly, not looking away from you.

“Riight… I’m going to leave whatever weird foreplay thing is going on here…” Cassian said awkwardly, leaving the room slowly and shutting the door behind him.

Azriel didn’t crack a smile, but you unfortunately did.

You quickly wiped the smirk off your face though, knowing Azriel would take advantage of it somehow.

“You wish this was foreplay, but the only action you’re getting tonight is with your own hand.” You muttered to Azriel.

You wandered past him with your shirt and onto the balcony just off to the side of your room, needing some air before you tried again.

If it weren’t for those rebels in the city you wouldn’t have fallen, which means your arm would still be fine. As it happens, though, the rebels were more important to seek out and get rid of than you and your arm. If a broken arm was the result of stopping bad people do bad things, then so be it.

Didn’t stop it from being annoying to deal with.

Simple chores were now a pain to do.

Things like making a cup of tea, or making Azriel dinner, cleaning or writing up reports for Rhysand were near impossible now. It left you very dependent on others - on your mate, Azriel.

“Will you stop being so stubborn.” Azriel said from where he stood, leaning against the door frame to the balcony.

“Stop, Azriel.”

He sighed knowing you were getting frustrated - something he knew because you never used his full name with him.

“I didn’t realise me trying to help you make me a jerk.” He said bravely.

Sometimes they key with you was to keep pushing.

You scrunched up your shirt and threw it onto the floor.

You walked to the stone balcony, holding your broken arm in your other and cupping them protectively across your chest.

The sun had set perfectly and there were a mesmerising number of twinkling stars watching over you in that moment. The sky was as dark as Azriel’s shadows—

Azriel.

You were the jerk, not him. You sighed heavily, dipping your chin and tugging softly on the golden bond to see if you could fix this situation you’d made a mess of.

The comfort quite literally encased you as Azriel’s arms came to prop up against the balcony on each side of your body, propping his chin on the shoulder of your good arm.

His chest moulded against your back and your body instantly deflated, feeling so comforted by Azriel’s presence.

“I’m right here.” Azriel said, pulling the bond gently in gesture.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He said, kissing your neck carefully in hopes that it would continue to calm you.

“I’ve been so horrible.”

“I don’t think so.” You could feel Azriel shaking his head slightly against your shoulder. “Look at me, come here.”

Azriel stood back, twisting you around to face him with your back against the balcony.

Your arm was still held in your other and Azriel cupped your cheeks delicately - he knew how much you loved the feeling of his skin against yours. He could feel your love pour down the bond as his scarred fingers brushed over your cheeks.

“I feel useless.” You admitted, looking into his soft hazel eyes.

“Okay.” He prompted you to continue.

“Since I broke my arm I can’t do anything and I feel like I’m being a waste of space - especially if I’m taking you away from important things just to help me dress myself.”

“Are you done?”

“No. If I had just…”

Azriel’s thumb shifts from your cheek to press against your lips, stopping you from speaking.

“That was rhetorical.” He removed his thumb as he spoke, “You are not useless. You’re the damn most important thing in my life and I’ll not have you thinking that you’re anything less than that. Y/N, love, you helped stopped a group of bad people from bringing terror to our city. I’d say that’s nothing short of heroic. So enough with the uselessness thoughts. I enjoy waiting on you, making you breakfast in bed, helping you with paperwork. Every moment we’re together is enough for me, whether you’ve got a broken arm or not.”

You smiled properly for the first time in a while.

Whilst your mate tells you you’re perfect every chance he gets, it doesn’t hurt to hear him say it like that.

“What?” Azriel asked, watching the glint in your eyes sparkle as bright as those stars on the backdrop above you.

“Help me put on my top?”

“Or you could just help me take mine off…” He said suggestively.

You gave him a smirk and pushed him back into the room, watching him take off his own shirt and throw it on the floor. You didn’t care for where it landed. All you cared about was your beautiful mate in front of you and showing him how helpful you can actually be.

[en-bitch]

Final Tummy Tuesday of the year, I've pulled a gif out of the vault specially for you (please mind the colour choice of the outfit, I apparently just picked a random array of colours 😅) also since some of you might not have seen it on the Halloween one, there's another gif for ya ☺️🤭

Anyway, thought I'd also do a bit of a year in review

Top post of the year:

A meme I made on Dec 26th, it really kinda just skyrocketed huh 😅

Highest noted smut:

Also kinda close to 1k, probably not my favourite smut post I've written honestly but nice to see it's done well

Highest noted picture of me:

A fair bit lower than the other two but did okay, also the first tummy pics I ever posted ☺️

I could probably do my favourite posts of the year but this is already a long ass post, don't want to make it too much longer lest people don't scroll down all the way to like it 😅 (yes I'm a needy slut that runs on validation). Anyway, 2024 was honestly rough for me, but all the amazing people I've talked to because of Tumblr and all the posts and motivation to write it has inspired has been one of the brighter parts of the year. So I'd like to thank you all for that and wish you all a very happy new year, let's make 2025 as good a year as we possibly can.

[nonotnolan]

No Not Nolan's Year in Review

Once again, it's time for the traditional "year in review" post. Since I've also been collecting prior years in these posts: here's 2021, here's 2022, and here's 2023. This year has more than 12 posts, and that's because I posted a few shorter stories to celebrate the release of my eBook.

I'm not planning to abandon this account anytime soon, but I'd be lying if the thought hadn't occurred to me once or twice. Every year I'm not sure how much longer I'll be doing this, but then every year the support and feedback I receive keeps me going. So if you ever wonder if notes and reblogs help-- yes, they do motivate me to keep going. But more than that, I'd encourage you to message the authors directly. I'm not always the best at carrying a conversation, but it really does mean a lot whenever I hear from you all.

17) Side Effects - 71 notes - January 2024 Okay, well... I like this one. If you've already caused a lot of irreversible damage... why stop now?

16) Labor and Materials - 83 notes - December 2023 Sometimes I can just sort of tell the photos aren't what the average people are wanting, but I like the text too much to toss out the idea. Mass commercialization of body swapping isn't a new idea by any means, but I love exploring all of the low stakes uses and scenarios that would appear if that technology existed.

15) Shapeshifter's Night Out - 111 notes - January 2024 Honestly, this one was mostly just an excuse to pull out a few of the weirder photos I'd come across. I think it holds up well enough, though.

14) Fiverr Warlock: Holiday Magic - 183 notes - December 2023 The thing about the Fiverr Warlock series is that a lot of story ideas work better without the added baggage of the lore and narrator. This one holds up pretty well, and the photos do exactly what I need them to do, so I'm quite fond of it.

13) The Ends Justify The Means - 204 notes - February 2024 See, I thought this one was great, especially for the Valentine's Holiday. Sometimes I have no idea what the average reader wants from me, and this is a prime example of that. No regrets, though. I'm never going to apologize for striking more sentimental than erotic.

12) Jock Cock, Part 3 - 219 notes - July 2024 Speaking of which... I can't be too surprised something this sentimental didn't do better. But I still love it, and I don't feel bad about it. (It does, however, make me less inclined to write sequels to other works. My idea about how the story continues vs how people want me to continue the story are seldom in alignment.)

11) Drawing Straws - 235 notes - January 2024 I love trait swapping, and I wish I could get inspired to use it more often. I have to be satisfied with an idea before I'll set it to the page-- it needs to have some amount of characterization and plot outside of "hot guy does a hot thing and it's hot" for me to be happy with it-- so trait swaps don't happen too often for me.

10) Treat Day - 241 notes - January 2024 This is my least favorite of the 5 promo-stories, so naturally it's the one that received the most notes. Revenge swaps are hit or miss for me, but needlessly cruel swaps seldom appeal to me. I like the photos, I like the ending wordplay, but overall it's not one of my favorites.

9) Swap Broker: Social Climbing - 250 notes - October 2024 If there's any story whose low placement on the list hurts to see, it's this one-- I absolutely love this one. Photos, concept, resolution, all of it. Ahh, well. A few people asked me what happened to the original Aiden, which I don't have much interest in writing, but... his father would have given him a one time chunk of hush money, which he would have burned through in a matter of months, at which point he'd probably be forced to start doing hard work for the first time in his life. It's not a happy outcome, which is why it's not a story I'm particularly interested in telling.

8) Jock Cock, Part 2 - 285 notes - June 2024 Like I mentioned for Part 3-- I don't regret writing it, even if I don't quite understand why it wasn't as well received. I'm not sorry for mixing sincere emotions into your casual smut-- it was intentional, and it will happen again. Also I've been doing it for the past 5 years, so presumably you noticed me doing that at least once before? I'm sure it's not a photo issue. Anyway.

7) Spring Break - 313 notes - March 2024 I love it when both parties can get what they want out of a body swap. I've had quite a few stories involving out of touch rich people, now that I think about it-- but then, every idea has already been done before if you simplify it enough.

6) Bodily Betrayal - 319 notes - December 2024 I'm so thrilled to be working with photo-manip artists for future detachable limb stories. You all may not be bothered by my attempts to create suitable pictures, but I definitely am. I mean, look at these pics-- head/body swap? Headless with head in hand? I wouldn't have been able to do that without a lot of practice and training.

5) Trial Period - 351 notes - November 2024 I don't do much with ghosts, and I'm honestly not planning to change that anytime soon. Still, I love the idea of supernatural entities shopping around to choose their next host.

4) This Happens all the Time, It's Detachable - 376 notes - August 2024 This is another one that I absolutely adore, and as a bonus it's a detachable story that requires no photo-manip work whatsoever. Obviously, I had to go with the King Missile reference in the title.

3) Roommate Rehab - 407 notes - April 2024 I still think my photo-manip work is clunky, but it gets the job done, and that's what matters. The interesting thing about writing more detachable works is that I'm really not familiar with any of the tropes. I'm so used to subverting expectations when I write body swap fiction, but it's a lot harder to subvert tropes that I don't know.

2) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 I'm glad this one did well, because it's definitely a lot more vulnerable than what I normally write. It's equal parts sincere and sexy, and I adore it. The thought of what stays with the body and what stays with the mind is one of my favorite concepts to explore with body swapping. On a different tangent, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be to find good photos for a twink model that pass tumblr guidelines.

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 This story came out of nowhere and completely surpassed all of my expectations. I have no idea what it is about this story that appealed to so many people-- probably obvious, given how few notes the other parts pulled. Is it the photos? The idea of using an athlete's body for sex without him knowing? Unfulfilled sex-with-teacher fantasies? I sure as hell don't know. Whatever the reason, I'm flattered.

Above 500 Notes - All Time

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 2) Soulmate Swap - 704 notes - August 2022 3) Gym Merchandise - 654 notes - September 2022 4) Overbearing - 572 notes - May 2022 5) Finals Week - 568 notes - May 2021 6) Group Project - 566 notes - November 2023 6) Revenge, Reversed - 540 notes - August 2020 7) Rookie Mistake - 530 notes - May 2023 8) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 8) Information Overload - 501 notes - August 2021

Well, Jock Cock Part 1 has officially dethroned... uhh, literally everything else. Finals Week, my first piece to break the 500 notes mark, is quickly dropping out of the top 5. And some of these works received random resurgences several months (or years!) later, so that's always fun to see.

Enough time has passed that I have a sort of note rubric to determine success. Anything below 100 notes, I consider flopped. 100-300 is average, and 300-500 is a success. So to have this many stories above 500? It feels pretty good.

Here's hoping next year will see more additions to this list!

Special Mentions

Reunion - 151 notes - February 2024 Once again, @mergeman and I wrote each other stories for Valentine's Day. I do really love the idea of a support group for people affected by body swaps.

I'm always honored whenever I end up tagged in someone's recommended post, and @sanzaibian 's compliment of "someone who writes really sweet love stories ^^" is no exception.

Also, like I said earlier-- I live for compliments and discussion, both given and received. If you've dropped a line or responded to one of my outreach attempts, I appreciate you. If we've talked in the past but it's been a few months since you or I sent the last message-- I'm too ADHD for friendships that follow the constraints of linear time. If we go months between messages, know that I still appreciate you.

Is it too cheesy to end this with a "thanks for viewers like you" sentiment? Maybe, but I'm doing it anyway. I'd be having these ideas with or without an outlet for sharing them, so I really do appreciate the likes and reblogs. Here's to another year!

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey again...

So I've kind of already mentioned it, but figured it was time to make an actual post.

A lot of you already know that I've been a participant in fandom for over a decade now, starting out in the original Hunger Games fandom and then quickly working my way to SuperWhoLock and a couple of others over the years. I took a step back from fandom because of different things going on in my life, and it wasn't really until Summer 2023 that I decided to get involved again. This time around, though, I had stories that I wanted to share and used writing fanfic as a way to navigate and cope with how crazy my day to day had become. Writing became my way to escape the uncertainty that had come with losing my job and keeping me sane while I hunted for a new one.

I could never have imagined how a silly, little U.S. military propaganda movie would change my life in such interesting ways.

I've been writing since I was old enough to tell stories, ideas floating in and out of my head faster than the speed of light, and even though my friends told me all the time how much they loved the ideas and my actual writing, I had convinced myself that I'm not a good writer. I held onto that belief for years until a story concerning a blond aviator as a an outlaw in the old west consumed me to the point where I thought I would go crazy if I didn't start to write it. So I did, and then I got the crazy idea to start posting it - just wanting to see if other people would like it too. To my absolute shock and awe, they did! A lot of people actually did! So I kept writing, and I quickly added new stories too which people seemed to enjoy. I made so many new friends, and people really did seem to enjoy my writing which made me so, so happy.

Stories have always been so special to me, and coming up with new ones and sharing them with others has always been a passion of mine. I love talking about them with other people, talking over theories and characters til I'm blue in the face. What's going to happen? Why? How will this affect the other characters? All things I love discussing, but...fandom doesn't like to do that anymore. All it is anymore is an endless sea of likes, which are...okay, but why are people refusing to talk to me? Are they bored? Are they shy? Was that last chapter too lackluster? Should I have added more action? Romance? Surely not because people are demanding more? More scenarios, more smut, more words, more, more more. Maybe I should step away for a day or two, just to give myself a break? Okay, yeah, that should be fine. Okay, what about a week? I have some stuff going on at this new job that I need to deal with. Okay, now people aren't even sending requests in. Now even fewer people are commenting or sending messages in. Why? Did I do something? Was I away too long? Surely people know that I'm a person behind this screen. Oh, now most of my friends are leaving the site...Now I haven't talked to anyone in weeks.

So...what's the point? Seems like people aren't even reading what I'm putting out these days, so why continue writing for a silent audience?

This is all to say these are some of the thoughts that have been going through my head lately, and I've decided that it's not healthy. Demanding attention from people unwilling to give it is not serving me anymore, and neither are the jealous and hateful people who hide behind the anonymous feature. People who have screamed at me since I started because they've been jealous of the attention I've gotten in the past, trying to get me to quit the entire time. Well, you win. You get your wish, congratulations. I hope you feel happy with the number of people who read your fics because surely they'll come read yours now that I'm not posting anything. Hating on me and my work was never going to make you a better writer or person.

As for me, I'll probably still make posts from time to time if I don't go back to my old blog again. I've decided to dedicate time to writing my actual novel that's been in the works for 12+ years now, and I have a renewed excitement for it now that I know my writing is worth reading. Thanks, strangers on the internet! And who knows, maybe TG3 will prompt me to write fanfic again one day.

For now, my stories will stay posted, but that may change as I decide more on what I'm doing, so please don't be surprised if one day they're actually gone. I've already cleared out my inbox, so...sorry if I didn't manage to get to your request.

I'd like to thank @sorchathered @pinguhub and @attapullman for the late night calls and vent sessions. @goldenseresinretriever and @fanficfandomlove for being constant rocks and sources of inspiration for my fics. And @roosterforme for being a solid head to rely upon and gab with. You guys rock, and I hope you'll stick with me for the journey that lies ahead.

Until next time.

Liz~

[starlostastronaut]

NEW YEAR TRADITIONS WITH SKZ

ot8 × reader - fluff, headcanons

summary - what new year traditions would you do with stray kids

links - masterlist

note: this is a scheduled post i've had prepared for about a week. writing hiatus is still ongoing. also traditions are taken from this website

happy new year my loves! ✨️ i still have few hours until midnight left, but i'm posting this a little early, so i don't flood it with end of the year posts. may your new year be as amazing as possible and i'll see you all in 2025 <33 enjoy reading! <3

BANG CHAN - jumping seven waves

chan took you to spend new years with him in australia

to welcome the new year, you decided to have a picnic on the beach and watch the sunset

which was when chan suggested the tradition

he read online how people in brazil jump over seven waves for good luck and wanted to try it

well, the sea was right there and everyone could use a little extra luck anyway

you held hands as you stood in the water together

LEE MINHO - eating twelve grapes

as soon as minho heard about the spanish tradition, he had to make it a competition

and being just as competitive, you agreed

it was a tradition meant to bring good luck, but it also looked like a fun activity

minho prepared the grapes in pretty bowls for when the midnight comes

you sat opposite each other as midnight approached, both treating as a serious matter

you both managed to finish in time, but you were a few seconds faster (which meant you were absolutely going to bring it up any chance you got in the following year)

SEO CHANGBIN - smashing peppermint pig

changbin heard about the tradition from one of his friends

at first he thought it was a little funny, but it was supposed to bring good health and happiness and you get to eat the candy afterwards, so why not?

you laughed when he showed up with the pig and explained the tradition to you, but seeing how excited he was, you agreed

it turned out to be pretty fun when you eventually broke it and fed each other pieces of the pig

you made a mental reminder to do this again next year, and maybe try out some other traditions

HWANG HYUNJIN - midnight kiss

hyunjin is nothing but a romantic

he always wanted to do the midnight kiss tradition with his partner, so when you decided to spend new years together, he immediately started planning

he decorated his place perfectly and you had a lovely evening

when he asked you about the kiss, you agreed immediately, since you wanted to ask him the same

he sets at least 3 timers to not forget and miss midnight

HAN JISUNG - new year movie marathon

jisung and you are both homebodies, prefering to spend new years together at home, rather than partying out with your friends

but you spending time lazying around in the comfort of your home was pretty much a standard and you wanted to do something special still, since it was new years after all

so jisung proposed a movie marathon, but only movies that would match the vibes

you searched up top new years movies, making your own list of what you and jisung liked the most

and so new years was spent in jisung's bed, cuddling and watching movies all evening (and the following morning)

LEE FELIX - watching fireworks

originally felix wanted to set off your own fireworks, but you quickly shut that idea down

luckily for felix, every year there was a big firework show and your balcony had the perfect view

felix came over in the afternoon, working hard to turn your balcony into the most perfect coziest spot to sit together

when the sky got dark, you two went out on the balcony, felix poured champagne into glasses while you prepared some snacks

cuddling under a blanket, you watched the firework show together

KIM SEUNGMIN - writing new year resolutions

everyone knows seungmin is organized and likes to plan things

and when he suggested making a resolutions list to follow, you thought why not

before midnight you sat down together, writing down your wishes and challenges to tackle in the new year, decorating the papers so they look pretty

right before midnight you pinned your lists to the fridge so you can be reminded of them every day

(and it wouldn't be you two if you and seungmin didn't make fun of certain resolutions you each wrote down)

YANG JEONGIN - light sparklers

jeongin wanted to do something fun for your first new years together

so he went out and bought (probably too much) sparklers for you to light together

as soon as it got properly dark, he was tugging you outside

at first you took some aesthetic pictures, both solo and together

jeongin ended up running around and drawing shapes into the air with the light and after taking a video of him, you joined the fun

© starlostastronaut 2024 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 11 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

masterlist | AO3

notes: :') We've come to the final chapter. Short and sweet. I still want to write an epilogue (yes I've seen the Thunderbolts* trailer) but this is the official ending of the fic! Thank you for riding this ride with me. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, depressive states, wwii) (word count: 1.9K)

eleven: sunrise

The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His best friend, in a sundress, his jacket around her shoulders.

Bucky had dutifully ignored all of Sam’s quips and eyebrow wiggling as much as he could, but he couldn’t ignore this. As a familiar, melodic tune filled the summer air, his feet carried him half against his will to where she was sitting, his hand offering something he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

He hadn’t taken a girl to dance in seventy-some years.

But alas, a song was playing and he could feel the warmth of her body as they began swaying along the dancefloor, danger and elation wrestling for the main spot in his chest but finding no room. She’d taken all of it.

While they were like this, muscle memory kicking in as Bucky led them as a pair across the dance floor, it was like 1945 and beyond had never happened. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier, or the ghost of it. She wasn’t a WASP WWII hero with too much baggage and responsibilities. Just a boy and a girl, how it should’ve been if things were simple and fate wasn’t cruel.

He could’ve found the courage to ask her to dance, again and again, and ruin their friendship with a romance. They’d have a little house by the coast to go for the summer, and she’d laugh at how much sand he’d gotten in his shoes. Jimmy Barnes would’ve given her his last name, and by 2023 they’d both be not much but memories in their grandchildren’s heads.

“Buck.”

Her voice brought him back to a reality where two people who should be memories from the past were still alive and kicking. And what a blessing it was, to have her be more than just a memory or a photograph.

What a curse, to want to kiss her so badly and spoil the one good thing he’d gotten out of all of this bullshit.

He took Sam’s interruption and ran with it, literally, leaving her standing alone on the dancefloor as shame and self-consciousness creeped in. Because he could handle losing everything else, but not this. Not her.

Seventy-something years and Bucky was still a damned coward.

He reflected again on this many hours later, staring at the rising sun as if it was mocking him. A new day so he could do exactly what he’d been doing: eat around the edges, careful not to take too much but never really savoring anything.

He’d almost done it back at her house, her having the grace of smoothing over the awkwardness like the good diplomat she was. It was like he never learned; here we was again, being pulled in her direction like a magnet, his body aching and his insides burning for her in a way he didn’t remember ever feeling.

What used to be a sweet teenaged infatuation evolved into a ground-splintering love, not for the girl she used to be, but for the woman she was now.

It’s what drove Bucky up the stairs, leaving the laughing sunrise behind him, as if a new day wasn’t to come and the chance of his world being shattered wasn’t imminent.

He should be content with the bickering and the gentle, lingering touches; he should be fine with meeting once in a while to catch up on each other’s lives, admiring her from afar as if she was a star he could only wish upon. He wasn’t.

Bucky wasn’t content with much, lately.

Any doubt was vanished when he stepped into the corridor of rooms 302-316 and found her still standing there, wide eyes mirroring his, wet with longing and desperation.

In the spam of seconds, he took her face in his hands and did something he should’ve done seventy-something years ago: he kissed her.

Your fingers found his wrists, seeking leverage from them as a lifetime of fantasizing turned into reality and threatened to make you float away. Your name fell from his lips in a shaky whisper and he almost dared to pull away, but you didn’t let him. You should’ve kissed him that day in English soil, before you both died to the world and the time you belonged to. You kissed him in the present for your younger self, as if you were running out of time.

You weren’t. You knew you weren’t. But rational thinking could not reach you, not there in between his arms. You kissed him for your present self, who loved him so quietly for so long you forgot how loud your heart could be. He took it in stride, tangling his fingers in your hair and making you sigh.

He whispered your name again, pleading, but you shook your head, unsure what you’re denying him of; you tasted the salty tears before you could feel them on his face, or yours, it’s all the same at this point.

“Sugar, please look at me.” He said, still holding your face and planting kisses over your closed eyes. “Please,”

You looked up at him and his silver-rimmed eyes, your own spilling over despite his effort in wiping the emotion off your cheeks. “Bucky—”

You needed to tell him that you could not bear to have him explain himself; that you understood, that you would never hold this moment against him, but he didn’t let you. He ran his thumb over your trembling bottom lip, and you quietened.

“I should’ve done this such a long time ago. I’ve been so afraid to lose you I couldn’t bring myself to tell you how much I love you. I love you like crazy, because that’s what I am,” You’d be ready to disagree but sobs filled your throat, your hands fisted on his shirt the only thing tethering you to earth. “So much has changed but not this— never this. If anything this only grew. I’ve loved you for a lifetime, so please, please, be mine.”

Your hand reached up, tracing the line of his brow, his nose, his lips. He leaned into it, free from any previous inhibition. You’d been so blind in your fear. In your denial. Bucky Barnes now laid open on your palm, crying like the boy he once was and asking you to do the very thing you’ve been doing all of these years.

“There hasn’t been a single minute in this in this life where I haven’t been completely yours, James Barnes. I’ve loved you for a lifetime,” His shoulders sagged in relief, and he smiled brighter than the rising sun. Brighter than two suns, even.

Early morning bled into afternoon. The heat of the New Orleans air made your bare skin feverish and sticky, but neither you nor Bucky could bring yourselves to untangle your tangled limbs or move. His metal arm was the only solace against the heatwave, running up and down your back and making you shiver.

“This feels like a dream,”

 “I don’t think we’d be so sweaty if it was, Sugar.” He tightened his arm around you. “This is real. ’Sides, it’s so much better than any dream my fucked-up head could have concocted.”

You hummed a protest, raising your torso to look at him. “Don’t say that.”

“Mean it,” He cupped your face with his human hand, and you sighed. “I’ve got permanent damage. There is going to be bad days. This is why it took me so long. I just don’t wanna be more trouble than I’m worth,”

“Bucky…”

He insisted.  “I know you’re stubborn enough to stick around, I just—”

“I spent two weeks in bed when you resurfaced as the soldier.” You blurted out, sitting up fully. There was concern in Bucky’s eyes, and he kept you in place as you searched for a piece of clothing to cover up. Your eyes burned with the promise of more crying. “I’ve worked for S.H.I.E.L.D for decades and you were right under my nose,”

Your voice broke, then you finally found the shirt Bucky discarded early on the floor. “I took orders from the people making you a slave. I couldn’t find you because they kept you from me. Peggy, Howard, everyone. If I’d known—”

“None of that was your fault.” He said, urgent hands reaching for you to get back in bed with him. “You were just as much a weapon as I was. I never held that against you and I never will,”

“I felt like a fraud. Steve had to come and help me bathe, eat, brush my hair.” You mumbled, wiping the stray tears with the back of your hand. “I felt like I didn’t deserve the privilege of having you in my life again. And I was terrified that you wouldn’t want to be. I’m so sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, sitting up with you. Leaned close so he could rest his forehead against yours. “And I was a coward for not saying I loved you before you went on that fuckin’ mission in ’42. Acting like a prick because I was too scared to lose you.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t listen.”

If you had, you wouldn’t be here. You’d never take the serum, and both Bucky and Steve, your boys, would be too further in time for you to catch. You’d be nothing but a face in each other’s memories.

“You never listen…”

You both chuckled, a pathetic, half-drowned thing on your end. “Exactly. So quit saying I’m too good for you. We’re exactly the same,”

Bucky shook his head again but gave in, kissing you sweetly then placing a kiss on your shoulder. You doubted he’d truly let that go, and you were ready to argue with him about it for the rest of time. He wrapped his arms around you and you did the same, staying like that for a while. Doing nothing but breathing in one another and allowing the past and the guilt to dissolve away.

“That’s why I’ll still complain about your terrible coffee.” Bucky scoffed at that, tightening his hold on you as if it was a punishment and not the best thing ever. “And make fun of you for being terrible with technology. Help you through the bad days and enjoy every minute of the good,”

“My coffee’s not that bad,” He grumbled, not addressing anything else and knowing you’d read between the lines. You both laughed.

“Just because this is going to be a long, winding road, doesn’t mean I don’t want to walk it with you, James.”

“’Till there’s two suns in the horizon?”

You hummed.  “I don’t think this world is caving in anytime soon. You know it, people’ve tried.”

He grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s live, Bucky Barnes. You and me. Just… live.”

Bucky’s eyes were warm under the dim lights of your motel room. This moment wasn’t the world wasn’t at its end. It probably never would.

This… this was just the beginning.

He smiled. The crooked, perfect show of teeth Bucky brought from the past just for you. “We ain’t getting any younger, Sugar.”

[margowritesthings]

I'll Be Home for Christmas (If Only in My Dreams)

A Christmas gift for @cassidylynnj <3

Being shut away in a safehouse wasn't exactly how you wanted to spend this Christmas, but somehow Steve and Bucky manage to bring some festive cheer to you.

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes word count: 5520 words warnings/tags: starts out a little sad, flirty Bucky, ever so slight suggestive language, brief mentions of passed loved ones/grief, lots and lots of festive fluff tbh authors note: Happy belated Christmas! I wrote this as a fic exchange with my wonderful friend @cassidylynnj. A lot of this was completely new to me, including writing Steve, but I loved creating it! I hope y'all have had a lovely, restful season and I wish you all the absolute best for 2025!

Christmas divider by @saradika-graphics

Endless white nothing. 

It’s been 3 weeks since that day, when Bucky showed up at your work with a packed bag and a deep line between his brows, ushering you out and promising to explain when you got there. Where there is, you’re still not sure. James drove for hours, and once it got dark, it was difficult to decipher any road signs. He dodged every question, though you spotted that wince he couldn’t hide every time you asked how long you were going to be gone. Your heart sank a little, your Christmas shopping list still lying discarded on the kitchen island now. 

The two of you drove deep into the woods, the headlights the only things leading the way around winding paths and douglas firs. Steve was already waiting for you at the cabin, so secluded you’re sure somebody threw a dart at a map to decide where to build the thing. Bucky always was harder to read, but the second you saw Steve’s face, you knew something was horribly wrong. The tension in his jaw, the way neither of them could properly look you in the eye in case they saw just how sad you were and caved. They told you everything, taking it in turns to divulge all the terrible, awful details, but you could hardly concentrate over the ringing in your ears. The short of it was this: Avenger’s loved ones were being targeted and people were getting hurt. Laura Barton had been attacked on her own farm, and somebody had shown up at Morgan’s school. The others were taking precautions and Steve and Bucky weren’t planning on being exceptions. You’d stay here, in hiding, while other family members of Avengers were scattered around the globe until they neutralised the threat. This little cabin in the woods was to be your home… for as long as it took. 

The first week was almost peaceful. Steve and Bucky came and went between watch shifts and meetings, and even though you had to ditch your phone on the way here, it kind of felt like a detox. None of the noise of daily life, a forceful break from social media, not even the mad Christmas rush at work. The log cabin was small, but cozy. Draughty, but the boys made sure the fireplace was always stoked. Completely isolated, but a little bubble that Steve and Bucky visited to cuddle and eat with you and every so often stay over. Sometimes, it’d just be one, but occasionally you’d be lucky enough to get squished up between the two of them while they showed you just how grateful they were that you were safe. There was even a stunning view, picturesque trees dusted with snow, tiny flakes falling from the sky. 

But as bubbles often do, it burst. One week turned to two which turned to three, the possibility of going home for Christmas becoming bleaker. Your boys got busier with the mission, the visits got fewer and farther between, and suddenly you found the days dragging, the worry getting so much more intense and harder to ignore. The snow fell heavier, until the vivid green leaves were swallowed up and the ground was so thick with it you could no longer see the deer tracks.

Which brings you here. With your forehead pressed against the window, your breath fogging up the cold glass. It’s all you can see. Endless white nothing. Your mind is churning, as it often does by this window. Worrying about damn near everything, missing your family, wondering just how long they can keep you cooped up in here. No, that isn’t fair. You’re here for your own safety, you know that. Steve and Bucky are doing everything they can to keep you alive, as are the rest of the team. You’re so grateful, of course you are, but it’s not all that easy. The lonely days can drag, the whistling wind sometimes the only reprieve from an unforgiving silence. At first, you tried to write, reframing this whole ordeal as some sort of retreat, but your muse quickly depleted around the same time your festive spirit and optimism did, making it oh so difficult to tell the difference between the empty page in front of you and the snowstorm outside. 

Thoughts drift to home as you pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them in tightly. Wondering if your loved ones have finished their Christmas shopping, if your cousin has matched her ribbons to her wrapping paper again or if your nephew has gone to meet Santa yet. Thinking about the cookies you were so looking forward to making everyone, the new cutters you bought probably collecting dust in the drawer right now.

You’re debating if your neighbour has opened the packages you ordered when the wind breaks through the doorway, almost killing the quickly dwindling fire as Steve and Bucky both bundle inside. Though they bring a chill in with them, the warmth you feel at the sight of them seems to thaw a little of that wretched numbness growing in you. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you stand to greet them, feeling the blood rush back into your toes now that you’re not scrunched in on yourself.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbles first over the thick collar of his coat, “You doin’ alright?” He sets the logs he’s carrying down by the fireplace, coming back to wrap his arms around you and place a kiss on your forehead. You nod, though Bucky doesn’t look convinced as his eyes scan over your features. 

Steve discards his portion of firewood in the same pile as Bucky’s, your body instinctively turning to his when he comes for his kiss. He blows into his hands for a moment, breath warming his palms just enough to take the edge off when he cups your cheeks to raise your face up to his. Your lips meet in a tender kiss, while Bucky’s hands fall to your hips. Somehow, even though they’re fresh from a snowstorm, they’re two pillars of warmth. Some of the heaviness clinging to you dissipates instantly.

“You’re freezing, angel,” Steve almost scolds, glancing over to the fireplace. “You been sitting here all morning?” 

When he lets go of your cheeks to go and fix the fire, you nod again, needing to clear your stuck throat before you can speak actual words for the first time since they were last here. “There’s not much else to do,” You explain simply, trying not to sound so ungrateful for your safety. “I missed you both, though.” 

“We missed you so much, doll,” Bucky whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the shell as he pulls you into him from behind. “You’ve gotta keep that fire going, though, baby. This storm ain’t a joke.” 

You hold back a scoff. As if you didn’t know, as if that storm isn’t the only thing keeping you company lately. A shrug of your shoulders as you tilt your head to the side to let Bucky pepper kisses on your neck. Steve takes no time at all to revive the fire, expert hands working to warm the room back up. 

Soon, the three of you are bundled on the sofa, blanket draped over all six legs and thirty toes. Bucky has his warmer arm around you, while Steve draws gentle circles and swirls in the thighs you’ve draped over his. Right now, you’re right where you belong, sandwiched between your boys. It’s enough to drive away all those lonely thoughts. Enough to be completely content for now. 

You’re trying so hard not to think about the fact that, even though they’ve just got here, they’ll eventually have to leave again. So lost in trying to enjoy the here and now that you completely miss the worried glances Steve and Bucky are sending over your head, debating who’s going to be the one to ask without having to say a single word. A language built upon nearly a century of connection you often feel honoured to exist in the middle of. 

The circles on your leg still, which pulls your attention to Steve. He shifts in his seat. Clears his throat.

“So how are you, sweetheart? Really, I mean… I know it’s not easy, but-”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine,” you answer too soon, suddenly not able to look either of them in the eye. You don’t want to complain, don’t want to be any more of a bother than you already feel when all of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are working to protect you while you rattle around in here. 

“Talk to us, doll…” Bucky implores, pulling you closer into him, “We’re worried about you. Can’t help if you shut us out”

“Don’t be,” you plead, finally dragging your eyes up to meet his, hating the concern you see written on both their faces, “I’m okay. I just…” feel lonely while you’re out risking your lives to protect me, miss the christmas tree while my life is in danger? Your throat tightens. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Steve says softly, his palm now splayed across your thigh and squeezing gently, “You don’t have to carry this on your own.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Bucky adds, pressing a kiss atop your head. His too kind words make you flinch away. 

“You’re doing enough for me. For all of us. You don’t need to be worrying about me missing a stupid Christmas tree on top of all that.” You’re embarrassed that you’ve even said it aloud, even though you know the issue runs much deeper than that. Bucky and Steve’s eyes both flicker between you and each other, while you wish the ground would just swallow you up whole in punishment for your outburst. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… not so easy, being alone like this all the time. I miss everyone, miss my friends, my family… my little flat with the Christmas lights I put up and that tree we decorated together… I know I must sound insane, thinking about all this trivial, meaningless stuff while people are in so much danger. I just can’t help it when I’m up here all on my own.” 

You watch Steve deflate in real time, his shoulders sinking as he processes your words. He pulls his hand out from under the blanket, grabbing yours to bring it to his lips. The kiss is tender and warming on your skin and it makes your chest ache. Even amongst all this, they always find kindness. 

“You’re not insane, baby. Not even close,” Bucky whispers into your hair, “and we’re so sorry you have to go through this.”

Tears well in your eyes at his apology. “No, no, please don’t apologise. I know you’re doing everything you can and I’m so so grateful and-”

“Hey, hey… it’s alright,” Steve soothes, his voice steady. “We know how grateful you are. But we’re also sorry. What you’re going through right now is tough, sweetheart, and it breaks my heart every time we have to leave. Trust me when I tell you we’re going as fast as we can so me and Buck can get you back home. With us. Where you belong.”

The picture forms so clearly in your mind. In your own bed, squished between two heated bodies, hard muscles and soft skin and long nights and slow kisses and all the time in the world. No stolen moments between missions, checking the clock and watching on alert every time a deer stalked past. You’d like that. Very much so. 

“She’s right though, Steve,” Bucky starts, fingers absentmindedly running through a little section of hair fallen free from your ponytail, “it is depressing as shit in here. I’ve seen barracks more festive than this.”

Steve’s frown forms at Bucky’s choice of language, but it settles into the lines in his forehead as he looks around the palace you’ve tried so hard to call home these last weeks. It’s pretty bare, with each piece of furniture a different soulless shade of grey. A far cry from the festive sanctuary you’d left behind.

Fingers still entwined in yours, Steve straightens his spine and leans forward in his seat. 

He pulls a genuine laugh from you for the first time in days when he says, “It is depressing as shit.”

They stayed for as long as they possibly could, talking through everything with you until that heaviness on your chest was replaced with a quiet hope. You kissed them both and saw them out, waving them off until they were tiny dots in the snow. Missing the plans that formed on their cold walk back to base. 

You feel refreshed after talking so openly with Steve and Bucky, determined to approach the rest of your time here with optimism and kindness to yourself. Keep the fire stoked, get dressed every day, keep your daily gratitudes. Make the best of what you have, especially when your boys are here. Stay strong. If not for yourself, then to make this all worth it.

You’re folding paper you’d found in a cupboard into a makeshift journal when you first hear muffled voices. It startles you, expecting neither Steve nor Buck to be back with you so soon and deducing the origin must be something violent. You stand, survival instinct making you wield a nearby pen as some sort of magic wand as your defense from the intruder. As the voices get louder, panic sets in and numbs your tongue. The door swings open, revealing the very tip of a… tree?

“I really don’t think this is gonna go through the doorway, Buck.”

“It’ll fit. We’ll make it fit.”

“I’ve heard that before.” “Yeah, and haven’t I always made it fit?” 

You can feel the glare Steve is throwing Bucky through the wall of the cabin, no x-ray vision required. You lower the pen to your side as your curiosity takes over, walking you to the doorway. Sure enough, your boys are back, standing on either end of a huge douglas fir, snow still clinging to its leaves that shake off onto the porch.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky stands up front, gripping the top of the tree with his vibranium hand while waving with the other. He grins like a kid at… well, Christmas. “Couldn’t stay away from ya’. Figured we’d bring you a little something to cheer you up.”

“A little something? That thing is huge.” You retort, the smile on your face betraying the accusation in your voice.

“Bigger’s better.” Bucky smirks, raising and lowering his eyebrows suggestively. You’re giggling, so hard you almost miss Steve grumble from the back end of the tree.

“Yeah, yeah, Buck, your dick is huge. We know. Can we get this thing inside before we let all the cold in?” 

Somehow, in Bucky’s infinite wisdom, they do make it fit, and are pulling the very base of the tree through the doorway when you can finally get your hands on them. The cold clinging to both of them bites at your skin but you don’t care as you drag them both closer to you.

“I didn’t think I’d see either of you again today… Especially not with a big ass Christmas tree. What’s going on?”

“Couldn’t stand to see you so sad, sweetheart. There’s not much we can do about being stuck here, but you said you missed Christmas so we figured we’d bring a little Christmas to you.” Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head as you snuggle into them, only now noticing the backpacks they’re both carrying too. 

“There’s not much to work with out here, so we had to go old school,” Bucky explains, pulling away from the hug briefly to shrug his bag off his shoulder and drop it next to the tree.

“It’s traditional,” Steve counters, almost scolding in his tone. “Christmas like when me and Buck were kids.”

“Same thing.” Bucky shrugs, while your gaze falls to the tree taking up nearly half the space of your cabin.

“Did… did you cut this down just now?”

“Ain’t no tree store in the middle of nowhere, doll.” 

You roll your eyes at Bucky’s smart mouth, playfully pinching his bicep before breaking away from them to get a better look at the tree. It really is ridiculously large and you’re 90% sure it won’t even stand without bending at the ceiling, but your heart still aches at the thought of what Bucky and Steve have done for you. The thought of them bickering out there in the snow, wanting to find you the very best one to put a smile back on your face has your cheeks straining. 

“And… What's in the bags? If I even dare ask.” The grin is unstoppable now as you watch Steve and Buck take off their coats and shake the snow from themselves..

“Supplies, of course.” Buck teases, kissing your cheek on his way to the kitchen, “200, right?” 

“200,” Steve confirms to Bucky, picking up both bags before you get the chance of a sneak peek. “Patience, baby.” He winks, playful, boyish grin lighting his face up. 

“200 what?” You follow them both into the kitchen, finding Bucky fiddling with the oven while Steve unpacks both bags out onto the island. So far, you can spot some twine, matches, and a tinfoil parcel that you think might be popcorn.

“Degrees,” Bucky says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You didn’t eat all those oranges, did you?” 

He looks relieved when you slowly shake your head no, your mind whirring to catch up with your surroundings. Popcorn, oranges… old school, Bucky had said.

“We’re making Christmas decorations?” You guess, hope and excitement blending into a smile that makes it all worth it for Steve and Buck.

“Clever girl.” Bucky praises, as Steve starts pulling an assortment of candles and tealights from the second bag. There’s a whole pile of stuff now: pomegranates, candy canes, newspapers, even-

“Is that an iPod Nano??” The astonishment in your voice is clear as you pick the little purple device up, the screen lighting up in your palm. An old school Christmas, indeed.

Steve looks a strange mixture of proud and somewhat confused when he pulls out a portable speaker and adds, ”Bruce set it up for us. Says it’s completely untraceable, but he put all the Christmas songs on there. Every single one.” 

He’s not wrong. You spin your thumb around the pressure pad, watching Earth’s entire festive discography flash before your eyes. Everyone from Mariah Carey to Nat King Cole. Emotion wells in your chest, forms tears that sit on your waterline. This is too much. Everything they’re already doing for you, and now this? Working so hard to keep you happy. 

“You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know you’re doing enough…” You mumble, watching both frowns develop simultaneously. Gods, you don’t want to sound so ungrateful again, but it’s hard sometimes not to feel like such a burden when two supersoldiers wait on you hand and foot.

“And miss Christmas with our favourite girl? I don’t think so.” Bucky weaves around the island to find his way to you and Steve. You feel the cold pinch of vibranium on flesh as he takes your hand to bring it up to his lips. He lowers his voice, “you know we’d go to the ends of the Earth for you, doll. Pulling down a tree or two is nothing.”

And you know he means it. They both do. They’d tear the multiverse apart for you, spend their Christmas swapping watch duties to keep you safe, even find you a freaking iPod Nano in the grand old age of 2024. You look between them, finding such honesty and love in their eyes your heart hurts.

That smile starts to warm you from the inside out again as you clutch the Nano tight to your chest. It might actually be your favourite Christmas present ever. 

“You ready to bring a little Christmas cheer to this place, angel?” Steve asks, hand cupping the back of your head. You nod, unable to actually stop smiling now they’ve convinced you that you’re worth all this and more. 

“So ready.” You dock the iPod, while Steve and Bucky both gently caress your back through your cable jumper. The moment is so tender and perfect and-

“YOU’RE HERE, WHERE YOU SHOULD BE-” Kelly Clarkson screeches, making all three of you jump an inch. Now shaking fingers quickly manage to shut the song off, leaving you with the residue of Bucky’s laughter ringing in the air. You can’t help but giggle too, watching two of the world’s bravest heroes startled by an American Idol.

“Sorry, sorry. Modern Christmas music is not the vibe, noted.” You hold your hands up in a mock surrender before turning back to the speaker dock. “Wait, hang on, I think it’s sorted by year…” you think aloud, scrolling all the way back to the top. To the likes of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald. 

Dulcet tones fill the space between your bodies when you press play, classic strings melting into the honeyed, mellow voice of Bing Crosby telling the three of you to have yourselves a merry little Christmas. The room feels warmer already, absolutely nothing to do with the roaring fire and everything to do with the love woven into this gesture the boys have done for you. You feel so seen, so known, so unbelievably loved it almost hurts. 

“Thank you so much for this. Both of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, doll. Not before we’ve actually managed to get that tree up and standing,” Bucky jokes, eyes now flickering between the fir and the space it should be filling. 

First things first, though, the oranges. 

“You’ve gotta have them in at the lowest heat for about 2 hours,” Steve explains, slicing the fruit on a board while you lay the pieces on a baking tray. You’ve never done anything like this, most of your ornaments back home hand-me-downs from family or bought at Bryant Park. There’s something really special about it, though, being taught how by men who lived in a world before tacky glittery Christmas abominations took over the world.

“And they have to be the same thickness, or else they’ll dry unevenly,” Steve adds. You look to Bucky just in time to catch his playful eye roll.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Bucky taunts, saluting the Captain (of orange slices) with a stupidly serious expression on his face. You hold your giggle best you can, batting Buck lightly on his metal arm. 

“Hey! Leave him alone,” you scold, lacking any sort of conviction when you let him pull your back up against his chest.

As Steve finishes up slicing the last orange, you start to lay the slices on the tray. They both watch you fondly, Steve thinking aloud, “I used to do this with my Ma before the war. She taught me all the tricks.”

You can just see it now: a little Steve meticulously watching to make sure each piece of the garland was sliced evenly.

“We did it too,” Bucky adds, “but me and Becks just fought over who got to eat the leftover slices.”

There’s a moment where each heart in the room aches for those who aren’t, who can’t be. You wish you could have met their families, Steve’s mother, Bucky’s little sister, and thanked them for making your boys just the way they are. Steve and Bucky long for the same, think about how much they’d all truly love you. The moment passes slowly, softly, fondly. Sealed with a kiss Bucky presses to your temple from behind and one from Steve on your knuckle.

The smell of citrus still hangs in the air by the time Steve and Bucky are bickering over the tree, orange slices now drying out in the oven. You’ve been set on paper chain duty, watching them both from the couch as you cut bits of paper up into neat strips. It’s pretty much your own personal sitcom, Steve currently the only one holding the tree while Bucky looks on.

“Yeah, no. A little more to the left, actually. No, the other left. My left,” he sneers, earning a huff from Steve. He lifts the thing with ease, but by the eighth adjustment you’re not sure how long before the thing might be thrown across the room. 

“I think it’s perfect right there,” you quickly add, your eyes following the branches upwards to see the tip of the tree bend at a right angle across the ceiling. “...Absolutely perfect.” 

You mean it, too. It’s way too big for this room, shedding pine needles all over the place and has a definite tilt to its posture, but you’ve never seen a more beautiful tree in all your life… You just hope it stays upright till New Year.

Steve takes full credit for the tree, ‘since I did all the heavy lifting’, while Bucky tries to claim the title of project manager. One look at you, wrapped in masses of colourful, masterful paper chains, and they both know who’s really the boss here. Which is why they both follow your carefully thought out delegations in the kitchen. 

“Why does Steve get the fun job?” Bucky whines, frowning at the pomegranate you’ve handed him as if it has personally offended him.

“Because I don’t trust you with the popcorn,” you answer, narrowing your eyes. “Or an open flame,” Steve adds, earning a swat from Bucky.

“It’s a precise science,” Steve explains to you, as if he’s creating a new supersoldier serum in a lab rather than cooking popcorn. One hand holds the handle of the pot, the other keeps the lid closed as he slowly shakes the kernels around the flame.

You don’t need to be looking at Bucky to know he just rolled his eyes. You’ve seen him throw a bag into the microwave and forget about it on more than one occasion, leaving your apartment to smell like burn for days to come. Really, you didn’t mind. Every time you came home, it made you think of him. 

“Sure it is, Captain Kernel.” Buck mumbles, hitting the back of the pomegranate so hard he dents the rind and sends seeds shooting across the room. You pull one from your hair as you turn to him, soft laugh ringing through the room.

“I thought I was Captain Oranges? You can’t keep reusing the same jokes, pretty boy.”

“Sure I can. It’s Christmas,” Bucky argues with a ridiculous pout, reaching to pull another seed from your hair and popping it in his mouth before pulling you closer, a sticky mess of pomegranate juice waiting for you when you get there.

“Bucky!” You shriek, squirming in his arms as he laughs, utterly unrepentant. 

“You all good over there, baby? Need me to stage a rescue?” Steve hasn’t stopped shaking the pan, never disrupting the rhythm, though he has leaned in closer to listen out for any pops over the squealing.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Bucky answers before you can, still pressing sticky, pomegranate kisses to whatever skin he can reach. “Just a little sticky.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes,” you grumble, wiping some of the juice from your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re damn right I’m lucky,” he quips, with a cocky grin, loosening his grip just enough to let you squirm free, though not before stealing one last kiss. 

When the corn is popped and the seeds are neatly in a bowl (your own doing), it’s time for the thread. This step does little more to capture Bucky’s attention than the fruit bashing did. He quickly gets distracted with trying to eat as much as he can and inappropriately touching you and Steve, both of which he manages quite a lot of. It’s a delicate task that takes enough time to bring the iPod through to the 50s and into the songs the boys aren’t so familiar with. Still classics, like Eartha Kitt and Chuck Berry, but past Steve and Bucky’s time. Vintage to you, but a strange shard of the unknown future they missed to them. 

This decade of music brings a little more energy into the cabin, and by this time, the entire place smells like sweet citrus and pine. A truly festive attack on the senses. The orange slices have dried enough to thread, which you and Steve team up to tackle while Bucky lights the candles. Apparently, Steve would prefer Bucky be in charge of open flames rather than sharp needles. You’re so content in this bubble, so lost in each activity that you’ve hardly noticed the sun setting outside. The candlelight feels intimate and cozy as the three of you finally decorate the place. Hanging paper chains from the walls, wrapping your freshly made garlands around the tree. 

“Aren’t they so perfectly seeded?” Bucky teases as he lifts you up onto his shoulders, allowing you to reach the tallest part of the tree to hang some of the oranges up there.

“Masterfully done, darling,” you respond, tongue pressed between your teeth as you reach for the farthest branch you can, “don’t think we could do Christmas without you.”

Steve helps you down, your frame landing right up against his as his hands fall to your hips. You feel every hard muscle against your supple body, every ridge and mound and-

“Are those candy canes in your pocket, Captain Rogers, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Both. Can’t it be both?” He teases, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’d honestly be kind of disappointed if it wasn’t.” 

Bucky joins you at your back. “Alright, lovebirds. Break it up. I was told I had to behave at least until we finished the tree, Rodgers. No cheating.”

You’re reluctantly separated to focus on hanging candy canes by a suddenly all too dedicated to the cause Sargeant, giggling and teasing as he slips several into his own pocket for later. 

The very last ornament fits right in the middle of the tree, which Steve lifts you a couple of inches off the ground to reach. The three of you stand back, admiring your handiwork. Leaning to one side, too big for the room. It’s messy and uneven and may fall down at any moment, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in your entire life. 

“You think we did good, doll?” Bucky asks, the soft candlelight glowing against his skin.

“I think we did perfect.”

And the moment is just that: perfect. Peaceful and cozy and wonderful… until Elton John starts shouting about Christmas. It’s so jarring you snort, heading over to the speaker before you have to attempt to explain the concept of Elton John to men born in the 1910s. “Sorry, on it.” 

You scroll back through the ages, eyes scanning over each song title until you stop near the top. 

I’ll Be Home For Christmas - Bing Crosby.

A smile twitches onto your lips, heat blooming from your chest. That was what started this whole thing, wanting to go home for Christmas. Yet now, looking at your boys in front of the tree they cut down with their own two hands, the one you decorated together as a family, you realise you’ve never felt so at home in your life. 

The mood instantly fixes itself as the song plays. You stand thoughtful for a moment, before you feel that familiar warmth at your back. Steve.

“Dance with me?” He whispers, fingers already running around your waist to spin you into him. He holds you in the traditional position, left hand holding yours, right on your waist as you both sway to the melody. Your eyes meet in a tender moment that feels like it lasts a lifetime, but Bing is only singing his second verse when you hear: 

“Can I cut in?” Bucky’s voice interrupts, playful and hopeful and happy after watching you and Steve.

Somehow, you fit perfectly between them as the three of you dance together. It feels like a moment you could bottle in a snowglobe: the music, the warmth, the candlelight. A Christmas unlike any other, with more heart and love than you’ve ever known, not a single bit of glitter in sight. 

Eventually, the song fades into another, leaving you all standing in this tangled embrace. In front of your perfect, messy tree.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve echoes, his head resting atop yours thanks to the considerable height difference.

“Merry Christmas, boys,” you whisper back, eyes glistening as you unravel just enough to look up at them. “I love you both so very much.”

And it doesn’t matter where you are geographically on the 25th of December. It never did. You were always going to be home for Christmas, as long as Steve and Bucky were by your side.

[hyperions-light]

Hmmmmmm. For the codex prompts - can we see an entry from Rook's journal, please?

For sure! Thanks for asking! [Codex prompts here] 2, 17, 21 have been asked/answered!

Hello journal,

Emmrich says I should write in you to ‘process my feelings’ or something. Am unsure what he’s talking about and do not understand the function of this. You write things so other people will read them, right? But Emmrich said this was supposed to be private? Told him I would try it, but I am skeptical.

Perhaps he’s lying about it being private? Doesn’t seem like him, but maybe it’s like when Viago leaves paperwork around that he ‘doesn’t want me to see’ so that I’ll go handle whatever he doesn’t want to deal with. If I asked Emmrich about it I wonder if he would be offended?

He said that I should “write out the events of your recent experience in order to reflect upon them.” Suspect this will be very dull, since at least eighty percent of what I do is stab people.

What do the others write in their journals? I’ve seen Taash and Lucanis writing in theirs, and there is no way they’re ‘processing feelings’. We all agree the best way to stop being sad is to grab the nearest dangerous object and kill someone with it. (I also think tackling Viago to the floor and getting him to fight me is a good solution, but no one else is willing to do that. They’re missing out.)

Yesterday we went to Minrathous because Neve had a case to work. I think Lucanis and Emmrich went shopping. I don’t know, I was with Harding and Bellara— we were trying to find something for Bel to mess with. Did find some weird magical artifacts in a back alley in Docktown, but she didn’t even look. Brought one of them home to see if she might work on it later, but it’s just sitting in the Fish Room. Hope it doesn’t explode.

She’s really worried about everything with Anaris and her brother. I told her it would be fine, and I was mostly not lying, even— I’m sure we can just punch him until he calms down and then bring him back here? I know he’s killed people, but I mean... Lucanis and I are Crows. They can’t expect us to care that much about that.

I suppose it’s different because Bellara knew those people. And it’s not his job, or anything, he’s just a murderer.

I’ve known a lot of murderers, though (not assassins. murderers), and they’re mostly fine. It seems like Cyrian already feels bad about it, so he’s a lot more pleasant than some of the ones hanging around the Drowned District. We just have to figure out the right incentive to get him to stop, and then he can stay here until they aren’t trying to capture him, anymore. (I saw a cell in the Veil Jumpers’ camp. Not taking chances.)

Hopefully that’s fine with everyone. Will they be upset? I guess he can have the Fish Room if they don’t want him in the rest of the Lighthouse. I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places than the library.

I wonder if they think that I’ve never killed an innocent person. I heard Lucanis tell Davrin that he doesn’t believe he has, a while ago, and all I could think was that he was lucky. I guess if you’re the grandson of the First Talon, you don’t have to get your hands as dirty as the rest of us. (Or he was lying to appease Davrin. Don’t think he cared about Dav’s opinion at the time, though.)

Varric cares about protecting innocent people SO much. I have no idea why he wanted me to be his second. I don’t think he and I even share the same opinions about most things.

I did save him, but it could have been anyone being taken by the Antaam— he didn’t owe me anything more than anyone else. The rest of them just thanked me and ran off; I guess he maybe felt bad, since he was there when Viago kicked me out? But he didn’t have to leave me in charge.

I don’t like it. I wish he would hurry up and stop being injured. I would like to stop making decisions.

Should burn this. Especially if it’s not actually private. But maybe will ask Emmrich about it first?

Goodbye (forever?), journal

[cvnntagious]

new years appreciation !!

as the year comes to an end, there are a few specific people on here that i'd like to thank ! in my little time on here, i've made some amazing friends, and i want to really show them some love <3. i highly encourage others to hop on the new years appreciation train, no pressure whatsoever, using the '☆ sturntumblr '24 closing .ᐟ ‧₊' tag—highlighting a few of the friends you've made this year and/or kept from previous years :)

@mattscoquette — we don't talk often, but when we do, i throughly enjoy our conversations. you were one of the first people outwardly express your liking for my writing, and i'm convinced it has lead to a lot of the successes i've had on here thus far. not only did it mean a lot to me at the time, but i also still hold what you probably thought was such a simple compliment so dear to my heart. you're one of the sweetest and most genuine people i've met... all in all, i just love you

—☆

@eph3merall — you're so fucking creative, always coming up with ideas for aus i couldn't have even thought up in a dream.. i actually strive to have your imagination dude. also, i'm in love with you?? like, you're so actually so funny and easy to talk to. i usually feel soo awkward talking to people on here but i literally never felt that way talking to you... and omg thank you soso much for constantly uplifting me, i take every kind word you've said to me to heart. you're so cute it makes me wanna sob

—☆

@sturnioz — after our first real convo, i felt like i'd known you for much longer than couple minutes. you’re honestly one of my closest tumblr friends, despite not knowing each other for long, and i’m sooo lucky to have met you. you were the first and only person i followed for a while when i was new to tumblr, so when you followed me back a few months later, i genuinely jumped for joy. you're so insanely talented, in every sense of the word, and i genuinely hope you consider pursuing some sort of writing career cs your shit is so.. like, i'm dripping every time (still kicking my feet at you genuinely enjoying my content cs that was so not expected). you're actually hilarious lmfao, even if you don't mean to be. also, why are we literally the same person? we have the same thoughts, sometimes at the same time, and the same/similar takes one literally almost everything we’ve talked about so far. i was genuinely sitting there in disbelief when i was talking to you... anyways, cory forever !

—☆

@submattenthusiast — you're probably the best thing that's happened to me on here, if i'm being honest. i'm soo lucky to have you in my life. you're so sexy and silly, like, ughh i just wanna eat you all the time. i enjoy literally every conversation we have with each other and look forward to talking to you every day. i'm honored to be able to call you my girlfriend, even though you piss me off most of the time... i know you're insecure about your writing but omf, whenever you say you don't like something you've written, it makes me wanna grab your shoulders and shake you until you're dizzy. you're so fucking talented. i love everything you write, and will read anything you put out (maybe not a piss kink fic but um.. ykwim). you're literally always there for me when i need you, and i hope you know i'll always be here for you as well. if i could, i'd talk to you every second of every day, but i can't, and that really eats at me ☹️ still, i wish to spend so much more time with you for as long as i possibly can

this will be my last real post of 2024 before i begin my au special in a few days ! i love all of you guys so very much, especially my mutuals, even if i don’t talk to you often/we’ve never talked at all. see y’all next year :)

no pressure tags : @sturnsrecord @ariestrxsh @55sturn @chrissturnsfav @hoes4matthew @sweetshuga @cupiidk1lls @secretlocket @ifwdominicfike (much love to all these wonderful tagged moots) + anyone who wants to participate

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[pink-lemonadefairy]

i’m not gonna let my lack of hobbies bother me [car screeches] it’s okay that i don’t have concrete dreams or aspirations yet [anvil drops on a piano] so what if i’m mediocre at everything and not naturally talented or good at at least one thing which everyone in the world seems to be [building collapses] it’s totally fine that my passions died out [fire erupts] i’m gonna convince myself i’m not defined by my hobbies or interests because i lost them all and that would mean i’m nobody [explodes and dies]

[milfbrainrot]

have always been a bit more neutral to timebomb but it has rly surprisingly grown on me so much ;-; i think i do see it more from the tragedy angle and maybe more one-sided. i'm not sure jinx has ever been in a place to reciprocate the feelings i'm sure ekko has, but it is nice to think about for years down the line and in terms of what could have been.

[medicinemane]

Honestly a lot of the time, it's not even about people having to agree with me, it's about needing to know that they actually heard and listened to what I had to say even if it didn't persuade them

Just... some basic indication that there's enough respect to give a shit about what I said, and also to make sure that they disagree because they actually disagree and not cause they just didn't bother listening

It's all I really ask

[loderlied]

posting on here is like my sisyphean boulder i'm constantly rolling tbh