#smiling through it all can't believe this is my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seitmai · 7 hours ago

Text

Many thoughts

But the reason you came tonight is staring at you with warm, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that calms the raging nerves in your stomach. “You having a good time?” “I am now that you’re here.” You say playfully, and you hear Nat scoff lightly from beside you.

Nat can't hold it in haha but I get it, it's so obvious haha

It really should be a crime to walk around looking so good that he draws the stare of every woman within a ten meter radius, head held high like he knows it too.

Bringing this out because it seems fitting 🤭

But while everyone else has their eyes on him, whispering about how gorgeous he is, Bucky’s looking at you, making your stomach somersault. And then the stunning smile he flashes just for you has you melting into a puddle.

🥰🥰🥰

Somehow being alone with him now, even though it’s a regular occurrence back in your apartment, fills your stomach with churning anxiety. Perhaps it’s the expectation that Nat believes something will happen between the two of you, even though you’re well aware that’s a physical impossibility.

Nat is just manifesting and she has eyes and says what she is seeing😅🤷🏻‍♀️

“Thanks for coming tonight, I know you don’t know Sam all that well yet and would probably prefer to be snuggled under a blanket at home reading, but I want you to meet my friends. And I want them to meet the people who are important to me too.”

He is so sweet 🥹

“So… when’s the wedding?” Nat comments, sidling up to you, however it doesn’t distract you from watching Bucky walk away, admiring his strapping, muscular back and his ass that looks divine.

Nat is getting ready to be a maid of honor and I would say rather soner than later 🤭

It’s when you turn to look at your best friend, a brazen sparkle in her eye, do you miss the way Bucky longingly looks back at you from the bar.

It's always the missed looks!

“C’mon, don’t be butt hurt that no one’s interested in you. Attractive people deserve other attractive people.” His words, laced with so much spite, feel like a kick to the teeth. Even though he’s a nobody, someone who will disappear into the masses that make up this enormous city, it’s just another reminder that not a single person in this populous metropolis wants you, in particular the one person who owns your heart and sleeps in the next room.

Excuse me?! The audacity of some people is outrageous 😤

“You really think that’s gonna make me more likely to help you out?” You turn to finally look at the man, and as attractive as he is, there is a pretentious air to him, a conceited smirk you’d love to smack off his face. It’s a face of a man that has never been told ‘no’ before in his life. “Fuck off.”

Say it louder for the people in the back 👏🏻

In contrast to how intimidating Bucky looks, his touch is gentle as he herds you behind him protectively.

🥹🥹🥹

“What the fuck did you just say?” You barely recognise the voice as Bucky’s, he practically growls at the man, picking him up by the shirt front and slamming him into the wall behind you. Bucky’s positive he’s never had rage flow through his veins like this before, never genuinely wanted to snap someone’s neck and step over their lifeless body until this very second. Anyone who hurts you deserves an even worse fate than that.

Oh and we alle know he could

The bastard then has the gall to mumble out ‘it was just a joke’ as he raises his hands in defence, as if he wasn’t the piece of shit to provoke this entire confrontation.

Not the lamest "excuse" to ever exist 🙄

“I dare you to say that again and see where it gets you.” Bucky longs to punch his fist through this man’s nose, the only reason currently stopping him is a potential assault charge, but then he hears you sniffling behind him and he wants to throw caution to the wind.

He is ready to murder someone for her, but not for her to be sad or uncomfortable

“Barnes, you need to go after her.” Natasha implores, interrupting the intense staring match between the two men and saving Bucky from spending the night in a jail cell. The mention of you is the only distraction which spares this man’s face from being rearranged.

Thank you Nat! 👏🏻

Bucky practically throws the guy on the ground, searching for you in the sea of patrons staring at the commotion, before chasing after you as if his life depends on it - because it does, you are the reason his heart beats just that little bit quicker every morning at the prospect of seeing you curled up in your armchair, having fallen asleep reading one of your books and him needing to gently wake you from your slumber; you are the reason he stops off at the store on his way home from work and spends half an hour at the grocery store most days, to ensure the pantry is fully stocked with your favourite snacks; you are the reason he has not brought a single woman back to his apartment since moving in, no one on the face of this earth could could make him feel the way you do, turn him on naked in his bed how you do dancing around the kitchen in your pyjamas. He loves you. And his whole world is crashing down around him knowing you’re in any type of pain.

🥹🥰🥹🥰

The completely shattered way you look back at him, with teary eyes that are usually so full of wonder and vivacity, shreds Bucky’s heart into so many pieces he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to put it back together again. He’s going to kill that man for making you feel like a fragment of the beautiful person he has come to adore.

He is so hurt and angry because of her pain 🥺💔

But you know Bucky’s arms, the embrace of the man you love, is also the only cure for the malignant disease which has now infected your mind, so you put up no defence to him pulling you in for a secure, reassuring hug. Bucky’s chest, smelling strongly of cinnamon, is the safest place you’ve ever known. Even though you’re still consumed by what was said back inside the bar, Bucky holds you so tightly that you have no doubt that he will comfort you through the worst of it without him needing to say so.

I get it, I think a hug from bucky like that would heal me too

Bucky’s fingers interlace with yours as he leads you up to your apartment, the feel of his large hand engulfing yours eases the feeling of taking up too much space in the world. Even though you’re much wider than him in size, there are parts of your tall roommate that somehow miraculously still make you feel smaller than him.

🥹🥹🥹

He sits on your couch, the one you’ve sat on many a lonely night before you even knew Bucky, his arms outstretched in a way which asks you to curl up on him in a hug. “No, Bucky I’ll crush you.” His heart cleaves in two with just how defeated your small voice is. It physically hurts him that you think of yourself like that and not as the most beautiful, voluptuous goddess that he knows you are. “You’re not gonna crush me. Now c’mere.” His voice is soft but his hands are unyielding as he practically picks you up and deposits you in his lap, not taking no for an answer.

And if, he would die a happy man

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers with a kiss to your temple. It almost sounds like he actually believes it - but your mind simply cannot accept that as fact, especially not after the humiliation surging through you from the strangers taunt earlier. Bucky so badly wants you to be able to see yourself the way he sees you, how vibrant his life becomes when you so much as walk into a room, how all his anxieties fade to nonexistence when you smile at him. How you are everything he has ever dreamed of.

“Stop. Please stop putting yourself down. You are gorgeous, stunning, and so much more than just my roommate.” He says sincerely, wiping away a stray tear as it trickles over the apple of your cheek. “You are my Sunrise, the stunning star at the centre of my universe that lights up my entire life.”

And he 100% means it with his whole chest

“My whole fucking world comes to a standstill when you enter a room and like a magnet I can’t help but be drawn to you. You make my heart beat out of my chest just by smiling at me. There is not a day where I don’t wish to be back home here with you, where it’s just the two of us and the world outside holds no consequence because you’re all I’ve ever needed, all I’ve ever wanted. Can you really not see how powerful the hold you have over me is?”

🥰🥰🥰

If this was written in one of the thousands of romance novels you’ve read, you wouldn’t hesitate to believe how much love the protagonists have for one another, but because it’s happening to you, that you are the heroine of this story, your mind is conditioned to reject the premise altogether.

Noo!! This is real and he is the trope come to life

At the mention of the word ‘love’ Bucky pulls your face close with a hand on either side of your face, and kisses you so forcefully the rest of your sentence is muffled and completely forgotten about. You haven’t kissed someone in such a long time, and your stomach prickles with nerves as you frantically try remembering the movements you’re meant to make with your lips, where your tongue should be, that you should close your eyes. But as long as it has been, you’re sure the sparks you feel as his warm lips caress yours is because it is James Barnes kissing you, and not just anyone.

Ahh finally 🥰

He smells and tastes divine, like sweet honey and sharp cinnamon, his lips soft as pillows that move hungrily against yours, like he can’t get enough of you either, and when he moans into your mouth you swear you see the gates of heaven.

I would happily die in that moment too 🤭

Maybe you can’t understand why Bucky feels this way about you when there are far more attractive people in the world. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Perhaps your love for him is part of what makes you the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes, the way his love for you is why you find him the most alluring man you have ever met. And that will forever be enough for you.

The awareness that it’s him knocks all the breath from your lungs and you need to come up for air much sooner than you would have liked, but Bucky gazes up at you with that familiar warmth that you never would have believed was something more than just friendship, but now seems like it was the clue all along that the two of you were never just roommates.

It was always there 🥹

🥰🥰🥰

Right Here, Waiting (2)

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

< < PART 1

Summary: While out with Bucky’s friends for Sam’s birthday, someone makes a rude comment about your body, leading Bucky to prove just how beautiful he thinks you are.

Prompt: “Hey. Pick on someone your own size.” for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, a man commenting on readers appearance/body in a negative and unprovoked way, VERY insecure reader, slight angst with belief of unrequited love, idiots in love who finally stop being so oblivious!

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: so I was triple dared by @intrepidacious to write more for these two and who am I to break the sacred rules of triple dares? They do deserve their happy ending 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

You don’t want to be here. Not really.

Even though you’ve got Nat by your side and you’re essentially invisible as a group of Bucky’s mates celebrate his best friend’s birthday, there’s something about being in a new part of town, and with a group of people you don’t know that well, which makes you feel on edge.

But the reason you came tonight is staring at you with warm, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that calms the raging nerves in your stomach.

“You having a good time?”

“I am now that you’re here.” You say playfully, and you hear Nat scoff lightly from beside you.

He looks heavenly, as if a statue of a Greek god was animated to life, donning a shirt which perfectly matches the colour of his irises, which shows off his bulging biceps, and just enough length to his perfectly styled hair which makes you want to run your fingers through it.

It really should be a crime to walk around looking so good that he draws the stare of every woman within a ten meter radius, head held high like he knows it too.

Surely there’s no way he can’t see the effect he has on you, how you become a giggling fool in his presence. But that just serves as a reminder that after three months living together and him not making a move, he is very clearly not interested in you like that.

“I shouldn’t have taken so long to come find you then.” You know he’s only joking, but in reality you and Nat have barely had the time to wish Sam a happy birthday and set yourself up at one of the high top tables. Bucky hasn’t exactly wasted any time in coming to talk to you.

“Well it would have been rude of you not to say hello to the birthday boy first.”

“Ahh I see enough of that punk anyway.” He jests, as if he also doesn’t see you every single day at your shared apartment, but you don’t mention that to him.

You notice Nat walking over by to corner of the room in a group with the man of the hour, not even bothering to announce her departure unlike last weekend at your local bar with her attempt to push you and Bucky together.

The implication that you are a prominent person in Bucky’s life gives life to butterflies in your tummy. Even though you’re sure the intention of his words are that you’ve become good friends while living together, it’s ammunition your mind can use to assemble a pipe dream that you serve a much more significant role in your roommate’s life.

“If they’re important to you, then they’re important to me too.” Silly boy doesn’t know you’d do absolutely anything for him, including facing your social anxiety of meeting new people if it means you get to see him happy.

“Well you’re the most important.”

It’s when he says things like this, accompanied with that earnestly affectionate smile, that hope builds brick by brick in your chest - you don’t say that to someone who’s just a friend, right?

But if he somehow did feel that way about you, ignoring all the reasons why someone as attractive and charming as him could do so much better than you, then why had he not made a move?

You come to the same conclusion you always do when Bucky comes out with these overly sweet statements - he’s referring to you as being very good friends. Roommates who would consider each other family.

Regardless, with this small sentence he’s rendered you utterly speechless, your mouth so dry and brings a ferocious heat to your cheeks that you couldn’t contribute to conversation even if you had to.

There’s a silence which passes between you, not awkward like either of you are waiting for the other to come up with some ridiculous small talk, but content, that even in a room packed with people to speak to you’re happy just being in each other's presence, words aren’t needed.

“Oh, how rude of me, you don’t have a drink - you want your usual?” You had never expected him to buy you a drink, but it warms your heart how considerate he is, that he takes the initiative to make it his priority even when it arguably doesn’t affect him.

“Yes please.” You manage to mutter out.

The cheeky wink he shoots you before heading up to the bar only further contributing to you melting into a puddle on the floor. He could do anything and have you in a trance, but when it’s small, doting actions reserved solely for you like this, that have your heart leaping out of your chest.

It’s when you turn to look at your best friend, a brazen sparkle in her eye, do you miss the way Bucky longingly looks back at you from the bar.

That relentless hope you’re continually trying to shake returns, inflating in your chest when she talks in a way that your romance with Bucky is inevitable, when you spend every waking second actively pulling yourself back to reality on earth from dreaming on cloud nine.

“Nat you know he doesn’t like me like that.” You repeat for what feels like the millionth time.

“I beg to differ, you’d been here less than two minutes before he approached you.” The gleam in her eye has become a familiar one, that screams ‘told you so’, as if this was conclusive evidence.

“He knows we don’t know a lot of people here and just wanted to make sure we felt comfortable. That’s what friends do.” At least that’s what you are telling yourself to help suppress any irrational wish your brain could conjure at the reasoning why Bucky sought you out so quickly after your arrival.

“Well he only asked you didn’t he? It was like I was invisible to him.”

“He just knows me better, that's all, we do live together you know.” Is how you justify his behaviour, but you can tell Nat isn’t having a bar of it with the cynical look she shoots at you.

“You keep telling yourself that sweetie. That boy has it bad for you, but you silly kids will work it out eventually.” She says with a certainty that puzzles you, as if there is no question that you and Bucky are destined to end up together. She flashes a quick smile before affectionately patting your hand and making her way up to the bar.

There’s a moment where you’re left alone, pondering Nat’s words and if there is any truth to them - your best friend is honest to a fault, and isn’t the type to blatantly lie to you to spare your feelings. Perhaps there’s something she can see that you can’t, or won’t let yourself notice.

The buoyant hope you always try pushing down floats in your stomach and for once you revel in the small possibility that perhaps you’ve been wrong all along about Bucky. As unlikely as it is, maybe your feelings aren’t completely unrequited.

You feel someone next to you before you hear them speak, a voice that is unfamiliar and which sends a tense vexation shivering down your spine.

“That little redhead friend of yours is gorgeous, think you could introduce me?” It’s not the first time a stranger has approached you interested in Nat. She’s beautiful, slim and wears dresses that flaunt her toned figure, but it nevertheless causes an ache deep in your chest that you're never the person the man approaching you is attracted to.

Just once it would be nice to be the woman they notice, the one lusted after.

“She’s not interested.” You don’t even have to look at the man to know Nat wouldn’t be interested in someone who didn’t have the guts to approach her directly.

You hope that response is enough to send the man on his way, but your experience tells you men with an ego the size of a Mount Everest don’t give up so easily when they have a gorgeous woman in their sights.

“C’mon, don’t be butt hurt that no one’s interested in you. Attractive people deserve other attractive people.”

His words, laced with so much spite, feel like a kick to the teeth. Even though he’s a nobody, someone who will disappear into the masses that make up this enormous city, it’s just another reminder that not a single person in this populous metropolis wants you, in particular the one person who owns your heart and sleeps in the next room.

“Don’t be a bitter bitch about it.”

Without you realising, Bucky had noticed you looking uncomfortable in conversation with this repulsive man, and stalked across the entire length of the room, forgetting about your drinks at the bar, to come to your aid.

“Hey mate, how about you pick on someone your own size huh?” Bucky looks dauntingly large as he steps up to face the man, at least a head taller than him with broad shoulders that make the other guy look like a lanky schoolboy in comparison.

In contrast to how intimidating Bucky looks, his touch is gentle as he herds you behind him protectively.

“Why? Because the whore is so much bigger than everyone else here.”

His mocking tone cuts through you like a sword, hollowing out your insides. You sense all eyes in the room turn to you, and you shrivel into yourself in juxtaposition to how Bucky shines when the centre of attention.

It feels like the air in the room has been suctioned out, your lungs and throat burning from the absence of oxygen, or maybe it’s just your lack of will to take a breath, wanting the world to engulf you and your existence to end right here.

It’s hard enough to live with the understanding of how much bigger you are than every other person in the room when it is etched into your frontal lobe so that you are reminded of it every passing second, but for someone else to actually express that notion aloud, for all the terrible thoughts you believe about yourself to be confirmed by a stranger who only needs to have seen you once in your life to recognise this about you, is enough for you to start decaying from the inside out.

It’s not just you who thinks that, now every single person in the bar is fully aware of how much physical space you’re taking up, how much weight you carry on your distinctly pudgy stomach, around your jawline which is soft unlike Bucky’s sharp mandible, how your thighs rub together when you walk, not having a gap between them as Nat does.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You barely recognise the voice as Bucky’s, he practically growls at the man, picking him up by the shirt front and slamming him into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s positive he’s never had rage flow through his veins like this before, never genuinely wanted to snap someone’s neck and step over their lifeless body until this very second. Anyone who hurts you deserves an even worse fate than that.

The bastard then has the gall to mumble out ‘it was just a joke’ as he raises his hands in defence, as if he wasn’t the piece of shit to provoke this entire confrontation.

He loves you. And his whole world is crashing down around him knowing you’re in any type of pain.

“Sunrise, please.” You're not sure what he’s pleading for exactly, but he doesn’t ask again once you stop scurrying out of the bar. He reaches for you when the fresh air outside hits your face with a crispness that makes your tears sting more than they had inside, tugging on your shoulder for you to turn around and face him.

He’s going to kill that man for making you feel like a fragment of the beautiful person he has come to adore.

Unintelligible words fall from your lips but you don’t have the brain capacity to articulate yourself better when your mind is rerouting all your thoughts to one central nucleus - how disgustingly large you are.

Typically you’d be mortified about Bucky seeing you in such a distressed state, because not only are you huge, you must also look revoltingly unattractive with tears flowing down your cheeks, ruining your makeup, and snot dripping from your nose.

Bucky’s chest, smelling strongly of cinnamon, is the safest place you’ve ever known. Even though you’re still consumed by what was said back inside the bar, Bucky holds you so tightly that you have no doubt that he will comfort you through the worst of it without him needing to say so.

It’s a blur of tears, head throbbing, chest aching and Bucky’s soft yet vigilant hands as you make your way home. He leads you into a cab, buckling your seatbelt for you, him taking the middle seat so you can rest your head on his shoulder, his calloused hand resting on your thigh, soothingly rubbing gentle circles with his thumb over your soft skin.

Not a single word is spoken on your journey, comfortable with the solace his presence brings you, and finally feeling secure being miles away from the environment that led you to feeling as giant as an elephant trapped in a zoo enclosure with mice.

His keys get thrown on the hall table with a clang. The familiar environment brings you peace, even if Bucky holding your hand is a new sensation which has nervousness prickling your stomach.

He sits on your couch, the one you’ve sat on many a lonely night before you even knew Bucky, his arms outstretched in a way which asks you to curl up on him in a hug.

“No, Bucky I’ll crush you.”

His heart cleaves in two with just how defeated your small voice is. It physically hurts him that you think of yourself like that and not as the most beautiful, voluptuous goddess that he knows you are.

“You’re not gonna crush me. Now c’mere.” His voice is soft but his hands are unyielding as he practically picks you up and deposits you in his lap, not taking no for an answer.

His strong arms snake around you, large hands resting on a pocket of fat on your waist that has always plagued your insecurities, but Bucky holds you tenderly, almost lovingly, and the self doubt slips from your mind and all you can focus on is how close you are to him.

“Bucky, you don’t have to lie.”

“Sunrise, I’m not lying.” He retorts almost instantly, not wanting to allow any time for doubt to creep into your mind.

“You’re my roommate, you can’t very well call me an ugly pig, which is exactly what I am.”

Bucky so badly wants you to be able to see yourself the way he sees you, how vibrant his life becomes when you so much as walk into a room, how all his anxieties fade to nonexistence when you smile at him.

How you are everything he has ever dreamed of.

You sleep one very thin wall away, and all he can ever think of as he falls asleep on his own every night is if you are in the next room thinking of him too, wishing that your dreams will be consumed by him as his are by you.

Never in a million years did you imagine these words coming out of Bucky Barnes’ mouth. You stare at him, jaw slack in utter shock, waiting for the moment where he takes it all back or to clarify that you’ve misinterpreted the intention and in fact he really means that you’re good friends, just very good friends.

This must be your hopeful heart overreacting after such an upsetting day, because surely he cannot actually think of you as more than that.

“It hurts me that you can’t see how impossibly beautiful you are, how you’re the most stunning woman everywhere you go, how I can’t take my eyes off you even for a minute whether it’s lazing around here in your pyjamas or all dolled up for a night out. You will always be the most beautiful woman in any room to me.”

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode any second with how much warmth is ballooning in your lungs. This isn’t happening. Surely you bumped your head getting out of the cab and this is all just a dream your mind has concocted to heal from the anguish sustained earlier.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” You shake your head, attempting to pull yourself out of the hallucination your brain is composing.

Bucky's eyes flit down to your lips, slightly chapped and dehydrated from crying your eyes out, but when they return to your gaze again, there’s a palpable desperation which quivers in his pupils.

There should be no doubt, given his confession, how much significance you have in Bucky’s heart, and yet you’re in disbelief, utter shock, unable to truly comprehend why he cares for you in such a way, when there are so many other women who are hotter, skinnier, funnier than you.

“Bucky…” You mumble, your mind is spinning too much to form a coherent thought, let alone articulating just how consequential your feelings for the man whose lap you're sitting in are.

“Even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know how beautiful you are to me.” And that’s when your brain kicks into gear - you cannot stand any insinuation that your feelings for your roommate are simply platonic, and not the all consuming, devoted love that fills your heart with as much sunshine as on a cloudless summer day.

Especially not after his admission.

“Not feel the same? Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since you mov-”

You haven’t kissed someone in such a long time, and your stomach prickles with nerves as you frantically try remembering the movements you’re meant to make with your lips, where your tongue should be, that you should close your eyes. But as long as it has been, you’re sure the sparks you feel as his warm lips caress yours is because it is James Barnes kissing you, and not just anyone.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, the realisation hits you square in the chest that you’re kissing your Bucky, the man who sleeps in the adjacent room, who cooks you breakfast shirtless in your kitchen, who always thinks to bring home your favourite food after a long day at work where he could arguably only want to think about himself.

The man you love. And who reciprocates that ardent feeling.

“You love me, huh?” He says in such a playfully taunting tone that makes you smile.

“Yeah… but I’m your Sunrise aren’t I?”

“That you are. My beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Sexy. Perfect Sunrise.” Bucky places sweet kisses to your lips between each adjective, each one lasting a little longer than the previous. “I love you too.”

Maybe you can’t understand why Bucky feels this way about you when there are far more attractive people in the world. But maybe that doesn’t matter.

Perhaps your love for him is part of what makes you the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes, the way his love for you is why you find him the most alluring man you have ever met. And that will forever be enough for you.

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications a

Add yourself to the taglist here

Right Here, Waiting [Roommate!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @mgchaser @vxllys @littleredwolf @apricot1996 @blackhawkfanatic @avengersfan25 @thescooponsof @goldylions @shoutingcardinal @florie1 @basicallynotbreathing @scarletbich @almostglitterybear @x-press-it @https.murdock @looking1016 @rosemary0414 @bamitzzsam @doro @nerdgirljen @forgetthisbull @laughterafter

498 notes · View notes

lavenderhateswritting · 2 days ago

Note

*cough* *cough* im gonna need a aprt to of the speedster yn x invincible variants, like maybe how life is like withsome of them

Please 🙏

Nicknames for the Marks Mohawk Mark - Markie Sinister Mark - Mark (he does not fuck with nicknames)

Ring, Ring, Ring

The sound of your alarm filled the bedroom with collective groans from everyone. God, you had to stop getting so many morning classes. You attempted to detangle yourself from the mass of limbs wrapped around you to turn your alarm off, but were trapped by the limbs of surprisingly cuddly viltrumites.

"Turn that shit off," Markie groaned into your ear. For all his complaining, he definitely wasn't helping the problem as he kept his arms firmly locked around your waist.

"I'm going to break your phone if the alarm doesn't get turned off." Right, okay, and now Mark was upset to great. He had his legs interlocked firmly with yours and an arm thrown over your chest, keeping you pinned to the bed.

"You guys have to let me go if you want me to turn it off." You thought that was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, which you quickly learned was not the case, as they both let off groans, and the arms encircling squeezed you harder.

"I think I'd prefer he just breaks your phone." They were both so dramatic.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with this idiot, but I am ready and willing to break it,"

"Break my phone and I'm not fucking either of you for the next month. " You felt them release their grips on you for only a brief moment, but that was all you needed. You used your super speed, and in the blink of an eye, you went from being pinned between the two of them to holding your phone on the other side of the room.

Sometimes you forget that you weren't the only person with superspeed in your house now, because they were up just as fast as you, and now you were placed between the wall and Markie's outstretched arms. On your right, Mark was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and an absolutely sinful smirk on his mouth. All three of you were naked from your previous activities the night before.

"You wouldn't be able to survive that long, pretty boy." Markie was leaning forward, and the smile on his face was a cruel one. Shit, you shouldn't have provoked him. He turned his head to look at Mark.

"I think he's getting a little bold since you let him bend you over," Well this was going to quickly become a pissing contest between the two of them.

"If I remeber last night you were screaming like a little bitch for him," Mark got that look in his eyes that he always did when he knew he was trying to hurt someone." What was it you said 'Y/N please harder, I need you' I mean if anyone the bitch I'd say it's you." He was casually leaning on the wall next to you, which really betrayed how much he loved riling Markie up.

"You think you're so funny, huh, because I wasn't the one watching the whole thing like a freak in the corner, you cuck." he was trying to act nonchalant, but his face had broken out into a blush across his cheeks.

You loved both of them quite a lot, but the best aspect of having them both was the ability to let them argue so you could do what you wanted. As they argued about which one of them took your dick better you used your superspeed to finally get your shower in and get ready for your college classes for the day.

Finally getting dressed and leaving the bathroom, though, showed that the argument had continued through the entirety of your morning routine.

"Are you two still arguing?" You couldn't help but let a smile rise to your face. I mean having two gorgeous men debate about which one of them took your dick better was definitely a dream you had in high school at least once.

"And why have neither of you put on clothes yet?" God, you really needed to figure out something for these two to do when you weren't around. They spent so much time just waiting for you to come home and trying to get into your pants. Mostly because you were the only connection they had to this universe.

"The real question is, why do you have clothes on?" Markie had crossed his arms and tried to project a level of disgruntlement that his naked body kind of took away from.

"Because I have school to get to and I can't just spend my days fucking you two and watching trash TV."

"Yeah, well, we'll see you when you get home."

"I know, babes."

#invincible x reader #invincible x you #alternate mark grayson #invincible x male reader #sinister mark #mohawk invincible

147 notes · View notes

kurithedweeb · 2 days ago

Text

Dear Sir Garroth,

You may have noticed, if you ever read this, that I did not try to set this letter on fire. Perhaps I should have. I am, after all, still pissed at you and lacking anything better to do. Still bedridden. It hasn't been all that long since my last letter, in truth.

Dante's been visiting us a lot, whenever he can spare the time. He's trying to catch everyone up on what we missed the last fifteen years. He's the only one who's been here the entire time. He never stopped writing reports, so those have been helping some when I can make out the words. Fifteen years and his writing still looks like chicken scratch. At least one thing's still the same.

He has children now. His oldest daughter is six years old. I haven't met her yet. It's hard to imagine Dante as a father when less than a week ago he was sixteen. He turned sixteen in the middle of a war and now he has a six year old daughter. And guess who the mother is? Miss Nana. I remember his cute little crush on her, I remember the way she could make him smile when the rest of us could barely get him to respond at all. They're a good match, aren't they?

She came to see us with Dante. She brought a basket of pastries like she used to bring to the barracks. She made some old favorites to welcome us home. She thought you were with us. She asked where you were.

I couldn't tell her. I couldn't utter a single word. All I could do was sit there, clutching the edge of my cot, eyes on the floor. She figured it out before anyone could explain. She apologized to our lady, and then she sat beside me and put her hand on mine and said nothing. She didn't need to.

So much has happened. Half the village moved away. Dante and Miss Nana are married with a family. All the little ones are grown up. Our little Levin is Lord of Phoenix Drop and can't walk on his own. Cadenza is Lord of Meteli. My father is dead.

For all I know, so are you. I turned back just before I went into the portal. It was only long enough for a glimpse, but I saw him run a sword through you. In your back and out your chest. Did you see me as I turned back? Was I the last thing you saw? I hope I was, if it was between me and him.

I haven't told our lady yet. I haven't told anyone. They still hope that we might be able to go back for you, or that we might be able to find some way to bring you home. I know what I saw, but there's some part of me that thinks you could have survived. If anyone could do it, you could.

I lit a candle for you. You don't know what that means. It's something we do along the Trail for lost souls. We make candles that don't burn out and when someone goes travelling we light one; Dante kept the ones he found in my bunk years ago. The flame is a part of the person the candle is for. It's supposed to guide them home, only going out when someone dies. Your candle is beside me right now. It's been burning bright since I first lit it. I want that to mean you're still alive, but for the first time in my life I'm wondering whether the candle knows. I hope it does. I want you to come home. I want to be there for you the way you were for me. The way you always have been.

My sister lit a candle for me. For fifteen years it has been burning. She wrote a letter to me when it went out. She spent half the flint she had to relight it, and cried over the page when it finally caught. Some lines are illegible, ink warped by wet spots. I haven't seen Seafarer's in writing in so long that I can't believe there was ever a time I struggled to write in anything else.

We spent countless nights transcribing my reports into something you could actually read. The night before you took the amulet from me, it was just like all those nights. Oddly enough, that night out of all the rest feels so far away. Maybe it's because of what almost happened between us that night that never did, maybe that makes it all feel a bit like a dream. Were you thinking of that night when you saw me last?

I don't know if I will ever be able to stop being angry with you. I still watch your candle burn until I fall asleep. I still miss you terribly.

Sincerely yours,

Your second-in-command, Sir Laurance Zvahl of Phoenix Drop

86 notes · View notes

mochinek0 · 2 days ago

Text

Daminette December: 18- Headline

Damian despised the galas he was forced to attend. This year was no different. He flinched at the sudden contact of someone grabbing his arm. He was about to yell when he saw Marinette.

"Hey, Damian." she smiled.

"Uh, you really shouldn't be doing that." Tim interrupted, moving closer.

Usually Damian wouldn't have minded Drake's interference, but Marinette wasn't someone who clung to others. He knew her from school; she was a lot like him. He had even seen a guy grab her, only for her to flip him and command him not to touch her. In fact, Marinette was at the gala because of him; she had designed his suit. It was her eyes that through him off. They screamed 'help me'. Quickly, the youngest Wayne moved his arm to her waist and guided them away from his family.

"What is wrong?" he whispered as the got further away.

"Past troubles." she whispered back, "I never expected to see him here, but I saw his dad too. I'm assuming your family invited them. I haven't spotted her, but usually she isn't far behind him."

"Who?" he questioned.

"Marinette!" came a sickly sweet voice.

Damian felt her tense under his grip. She wasn't easily scared.

"Adrien. Lila." she spoke, curtly, "I never thought you would be here."

"I could say the same about you." Lila replied, "I'm a model, but you're a nobody. Did you pay this guy to bring you? You really should stay away from her. She-"

"Silence!" Damian commanded, glaring at her.

Lila sniffled, curling into Adrien's back. Although, he wasn't in any better position. He shifted uncomfortably under the glare.

"Marinette, maybe-" Adrien tried to speak.

"I believe I said to be silent!" the young Wayne roared.

Adrien closed his mouth and jumped back, almost knocking Lila to the floor. They could feel eyes turning towards them. Gabriel turned to see Adrien and Lila near the Waynes and it appeared it wasn't going well. He quickly made his way over.

"I suggest you take your girlfriend and find a wall to stare at, until it is time to depart." Damian spoke.

"Lila isn't my girlfriend!" Adrien cried out, not noticing her upset look, "She's just a coworker. We model for my father!"

Lila stepped out from behind Adrien and pointed her finger at the unknown guy with Marinette, "Just wait until my boyfriend, Damian Wayne, hears about this! He'll-"

"Security!" Damian called out for.

The Waynes immediately turned their attention and spotted Damian in the middle of it all.

'This can't be good!'

Security rushed towards them. Lila stepped back in shock.

"Throw this harlot out and make sure she is put on the banned list." Damian declared, "She is never to return to another Wayne gala!."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." the security guard declared, before grabbing her arms.

'Huh?'

"My name is Damian Wayne and my girlfriend is Marinette Dupain-Cheng." He announced, pulling her close towards his side, "I have never met you in my life and from the trash that spewed out of your mouth, I never want to again."

Lila paled, knowing she just caused a problem for Gabriel. He had brought them in hopes that he could make a deal with the Waynes, for them to promote his upcoming line.

@maribat-calendar-events

TAG LIST- DAMINETTE: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

UNSPECIFIED- @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog @blushmimi

#marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #mochinek0 #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #adrienette #adrien agreste #lila rossi #gabriel agreste #overprotective damian #headlines

71 notes · View notes

billiegabbysyd · 3 days ago

Note

The evolution of Billie and reader’s relationship as seen through the vanity fair interviews

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒙 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕.

i hope y’all like it!

𝒄𝒘: 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆

interviewer: "billie, this is your eighth year doing the time capsule interview. today, we're doing something special by having your partner join us. how does it feel?"

billie: "honestly,it's feels weird in a good way. watching these interviews over the years has been like flipping through a diary. having my beautiful wife here makes it even more special because so much of my growth is intertwined with them. we met before i started doing these and i’m glad for her to be a part of something that is very special when it comes to my career."

the interviewer turns to you.

interviewer: “how does it feel to be part of this tradition?"

you: "it's an honor. i've seen billie evolve through these interviews, and being here now feels like a full-circle moment. i’m remember billie being so excited for the first one she did, so getting to be here means a lot.

year one – 2017

billie: "back then, i was just starting out. I had 257,000 followers and was overwhelmed by the attention. we had just met at a local music event a few months before. she complimented my performance, and we started talking. that was the beginning of a relationship i didn't expect."

you: "i remember thinking how genuine she was. i was there getting social media content for the company sponsoring the event when we had crossed paths. despite the buzz around her, she was grounded and kind."

year three – 2019

billie: "touring was intense. i had toured before with don’t smile at me but this was my first world tour. i felt like i was losing touch with reality being away from home so long, but my wife was my anchor. we'd facetime between shows, and her voice reminded me of home. we had been dating for a year at that time."

you: "i remember being so happy for b. it was challenging, but we made it work. our first year together, we saw each other almost every day, so this tour was definitely something that we worried about when it came to our relationship. communication became our lifeline."

year five – 2021

billie: "i was in a better place mentally. in the interview, i said i was hopeful and happy. a big part of that was my baby. she supported me unconditionally. we had just moved in together and had gotten engaged a few weeks before.

you: "we had grown together. our bond was stronger, and we understood each other deeply. moving in together and being committed to one another was a big part of that year."

year seven – 2023

billie: "we didn't release an interview that year, but we recorded one. It was a transformative year. we celebrated five years together, we had gotten married the year before, and our relationship matured."

you: "being married brought new challenges, but also beautiful moments. we learned more about each other every day in a more intimate way because we were building a life together."

year eight – 2024

billie: "this year, I said, 'i can't believe where my life has gone, and where it is now.' having my wife by my side has been the most consistent and comforting part of this journey. especially more than ever because she’s having our first child soon.

you: "it has been a journey and i am grateful to have billie by my side through it all. she has been my rock and i am so excited for this new chapter of being parents."

interviewer: "your story is inspiring. any advice for those navigating relationships amidst personal growth?"

billie: "communicate openly, support each other's dreams, and never lose sight of the love that brought you together."

you: "grow individually and together. celebrate each other's successes and be there during the lows. it's a journey worth taking."

-thank you for the request 🫶🏾

#billie x fem reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie x you #billie eilish #billie x reader #billie x y/n #x black reader #billiegabbysyd #fanfic #lesbian

74 notes · View notes

thatfrailsoul · 10 hours ago

Text

– I think I dreamed you into life

Divinatory Jukebox: “I Knew I Loved You”, by Savage Garden.

tarot pick a pile reading → one, two, three

Those eyes, those smiles, that sweetest smell once they let you closer… A face that you could recognise in an instant, even though it never was caressed by your gaze before. A voice that you can almost hear, as you are walking through this life, one step after another, devouring the distance and the time keeping you apart… All of it, every single detail, feels more like a memory, rather than imagination and desire to find that someone. It seems more like a fate that is taking a little longer, a secret that you somehow know and await to manifest. Something that, each day and instant, is whispering to you sweetly about all those moments your hearts are destined to share. But there is a missing peace in there somewhere. A detail they don't mention, leaving it all to your imagination and dreams. But it is so important… to know when and where your encounter will be, and what to do in the meantime… isn't it?

There is a little spot in your heart, buried under all the emotions, all the memories of people that were once there, and those that stayed… There is a little corner that is still not filled, that nothing and no one really fits. Almost like it's being saved for someone special, without you knowing a thing. A little surprise, a gift, something so precious that the life itself can’t resist the urge to give you clues and signs about them. About that one person that stands out so much among the others, with so many threads of destiny that are pulling you closer. A lover, a friend, a mirror of your own soul, made of the same stardust that birthed you into this world... There is someone, out there, that you still need to meet, and yet every inch of you already knows them. You feel them, you know they are coming, that your paths will soon cross each other.

So slow down. Calm your breath, your heart, your mind. And pay attention, listen closely, to the message that the pile that is calling you has for you right now.

p.s. There is a way to keep the messages of the universe much closer. A little box of treasure with all the guidance, all the advices, secrets we discover… A way to find my readings right in your inbox, where they are safe, all yours, and you can savour each word with your own rhythm, whenever your heart wants it… Through my free newsletter to which you can subscribe right here, obviously only if you want to.♡

p.p.s. Which pile you felt called by? Let me know, or follow me for more readings like this one.♡

– Pile One,

the stork: the two of cups and the three of coins

The voice of your tired and lonely mind is so loud lately… So motivated and persistent to let you know that it will never happen. That there aren't people that are so perfect as you imagine them, not even you compare to the one you envision… The one you feel so real only when you dream, eyes closed, with heavy breathing, as you search for them through your unconsciousness, the only light among all those nightmares, and the only place they seem to live in…

One after another, so many faces, voices, words… and not even one seems to be the one. So you are starting to think that perhaps you should just accept it and stay still, finding enough in those that are around you… But then again you are overwhelmed, like in a fever, with all the details about them that you already love so deeply, that start to feel more and more like memories, and not only what you dream of, not something that is so easy to forget and give up.

There is a constant battle within you. The cold reality and pure need to feel that warmth of a connection that is deeper. The mind that is ready to give up, that feels ashamed and even guilty for nurturing for so long a dream that never became more real… And a heart that knows, somehow, that it is possible, that it is worth to believe in and wait for it, that you can't be the only one to long for such connection, and thus you should be able to find it, to find them, sooner or later.

But even if it is so… There is no need to consume yourself so much for it. To fight so strongly, to exhaustion, for something that will either way find you, even if you will not do every single thing to make sure it happens, or perhaps to force it.

This soul, whoever they are, or whenever they are now in this moment… they exist, you know? They are living, breathing, moving through their days and journeys. They are writing their own story, their chapters, their slow or fast moments. And with each decision, with each step, they are following that thread that pulls their hand tenderly but so reassuringly, showing them the right and safest way. A way to find you.

So please breathe. There is no time running out, chances missed, or obstacles not avoided. There is nothing between you if not just life. The journeys, the stories, that you need to live on your own first. Before sharing another one with them, side by side, exactly like you hope for. There are just things that you need respectively to experience, to create. The things that only you or them can manifest. You can’t do everything on your own, speed up the process, find the right path, and run right away to that person. And it makes you feel hopeless, just because you think that these things are the only ones that could give you reassurance, be those signs that everything is going well, that this dream is still possible… But you don't realize, in this frustration, how many confirmations and signs are here already. In you and in the reality around you. In your growth, in your confidence, in your courage to be honest about whom you want to walk on your journeys with, and the confidence to say it out loud, to not settle for someone that you don't feel right and aligned for the life you want now. You see only connections that won’t work, people that leave, the emptiness around you. And not the space that they are making for someone else, right by your side, giving you the real chance to welcome them in your life once you will find each other.

Give them and yourself some time, some space to live your separate stories. Focus on your journey, on the things that you desire to experience, to do, to make, but put on hold just because there isn't someone to witness it, to enjoy them with you, to appreciate or admire it the same way you do. Don't bottle them down, don't write those endless lists of what you would do once you have someone to share it with. Just do it for yourself, now, when you the most want it.

Follow your mind, not only the heart's calling. Give it something to love and to be nurtured by too, now, so it can calm down and stop being so judgemental of your heart’s desires and whispers about someone that is not here. Fill your life with joy, with appreciation, with true presence. With healing and growth. And those things that you will finally feel and live, not those that you need to, but those that you want to, will be the ones to guide you faster to the one you are hoping to find one day. Because the things that connect you are not the choices about the work, the place where you live, how you dress, talk, or look at others. How many things you want to do with that someone, or how many plans you have prepared for the moment you will be in front of each other. No, a connection like this goes right through your hearts, somewhere deeper, stitching you through all those things that make you both bloom with love and joy, not for someone else, but for the world around you.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

– Pile Two,

the garden: the wheel of fortune and the stars

It is so interesting to have you here… Glimpsing silently into a story that is not really about you, but that you would like so much to live just to don't feel so strange and different for not having it… For not having that love, that someone special to run towards.

You are here, reading these words, looking for the answers to the questions that you don't even ask yourself, just because others made you feel like it is wrong, to find enough in just your self, in not needing someone else’s love to surround you and nourish you to help you heal and grow.

But… You are not wandering lonely and pointlessly around now. You are living. Experiencing this life, these journeys. You are becoming more and more you, with each step. Shedding the past, healing the wounds, creating space for the real you to bloom. And... it is not useless, it is not wasting your time, being too isolated, egocentric or antisocial. Just because you are not looking obsessively for someone to hold your hand, to warm you up, to love you… Just because you are finding it all in your own self, looking first in your own eyes, trying to understand that soul in the reflection of a mirror, instead of seeking someone else's gaze in hopes to find in there any answers.

So many of us heal, discover our true self, through the connections with others. Through their opinions, their actions, their decisions… And how they makes us feel, what they force us to feel, not leaving any room for hiding or second-guessing. And it is right. In the good and in the bad. It is normal and needed to have someone that shows us who we are, how much we are deserving of love, through giving it to us or by denying it... But it is also okay to understand it all on your own. To feel all of this within, growing and healing through a connection that is much deeper, hidden inside, and not somewhere out there, in another soul that you need to meet in order to realize it.

There is no need for judgement nor any forcing, there is no need for you to wait to feel and create precious moments just because so many souls want to do it with someone. You can do it on your own. You can be the love of your life, the closest and dearest soul. You can be the one that you share the deepest bond with. The one that you will never be not mesmerized by. The one that you could never forget, never stop believing in. The one you can't wait to meet, some day, looking in the eyes of who you will become, feeling their love and understanding overwhelming your soul.

You can do it. Even if some dream of a perfect love, or others are longing for a true friend… You can do it differently, you can feel the closest to the person you will become one day, feeling complete already, not waiting nor looking for anyone else. Because this is who you are, this is what your soul truly wants. Who it is truly looking and calling for. And it is more than enough.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

– Pile Three,

the scythe: the page of cups and the six of swords

In a sense… they already saved you. Not by being in your life, right here by your side. Not by holding you, hugging you, protecting you from this world. Not by whispering to you sweet and comforting words… But by just being a possibility. The chance itself that there is someone, somewhere out there, who would understand you right after the first glance, feel you after the first smile… It was enough to save you. To save yourself in the meantime.

It might not be ‘’ideal’’, the healthiest, the most romantic and heroic way to survive… But it is the reality. In which, sometimes and for some reason, we do feel alone and vulnerable, in danger even, among the people that we trust our heart with, after they scratch and crush it... And we do need to hope that there is someone different out there, to give us the strength to go through it, when our own love is not unfortunately enough to make it.

There is nothing strange or shameful in this. In giving yourself hope, someone to believe in, even if you don't know yet the sound of their voice. And in surviving for them, for a chance to meet them and be with them. In looking for them in the eyes of others, sometimes believing that you finally found them, convincing yourself a little too much perhaps, just to be hurt once more, when you didn't expect it anymore… It is fine. It is all okay. You are not delusional, your head is not too much in the clouds, your heart is not too romantic for the harsh reality of how the relationships are becoming now. You are not too naive because of your belief, or too egocentric when you choose it over some poorly made promises of those that never deserved to come so closely.

We all have someone, someone that we connect with so deeply, understand so naturally, so easily as breathing. And that's it. This is the truth. But some people believe it and some don't. Some know it from the beginning, others forget about it or refuse to hope for it. And some… learn and understand it amidst and despite everything. Exactly like you did. Choosing to focus on this thought, on this feeling, rather than the bad endings of the stories that everyone is so fast to believe in, surrendering to it.

They exist. Many of them. All the souls that you will feel finally safe and at peace with. And each your breath, each your step and decision, is already guiding you to them, exactly like it is supposed to be. You just need to remind it yourself, for a moment. Now that the life seems a little too stagnant, a little more cold and lonely, with all those judgemental voices screaming so loudly. Don't look at them, don't listen. Turn around, focus your gaze on your direction, your goals, the things that you believe in. Let them stay behind, becoming more and more indistinguibile, in their assumptions, and inability to have peace when someone still has hope for being loved and appreciated. It's their way of thinking, their experiences, their choices. They don't influence you, or your own journey. Nor the one of the souls that are looking for you, as you dream about them, hoping.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

54 notes · View notes

crescentmoonfallen · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! If you're taking any requests could you do a stanley snyder x reader. Where Stanley is trying to propose to reader?

Feel free to ignore and have an amazing day!

Sorry for this coming so late ^^;

------------------------------------------------------

The Progress for the colony was going absolutely wonderfuly. Or as Xeno would say “elegantly”. Very little to no problems have happened. Unfortunately this meant almost everyone was always working. Including a certain couple cough Stanley and y/n. Moments of peace where once in a blue moon.

However, it seems like these two were finally blessed with one. Let me set the scene for you. It was a late summers night. The fire flies where out, lighting the land like stars on Earth.

You and Stanley where enjoying a nice stroll. Chatting away at whatever came to mind. You being completely unaware of the little box in Stanley pocket. Most would consider it a waist of materials and or recorces in the stone world, but they could simply tell that to his face if they dared.

Golden eyes scanned their surroundings, on look out for the perfect spot or any possible threats to the duo. After a bit they where finally at their destination.

A gorgeous natural clearing, the mountains where far behind them. Creating an absolutely beautiful background. Flowers where in bloom. And once again, the fireflies only made it more magical.

“This place is absolutely lovely” you said, looking around at the stunning scenery before you. Absolutely in awe of it all. “Not as lovely as you doll”. Your blonde hair lover replied, gazing at you with his gorgeous honey eyes. Subtly reaching for the box in his pocket.

“Aw Stan.” “Speaking of which doll, we have been through an awful lot, even before this whole shit show with the green light happened, and through it all you stuck by my side.” Of course I would love.”

“I can't even think of anyone I would rather spend the rest of my life with.” The sniper continues as he gets down on one knee. A tell tail sign of what is about to happen.

You gasp as you look down at your soon to be fiance because of course your saying yes. Not believing what he is about to do.

Ungloved scarred and callused hands take out that small Velvet box and open it. Inside is an absolutely gorgeous gold ring with a dazzling (insert your favorite jewel) right in the middle. “Will you marry me?” Your blonde asked, gazing up at you with my nothing but love in his eyes.

“Oh Stan…YES!” You practically shout as you tear up. Mind finally realizing what is happening. With that your lover smiles, gently placing the ring on your finger and kissing you. Bassking in the moment.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #stanley snyder #dcst x reader #dr stone stanley #stanley snyder x reader #dr.stone #dr xeno

52 notes · View notes

rentenier3148 · 1 day ago

Text

Held Together By Memory

Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You both were torn from 1940s Brooklyn and remade into killers. But when memories begin to bleed through, a second chace is ignited.

Word count: ~4.7k

Warning: Fluff. Some smut. Angst. Slow burn (?). Some Cannon divergence for plot. No use of y/n. Language (sorry Steve)

A.N: First chapter went better than I expected! Thanks guys for the reblogs and engagement, it really warms my heart <3

Chapter 1

✪──────•••──────✪

Brooklyn, New York - 1943

The morning air is thick with a quiet sort of dread—like the sky knows what's coming and holds its breath for you.

Down the station, the streets are packed. Families, sweethearts, mothers with trembling hands and young kids clinging to trouser legs. Boys in uniform line the curb with stiff collars and even stiffer jaws, trying to act like it's just another Tuesday.

But it's not.

Today is the day they leave.

You stand between Steve and Bucky, your arm hooked around Bucky's, your other hand clutched tightly in his free one. His thumb strokes slow circles over your skin like he's trying to memorize the texture. His hair is slicked back neatly—regulation cut now—but a stubborn strand keeps falling over his forehead.

Steve adjusts the strap of is duffel bag, looking out over the crowd with wide, quiet eyes. There's still a part of you that can't quite believe he made it in. That same scrawny boy with a heart too big for his body now stands tall beside Bucky, wearing the same uniform, holding his head high.

You don't say out loud—but you're surprised. Grateful. A little scared. And still... proud.

You glance at Bucky. His face is composed, but his grip on you tightens just a little as the train whistles in the distance.

He leans in, voice low in your ear.

"Still time to pull the runaway bride, y'know." he flashes a weak grin. "We can grab a cab, head for Jersey. I hear the diners there are decent."

You laugh—barely—but it trembles.

"Tempting," you whisper, your eyes already glassy. "But you'd never forgive yourself."

He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, blocking out the crowd, the noise, the weight of the moment pressing in on all sides.

"You've made this the best damn week of my life," he murmurs. "Every second with you... it's the only part of me I don't wanna leave behind."

Steve, standing just a few feet away, tries to give you both space—but you catch him glancing over now and then with a soft, understanding look. He knows.

He's always known.

You gently pull away from Bucky just enough to glance over at Steve.

He's trying to keep it together—shoulders squared, chin lifted—but there's a flicker in his eyes that makes your heart ache. He's always been the quiet backbone, the one people overlooked until it really mattered.

You step toward him and reach out, brushing a bit of lint from his jacket collar with a fond, gentle smile.

"You better take care of him," you say softly, nodding toward Bucky. "And yourself too, Stevie."

Steve gives you a shy little smile, the kind that barely tugs the corners of his mouth. "I will. I promise."

You hesitate for a second, then wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He stiffens just a little at first—like he's still not used to being held—but then he melts into it, arms wrapping around your waist carefully.

"I'm gonna write to you," he murmurs near your ear. "Keep you updated on how many times I have to drag Bucky outta trouble."

You laugh, and the sound catches at the back of your throat.

"Don't let him flirt with the nurses too much," you say, shooting Bucky a teasing glare over Steve's shoulder.

"Hey!" Bucky protests, arms crossed with mock offense. "You supervise me, remember? Nobody else gets to."

Steve pulls back and looks at you more serious now.

"You're good for him," he says, sincere and quiet. "Don't let the world make you forget it."

Your chest tightens.

"Come back to me," you whisper, your voice cracking just enough for Steve to catch it. He nods solemnly. "We'll do everything we can."

The whistle blows again—sharp and final.

The line of soldiers starts moving. It's time.

Bucky turns to you, eyes wide with everything he hasn't said yet—and everything he can't now.

The crowd fades—the mothers crying, the lovers waving, the officers barker orders—it all disappears.

Bucky turns to you, his uniform wrinkled slightly from your hold, his hair tousled from your fingers, and his eyes locked on yours like they're the only thing he wants to take with him.

He doesn't ask permission. He doesn't speak first.

He just pulls you in.

His handles cradle your face, and then his mouth is on yours—deep, slow, desperate. It's not a goodbye kiss. It's a remember this when everything feels cold kind of kiss.

And you melt into it, your hands gripping the front of his uniform like you can anchor him here, like maybe if yo hold tight enough, the war won't take him from you.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours again, both of you breathless, barely standing.

His voice cracks.

"I love you." He says it like it's the last thing he wants to leave on your lips. "I love you, so damn much." Your name leaves his lips like it should never be spoken.

You blink through tears that finally slip free, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. Your voice is thin, trembling, but sure.

"I love you too, Bucky. Always."

He leans in again, just one more time, to press a kiss to your temple. Then your nose. Then the center of your forehead. He's memorizing you.

And then, with a look you'll carry in your heart forever, he turns—

—and walks toward the train.

Steve's already ahead, duffel bag over his shoulder, casting one last glance over his own before disappearing up the steps.

Bucky doesn't look back.

Because if he did... he might not be able to leave at all.

And just like that, they're gone.

The whistle blows. The wheels turn.

And you're left on the platform, your heart still beating in time with footsteps that are no longer there.

The train disappears down the tracks, swallowed by smoke and steel and the sounds of hearts breaking in unison.

You're still standing there, rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space where Bucky had been just moments ago. Your hands feel cold. Your chest, hollow.

And then you hear your name spoken softly and hesitantly.

A voice you know too well.

You turn, and there she is—Ginny. Her eyes red-rimmed, scarf slipping down her curls, mascara smudged just enough to show she gave up trying to hold it in. She's always been emotional ever since I met her in high school, but today is different.

She walks up to you slowly, and without saying anything more, she throws her arms around you.

You hold her back just as tightly.

The two of you just stand there for a long moment, wrapped around each other like lifelines. No words needed. No bravado. just two girls who gave their hearts to the war and are left holding nothing but the echo.

"I didn't think it'd feel like this," Ginny finally whispers against your shoulder. "Like... like I lost him already. And he just left."

Your throat is tight as you nod. "I know."

She pulls back, sniffles, then tucks her arm through yours. "C'mon. Let's get outta here before someone sees us looking like we walked through a heartbreak hurricane."

You manage a breathy laugh, the first sound that doesn't crack in your chest.

Together, you walk out the station. Two shadows drifting down the crowded sidewalk, leaning on each other in the way only girls who love soldiers can. You don't talk much. You don't need to. Every step you take echoes with what you've just lost, and what you're still holding onto.

And somewhere inside the ache—there's still hope.

Because they're yours.

And love doesn't just disappear.

✪──────•••──────✪

The leaves have turned gold and red, and the air smells like smoke and the fading sweetness of summer. The war hasn't ended—but for a moment, the mail slot rattles with something more than bills and telegrams.

A letter, rough-edged and creased from its journey, arrives in your hands.

From: Sgt James B. Barnes

The handwriting is familiar—quick, a little messy, but unmistakably him.

You sit at the window with a blanket over the knees, the city buzzing faintly below. And you open it with trembling fingers.

⸻⸻⸻

My Dearest,

Doll, I don't even know where to begin.

Everything's loud over here. the noise, the boots, the drills. Even the silence feels like it's screaming sometimes. But somehow... your voice cuts through it all. I hear it in my head, clear as day. That little laugh you do when I say something ridiculous. The way you say my name like it means something.

Hell, you are my peace.

Steve's doing alright. He's still getting used to being looked up to—literally. They gave him the serum. It worked. You should see him. It's still Steve, you know? Still can't lie to save his life. Still orders the worst coffee. But now he can lift a damn jeep.

He talks about you. Wonders how you're holding up. So do I.

I miss Brooklyn. I miss our diner booth. I miss your strawberry milkshakes, and the way you somehow get whipped cream on your nose every damn time. But mostly, I miss you.

I fall asleep trying to remember the exact shade of your eyes.

I dream of holding your hand again, walking you home under the streetlights.

I dream of your voice whispering "I love you" like it's a secret meant for only me.

Promise me something—don't stop being you. The world's ugly right now, but knowing you're out there being soft and kind and all heart... that's what keeps me breathing.

Yours. Always

—Bucky

⸻⸻⸻

You reread it three times. And then once more, just to feel close again.

The city keeps moving outside your window.

But for a moment—just one—you feel his arms around you.

You grab your favorite pen—the one with the little crack in the cap from that time Bucky borrowed it and forgot it in his coat—and you sit down at your tiny kitchen table.

The city hums outside your window, a streetcar rattling by and someone yelling in the distance. But your world is still, focused, warm with love that has crossed oceans just to reach you.

You press the pen to the page.

⸻⸻⸻

My Bucky,

I must've read your letter five times already, and every time I do, it feels like your hands are wrapped around mine again. Like you're right here beside me, stealing the whipped cream off my milkshake and pretending I didn't catch you.

I miss you so much it hurts. Every street I walk down feels empty without your laugh beside me. Every corner of this city whispers you.

But knowing you're out there, holding strong, still carrying Steve and that enormous heart of his—I'm so proud of you. Of both of you.

You asked me to promise not to stop being myself. So I'm trying. I still go to our booth. Still walk past the stoop and imagine you there, giving me that cocky grin like you knew the universe would bend for me if you asked it to.

Please come home to me Bucky. I'm keeping your heart safe with mine. Always.

All my love,

—Your girl

⸻⸻⸻

You seal the envelope carefully, pressing your lips to the back of it for luck. And then you slip it into your coat pocket and make your way to Ginny's brownstone, your boots clicking softly on the chilly sidewalk.

On the way you drop the letter in a mailbox, slightly reluctant.

The building smells like old wood and cooking onions. You knock once. Twice.

The door opens a crack, and then there's Ginny—still in curlers, wrapped in a robe, clutching a steaming mug of something that smells faintly of cinnamon and sarcasm.

"Tell me that's a letter," she says, blinking sleep from her eyes.

You hold it up. "From Bucky."

Her face softens instantly. "Tommy wrote too." She opens the door wider. "C'mon in. I'll warm up some coffee. You read me yours, I'll read you mine."

You step inside, and for the first time since that train pulled away, the ache feels a little easier to carry.

You both settle on Ginny's threadbare couch, legs curled beneath you like two girls at a sleepover instead of two sweethearts carrying the weight of the world.

She hands you a mug of warm cinnamon coffee, and you pull Bucky's letter from your coat pocket like it's made of gold. Ginny does the same with Tommy's—hers folded more times than necessary, soft and worn from being read in quiet corners of the night.

"On three?" she says, holding hers like it's a promise wrapped in paper.

You nod.

"One... two..."

And you both read.

⸻⸻⸻

Ginny-girl,

You won't believe the way the sun rises over these fields. Nothing like Brooklyn. It's like the whole sky is on fire, and for a second, even the war shuts up and watches.

I still carry your picture in my chest pocket—show it off like a fool. The guys say I've gone soft. Maybe I have. But I told 'em, "You ain't never met a girl like mine." That shut 'em up.

I miss your voice. I miss your sass. I even miss the way you steal my fries and then claim it's "just a taste."

We sleep in tents now. There's mud everywhere. My boots have officially started protesting. I got paired up with some fella from Chicago who snores like a dying engine. But I swear, Gin—when I close my eyes, I can hear your laugh clearer than anything else.

I'm staying safe. I'm stayin' sharp. And I'm comin' home to you. So keep my coat warm, and don't let the cat take my side of the bed.

All my heart,

—Tommy

⸻⸻⸻

Ginny sniffling by the end of it, laughing through her tears.

"That idiot," she says softly, clutching the letter to her chest. "He really thinks I'm gonna wait to steal his fries?" She wipes at her cheek. "I already ate half of his birthday cake last week."

You smile and I read her my letter from Bucky. Her mouth twitching at the parts about whipped cream and Steve.

When I finish, she exhales a long, wistful sigh.

"God," she murmurs, folding the paper carefully, "he's a goner for you."

You nod. "I'm a goner for him too."

She rests her head on your shoulder. "I like hearing their voices through each other's words. Like they're still here. Like we're not just waiting ghosts."

The two of you sit in that silence a while longer—holding letters instead of hands, reading ink instead of voices—but somehow... feeling them all the same.

✪──────•••──────✪

A chill in the air has teeth, but the sky is soft—honey-colored and hazy with that kind of light that makes everything feel suspended in time. The city clatters on around you, but you and Ginny?

You're in your own little world.

You're both bundled up in coats, hands wrapped around paper cones of roasted almonds, strolling down 43rd talking about everything and nothing. Ginny's recounting some scandal involving Mrs. Caputo and the butcher's assistant, complete with gasps and dramatic reenactments.

"I swear on Tommy's good socks—she was batting her lashes like she didn't still have curlers in her hair!"

You laugh, the kind that bubbles out unexpectedly, warm and full—something you didn't think you'd feel again so soon.

And then—

Boom. Boom. BOOM.

The sound of feet pounding the pavement.

You both freeze.

A blur streaks past—tall, broad, fast as hell, moving like lightning in a uniform that strains at the seams.

A collective ripples down the block as people stumble out of the way. He's chasing someone—a thief, maybe? A man in a gray coat darts through the crowd, knocking over fruit stands and yelling curses.

but the blonde man behind him doesn't slow. He's a machine—arms pumping, eyes sharp, feet barely touching the ground as he closes the distance with impossible speed.

Your heart jolts.

There's something familiar in the way he moves—his determination, his posture, even the curve of his jaw in profile as he blows past.

Ginny grabs your arm. "Did you see that guy?! He's like a moving brick wall!"

You stare after him, still catching your breath.

"I... think that was Steve." Your voice hushed. "But it couldn't be. Could it?"

Ginny's eyes go wide. "Steve? Steve Rogers?! That wasn't a Steve, that was a statue of Hercules come to life!"

You don't answer. Your mind is racing.

The serum. The letter. Bucky's voice in your memory—"They gave him the serum. It worked."

Your heart thunders.

Because whoever that was... it moved like someone with purpose. Someone with a cause.

You and Ginny exchange one glance—wide-eyed, breath caught—and then you're both running.

Your boots clack against the sidewalk, the cone of almonds forgotten somewhere behind you. People shout, scatter, but the commotion pulls you forward like a thread you can't afford to lose.

Down the block. Past the bakery. Past the laundromat. Toward the docks.

Your lungs burn, your heart hammering—you don't stop.

You reach the edge of the warehouses, where crates are stacked like crooked teeth and the scent of salt and smoke hangs in the air.

And that's when you see him.

Steve.

But not the Steve you know.

This man—he's tall. Built. Unrecognizable at first glance. His uniform is stretched tight over muscle you swear wasn't there a week ago. His posture, his strength, the authority in the way he moves—it makes your breath catch.

But then he turns slightly. And you see him.

His eyes.

His jaw.

That same determined fire that used to get him beat up in alleyways behind movie theaters.

"Steve," you whisper, unable to stop yourself.

He doesn't hear you—he's focused, confronting a man near the edge of the dock. The guy's got something clutched to his chest—a small silver case, glinting in the sun.

There's shouting.

The man fires a gun.

Steve dodges.

He dodges a bullet. Like it's instinct. Like his body already knows it can.

Ginny grabs your wrist. "...what the hell is going on?"

You don't answer.

Because Steve launches himself forward, tackling the man with a force that sends both of them crashing into the water below.

You gasp, hand over your mouth.

People rush to the edge, shouting, A moment passes—two—and then:

Steve surfaces. Dragging the man behind him.

Alive.

And still clutching that damn case.

Applause erupts. The crowd pushes in. Military men rush down from the surrounding buildings.

You and Ginny stand frozen, watching as Steve climbs up onto the dock, soaked and heaving, but standing taller than you've ever seen him.

You don't move.

You can't.

Your feet are frozen to the dock, your hand still clasped over your mouth, heart rattling in your chest like a bird in a cage. The world continues around you—soldiers shouting, officials rushing forward, the crowd pressing in to see the hero who just chased down a man faster than anyone should be able to.

Steve pulls himself upright, dripping and breathless, the strange silver case now in the hands of the surrounding officers. A man in a suit—sharp, important-looking—steps forward and claps him on the shoulder, saying something too low for you to hear.

Steve barely reacts. His eyes are scanning the crowd, distant, alert. Like he's searching for something—or someone.

You almost call his name again. But you don't.

There's awe swelling in your chest. And fear. And pride. All tangled together in a way that makes your throat ache.

Ginny finally whispers, almost like she's afraid to break the spell.

"That's really him... isn't it?"

You nod, slowly.

"It is."

Just then, Steve looks your way. Eyes flicking through the crowd. His gaze lingers on you—just long enough that you think he recognizes you. His brow softening just so.

And then he's swept away by the crowd.

Pulled into something bigger than all of you.

You and Ginny stand there for another moment in silence, watching history walk away in wet boots and a rumpled uniform.

And all you can think is

"Bucky was right."

✪──────•••──────✪

The air is damp, heavy with promise of rain. You're curled up by the window again, the sky dimming into a moody gray, when the mail slot creaks open and a letter drops to the floor like a secret.

Your heart lurches.

You know that envelope. That handwritting.

Bucky.

You pick it up with careful hands, your fingers already tracing over the loops of your name before you even sit down.

⸻⸻⸻

From: Sgt. James B. Barnes - Somewhere in Europe

My love,

You ever get that feeling in your chest, like something's changed back home and the wind's trying to tell you?

I had that a few days ago. Woke up in the middle of the night—cold, sweating, and thinking of Brooklyn. Of you. And of Steve.

Turns out, I was right.

They told us. The serum worked. Steve's Captain America now.

Let that sink in.

I couldn't believe it at first. Thought they were pulling my leg. But then I saw a picture in one of the local papers—him standing there, tall as anything, holding a shield like it was born in his hands. I'm sure you've seen the pictures back home too, his face and shield are just everywhere now.

I swear to god, sweetheart, I didn't cry. But I damn near did.

He's always deserved more than what the world gave him. And now? Now he can actually fight back. He's gonna change things. I know it.

But a part of me... I don't know.

I miss the kid version of him, the one who couldn't walk past a wrong without jumping in and getting knocked out. That Steve? He's still in there. I hope he is.

I worry somethings. Not about me, or the war. I worry about what power does to a good man. Even a good man like Steve.

And I miss you more than I can stand. I read your last letter a dozen times. Folded it into the inside pocket of my jacket. It keeps me warm when the nights get real cold out here.

I dreamt about you last night. We were dancing on the stoop to a song on the radio. You wore that little red ribbon in your hair and kept telling me to stop stepping on your toes.

You laughed. And I swear, I felt it.

Don't stop writing, doll. You're my light in all this.

Yours, Always.

—Bucky

⸻⸻⸻

Your fingers linger on the paper, and you press it to your chest.

Outside, the rain finally begins to fall—soft steady. But inside, you're held by his words.

You don't even wait for the rain to pass.

You light the lamp, pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulder, and grab your pen and fresh paper from the drawer like a ritual—one you've come to know by heart.

The moment the ink touches the page, your hand moves without hesitation.

⸻⸻⸻

My dearest Bucky,

I saw him.

I didn't think I'd believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. But I did. I saw Steve.

He came running down the streets of Brooklyn—taller, broader, faster than anyone should be. But I swear to you, Bucky, it was him. I'd know those eyes anywhere. He was chasing someone, something important. There was chaos, noise, people shouting—but all I could see was Steve doing what Steve always does:

Trying to save the world.

I stood frozen, too stunned to call his name. He looked right past me, or maybe through me, like his mind was already miles ahead. But for a moment—just one—our eyes met. And I think he knew it was me.

And I think he was still him.

It scared me, Buck. Because you were right... sometimes, power changes people. But if there's anyone strong enough to carry it without losing himself, it's Steve Rogers.

Still, I can't stop thinking—if he's out there becoming a symbol, what happens to the boys who are just trying to stay themselves? Like you.

I want you to know, no matter how loud the war gets, your voice still finds me. Every letter is like coming home again. I carry your words like armor, and they keep the cold out even when the world feels like it's cracking apart.

Come back to me, Bucky. When you do, I want to slow dance on the stoop. No music. No shoes. Just you, me, and maybe that red ribbon in my hair again.

Forever yours,

—Your girl

⸻⸻⸻

You seal the letter with care, pressing it to your lips before slipping it into the envelope.

You don't cry this time.

Because love like this?

It doesn't shatter—it anchors.

✪──────•••──────✪

Brooklyn, New York - 1945

The air is thick with heat and memory, the kind of warmth that clings to your skin and makes the nights feel slower, softer—more fragile. The war is still raging overseas, but here in Brooklyn, the streets are alive. Music drifts out of open windows. Screen doors creak. Somewhere down the block, kids are setting off firecrackers even though they're not supposed to.

You and Ginny weave through it all, arm in arm, your heels clacking gently against the pavement, laughter slipping between sips of shared cherry soda.

Your dresses sway in the breeze, and your cheeks ache from smiling too much—but it's the kind of ache you welcome. Because for once, the weight of waiting isn't the only thing filling your lungs.

Ginny nudges you with her elbow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "That guy at the soda counter? The one with the suspenders and the lazy eye? He was this close to offering me a ring pop."

You snort, wiping at your lipstick with a napkin. "You would've taken it too. Just to mess with him."

"Damn right," she says proudly. "But only if it came with fires."

You both dissolve into laughter again, turning onto your street. The porch lights are glowing like beacons, the steps all worn in the middle from the years of late-night conversations and barefoot morning.

When you reach your stoop, Ginny slows, letting your arms slip apart.

She looks at you for a beat, her eyes suddenly a little too shiny in the streetlight.

"You're all I got right now, you know that?" she says. "Everyone else talks about dances and dates and weddings. But they don't know what it's like to love someone who might not come back."

You nod, the weight of it pressing gently against your ribs.

"I know."

She wraps you in a hug—tight, familiar, comforting in the way only another war sweetheart can be. You stay there for a moment, holding each other like it matters.

Because it does.

"Write to me tomorrow?" she murmurs.

"Always," you promise.

She steps back, brushing her curls from her forehead, her tone lighter again. "If you get another letter from Bucky, I get dibs on reading it second."

You smile, stepping back onto your stoop. "Only if I get dibs on Tommy's love poems."

Ginny grins. "Deal."

She starts down the sidewalk, waving lazily behind her. Her figure grows smaller as she head toward her brownstone just a few blocks down, blending into the warm hush of a Brooklyn summer night.

You watch her go for a while.

You turn the key in the door, the soft click of the lock sliding into place like a whisper.

Just as you reach for the doorknob—

A hand clamps down over your mouth.

Your scream catches in your throat, muffled thick by cloth. Another pair of hands grabs your arms, yanking you back into the shadows between the stoops. The cloth against your face is soaked in something sharp and sweet, a scent that makes your vision blur almost instantly.

You kick. Twist. Fight.

But your limbs go heavy.

Your last blurry glimpse is of a dark figure, speaking in a cold, clipped accent. German. The voice is unreadable—clinical, detached.

"She'll do. Take her."

Your knees buckle, and the world narrows to a tunnel. Lights fade into stars. You feel your body being dragged, hear the creak of a car door opening, the hum of an engine.

Then—

Nothing.

Just the sound of your heart slowing... and the world going quiet.

✪──────•••──────✪

Meanwhile...

Somewhere overseas, in the mud and smoke of Europe, Bucky Barnes jolts awake in the middle of the night.

He sits up, chest heaving, heart pounding like a war drum. His hands tremble as he pushes his damp hair back.

He doesn't know why. But something is wrong.

He feels it.

✪──────•••──────✪

I think this was more of a filler chapter, but I also think it helps with world and character building so I guess that's a plus?? (＠_＠;) Sorry for the lack of Bucky too, I promise he'll be around more again!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fic #bucky smut #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader

48 notes · View notes

magicalbuttertarts · 1 day ago

Text

WWE Masterlist

Part 1 - WW2 AU.

Damian meets the love of his life just days before being shipped out. This is their love story.

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: none. Mentions whites only places, as that is how it was then. Hints to sex but nothing descriptive.

WC: 2037

Requested by no one, but it was stuck in my head, & i need to get this out.

AN: yes I know I have other stuff to work on, but this I had to get out of my head.

I watched from the side as Rhea and Buddy danced the night away, as this one of the last few nights that they have together before Buddy and I were shipped out to lord knows where.

The two of them insisted on taking me out, even though I told them that I didn't want to go out.

I wanted to spend time at home, and just enjoy the final moments of peace before I am being shot at.

But the two of them showed up at my door, all dressed up in their finest threads and practically dragged me out of my apartment.

I figured they had this all planned when we walked past the Whites-Only dance halls, and found ourselves in line at the Palladium.

The line was filled with men and women, all dressed to the nines in either their regular clothes, or their dress uniforms.

It took a bit to get in, but when we were, the live band's music hit my ears, and I screamed at Rhea that I would be getting a drink.

As I walked by, I did have plenty of women look me up and down, but none of them caught my attention

Knowing that I will be leaving in a few days did not help this situation, so I stood off to the side, watching my friends dance as I drank, and talking to a few other people I knew.

I was just about to leave when I felt someone bump into me.

I heard a soft "hmph" before I wrapped my arm around her waist and held her against me so she didn't fall on the ground.

"Are you okay?" I asked her as I looked down, and the moment my eyes connected with hers, it was like time stopped.

The music seemed to fade into the background as her and I just stared into each other's eyes.

"Yes, thank you. I am sorry for bumping into you. I don't know how I missed you. You are so tall, and muscular, I mean," She started to stutter and I found it absolutely adorable that she was trying to cover up the compliment.

"No worries Doll. Let me get you another drink, as you dropped yours." I said to her as I finally dropped my arm to the side, so I was no longer holding her.

"No, no, I dropped my drink all over your shoes. Let me buy you a drink." I looked down at my shoes, and there was but one little drop of liquid on my shoes.

"How about you get this one, and I get the next one?" I compromised, as I held my arm out for her to take.

She softly smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear as she looped her arm through mine.

"I am sorry, I never caught your name. My name is Damian."

"Hello Damian." She told me her name, and at that moment, I knew I found my soulmate.

◇

Her and I talked all night, until the band members were actually cleaning up and heading out.

Rhea and Buddy have long since gone home, giving me a knowing look after introducing themselves to her.

"I guess we should be going now." She said to me as she yawned.

I looked at my watch and noticed that it read 4:16, and I can't believe I stayed out all night with a woman I just met.

"How about an early breakfast? I know this spot that makes the best revoltillo de huevo." I said, standing up and finally stretching my legs.

"Okay, that sounds delicious, but where would this place be?" She curiously asked me, as there are not many places open this time of day.

"You will just have to wait and see." I held out my hand out for her to take, hoping she would trust me.

She placed her hand in mine, and I closed my hand arounds hers, helping her to stand, and we left the Palladium, and walked to my apartment.

◇

Ever since that night, she and I have spent all our free time together, just trying to get to know one another, and before I knew it, it was the last night before I had to ship out.

Her and I found ourselves at the same place that started this all, the Palladium.

The band played a slow song, her and I swaying to the music, along with every other couple in the crowd.

As the song came to an end, she placed her head against my chest, and I could feel her body shaking slightly.

I pulled back and asked her to look up at me, and she shook her head no.

I placed my hand under her chin, urging her to look up at me, and when she did, she just broke my heart.

She had tears in her eyes, and I gently wiped them away.

"What's wrong, Doll?" I asked her, but I already knew the answer.

"I don't want you to go. I just found you, and now you are being ripped away from me."

I didn't say anything, as I felt the exact same way.

I leaned in and placed my lips against hers and kissed her for the first time.

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest as the two of us stood there, kissing in a room full of people, but no one paid us any mind, as they were all in the same boat as the two of us.

We pulled apart as we needed air.

"Take me home Damian." My eyes widened, and I asked her if she was sure.

"I want to spend one last night with you before you leave tomorrow."

Her and I spent our first night together, falling asleep in each other's arms.

◇

I held her in my arms as we kissed goodbye, not wanting this moment to end, because the moment it does, I will be on the ship and off to Europe to fight.

I placed my forehead against hers, wanting to tell her that I love her, and that I will do everything I can to get back home to her.

"Please be safe Damian." She whispered.

"I will try."

And the final call was that it was time to get on the ship.

She and I kissed one last time, and I left her standing there, with Rhea coming up next to her, and Buddy joining my side as we walked onto the ship, to leave the harbour and to make our way to the ocean.

I made a silent promise to myself that I will come back to her.

◇

When her first letter came, I read it over and over again, responding back when I could.

Her third letter, she included a photo of herself and I placed it in my pocket, always keeping it close to my heart.

I would stare at her photo in times of need, when I was losing all hope.

But then our unit was allowed to have a break and go back home.

Buddy and I were on the first boat back to New York, as Rhea refused to leave New York and go back to Australia.

Rhea and my Doll, as I have come to call her, were waiting for us when we docked.

I dropped my stuff the moment I saw her running at me, and jumped into my arms, people staring at us, but we did not care.

Not when we have been apart for so long.

I put her down, and she started to look over me, asking me if I was hurt or not.

"I would have told you love."

"I know Damian, I just still worry."

I kissed her temple, and the two of us walked back to her car, Buddy and Rhea joining us as Rhea and her came together.

◇

We dropped Rhea and Buddy off at their place, promising to meet up for dinner tonight, as we knew that they wanted some alone time, just like her and I did.

But I had one thing to ask her before we got out of the car.

"Damian, I have made your favourite, and I have kept your place clean." My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest as I listened to her talk about what she has been up to all these months.

"I have to ask you something?" I finally got out.

"Yes Damian?"

The air became thick between us as I reached into my bag and pulled out the velvet box.

I watched her eyes get real wide as she covered her mouth with her hands.

"I knew the moment we met that you were the one for me, and even though we didn't get much time together before I was shipped out, but love for you never twindled, if anything it grew. I keep your letters on my person at all times. Your photo is my shirt pocket, over my heart, and when I stare at you, I can just think of nothing but our future together. I love you, and I want to spend whatever moments we have on this planet together. Will you marry me, my love, my soulmate, my Doll?"

"Yes Damian, I will marry you."

I placed the ring on her hand, and kissed her, not believing she said yes.

"Let's go inside and celebrate." She said to me, and ohh did we celebrate.

So much so that we forgot about Rhea and Buddy, until I heard knocking on the door.

I carefully moved her off my chest, as she was fast asleep. I put on pajama bottoms and walked through my apartment as quietly as I could.

I opened the door, to one mad woman, and one man who was trying to calm down his wife.

"Will you two keep it down? We are trying to celebrate." I loudly whispered, looking over my shoulder at the bedroom to see if she was coming out or not.

"Celebrating what?" Rhea asked, trying to walk in, but I didn't budge.

"We can reschedule dinner. How about lunch tomorrow? My treat."

"Damian." Rhea scolded me, crossing her arms over her chest, as Buddy just had a knowing look on his face.

"I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Now see you two tomorrow. Good night." I closed the door in their faces, Rhea sputtering and Buddy laughing at the two of us.

I crawled back into bed, and pulled her back into my arms.

"Mmmm, who was that?" She mumbled.

I ran my fingers through her hair, as I told her it was just Rhea and Buddy, and that I rescheduled for lunch tomorrow.

◇

Rhea made sure that the two of us were there, congratulating the two of us.

"When will you two be getting married?" Buddy asked, as he was able to finally get a word in.

"We are just thinking of going down to city hall, and getting married before I ship out next." Just the thought of me leaving her once made me feel sad, but knowing she will be my wife lifted my spirits.

"Well, we are all here, let's go now. I know that there is a lineup as so many people have had the same thought like us." She said as she sipped her drink.

"Yes, let's go right now." Rhea stood up, excited for this wedding.

◇

We got married, with Rhea and Buddy as our Maid of Honour and Best Man.

The two of them treated us to a nice dinner, and we went dancing.

We went back to what is now our apartment to celebrate our wedding night.

The next morning, I informed her landlord that she was moving out, and we moved her into our place.

This almost felt normal until it was time for me to leave once again. Our time was cut short.

As I stood on the ship, my eyes never left her form as we pulled away.

My heart is aching for the woman who I love, who I hope I come back home to safely.

◇

Part 2 - coming soon.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @terrortwinunicorn @blackwingedmisanthrope @sunshinevirus

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fiction #damian priest x y/n #damian priest x female reader #damian priest x f/Reader #Damian Priest x you #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fluff #Damian Priest

20 notes · View notes

cubtales · 2 days ago

Text

HALLO my loves, ilu ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ my apologies for being ia shdjdm life decided to crash down on me lols !!

um um how my days been to who may care / want to know :'3

been busy preparing for my grandfathers funeral since it's next week and i'm in charge of design and coordinating the food + more ! i'm trying to be that rock my mother needs but negative feelings end up crashing on me !! ^^; she doesn't have many to lean on and i'm happily taking that role but theres times where even i can't handle it T^T i'm doing better but last week i was SOO gloomy it was horrendous i did not want to bring that energy !!!

though i also was able to go out tons this weekend ! one was with a friend 🥹🫶🏽 which was really refreshing ! ! i believe she just wanted to get me out the house though because i have a habit of overworking ^^ and another was a lovely wedding ! i knew her since childhood so i'm sooo happy for those newlyweds :3 the venue was gorgeous and decorated with lavender and white ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ it was a good time .. besides the food ^^; but last was a picnic at the park with siblings + puppy, i don't like them being surrounded by sad energy the funeral prep brings so we painted and nommed on some snacks 🌀

besides all that i've just been throwing volunteer work with my daycare kids and elderly / clothing donations as i always do !! ( now that i remember i should've went to the food banks near by... writing that down ) but yeth hallo ! i'm quite exhausted & in need a proper meal since sunday maybe ^^; HSKLSB those have been my days thank u for taking time to read this if u did, i love you !! i hope your days have been well and filled with smiles ! if not pls allow me to hug you super duper tight! you're gonna get through this i prommy !!!! MWAH

oh also i'm gonna focus on reblogging lately.. i don't feel too well about myself or me and argenti that i've been considering deactivating ^^; so if im more quiet pls don't mind me !

#〝 𝓬��𝓫𝓬𝓱✩𝓽𝓼 ₊ ࣪ ㅤ ꣓ㅤ #oh oh i did play the star world event while i could!!!! i just love tycoon games its been such a distresser #gna start 3.2 rn!!!' been avoiding spoilers so hard i can't wait!!#hope you guys are taking care of yourself!! the sun is smiling down on u lovelies

28 notes · View notes

ofgrenvde · 2 days ago

Text

Those three words—"I love you"—hung in the air between them. Ezra felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. His mind tried to process everything at once, her confession of love colliding violently with the revelation of who she really was. The woman sitting across from him, the woman he'd fallen for, had been lying the entire time. "Not everything. Just the fact that you founded an organization I've been fighting against?" His voice came out hoarse, barely controlled. "You can't separate those things, Cynthia." Every memory between them suddenly felt tainted. Those quiet moments, her smile in the morning light, the way she'd curl against him at night. All of it felt like a lie now. "What part exactly? The part where I trusted you with details about my work, my life, things I never tell anyone?" She was claiming it wasn't a joke, that she wouldn't admit this to just any man. That only made it worse.

The implication that he was special, that he'd somehow earned her honesty—it stung more than if it had all been calculated from the start. "You're in love with me." The words tasted bitter. He'd imagined hearing her say those words so many times, but never like this, never as part of a desperate attempt to salvage a relationship built on deception. "And that's supposed to make this okay? You couldn't hurt me… What do you think you're doing right now?" His chest felt tight. He'd fallen so hard for her, had been ready to tell her how he felt. He'd even been planning to take her away for a weekend, somewhere quiet where they could just be together without the constant shadow of this goddamned city looming over them. Now that future was crumbling before his eyes.

"I don't care about Mercer or his motivations. I care about the fact that the woman I've been with, the woman I've..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Saying it would make him too vulnerable. The pain in her voice when she said she didn't know how to make him believe her almost broke through his anger. Part of him wanted to reach across the table, to comfort her, and find some way back to what they had. But what had they really had? How much of it was genuine? "You're talking about an 'after' like this is just some bump in the road we can get past. This isn't a misunderstanding or a small secret, Cynthia. This is fundamental. You're asking me to believe that everything about us was real except for the one thing that defines who you are in this city." His fingers gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. He'd let her see parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else. He'd shown her his scars, literal and metaphorical. All while she kept the biggest part of herself in shadow.

"You know what hurts the worst? I believed in what we had. I thought I'd finally found someone who understood me, who I could let in without fear. Do you know how rare that is for me? To actually trust someone? And all along, you were living this double life." The most painful part was that he still felt something for her, even now. That pull, that love—it hadn't just disappeared with her revelation. And that made him furious at himself, that even with this betrayal laid bare, his heart still reached for her. "You say you love me, but love doesn't work like this. Love doesn't manipulate. It doesn't keep secrets that cut to the core of who you are." He'd never said those words to her—that he loved her. He'd shown it in other ways: in the birthday surprises, in the way he'd let her into his space, in how he'd slowly begun to plan a future that included her.

Now those unspoken feelings festered inside him, turning to poison. "I'm supposed to just trust you now? After learning that our entire relationship was built around this massive lie? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you've been deceiving me about something so fundamental from the very beginning?" He'd spent years building walls around himself after Chicago, making sure no one could get close enough to hurt him. She had somehow scaled those walls, made him believe it was safe to let someone in again. The betrayal of that trust cut deeper than any physical wound ever could. "I can't do this." His voice cracked. "I can't sit here and listen to you tell me you love me when I don't even know who you really are anymore."

Fear.

It was a feeling that Cynthia hadn’t felt in a while. The fear of losing Ezra on her birthday was certainly going to be a shitty gift to remember each year. However, the fighter in her knew that she needed to figure out a way to fix this even if his words were hurtful. She had to remind herself that he didn’t have the full picture and that his reactions were valid. After all, she did lie and it was somewhat too late to come clean when they were this deep in their relationship. She could understand that there was a breach of trust between them, but it wasn’t her intention as everything else that she showed and experienced with him was real. However, she was struggling to convey that as Ezra kept coming at her with every worst possible thought he could think of and it broke her heart to think that he saw her in this way.

“No, not everything…” she managed to whisper out as she looked away in shame. “It was only that fact…Everything else was real.” Taking a deep breath, she clenched and unclenched her fists as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. She didn’t want to attract too much attention, but Ezra’s accusations about their relationship were cutting deep. “No…” She could practically feel her throat close up, a feeling of anxiety and frustration building up inside her, as she felt completely stupid for even thinking she had a chance at a meaningful relationship. “Does it look like I’m fucking joking?” she asked in disbelief. “You think I would throw everything I worked for and admit it to just any man!?”

A pained expression appeared on her face as she wondered if she had made the wrong decision of putting her heart first over everything. At this rate, she had nothing to lose and was willing to accept whatever came next. Scoffing slightly, she tossed her napkin onto the table and grabbed her purse as a crutch to keep her distracted from her blood boiling—might as well pay for the bill at this point seeing as this whole brunch had gone wrong. “Did it ever occur that I’m so in love with you Ezra and that I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. I had already planned on telling you the truth, but when the explosion happened and it was all under our name—I had to bring back order amongst all that chaos and figure out if we were even responsible because contrary to popular belief, that whole thing wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.” God, she should have killed Mercer when she had a chance. She was going to have a long talk with Zelie in regards to how to deal with these traitors and incompetent members because after all this, she never wanted them to leave unscathed. “—Mercer acted on his own, he tarnished our objective and our name. I don't blame him for wanting to go after the Six though, because I empathize with what he had went through. I too lost someone who was just as important to me all thanks to them. Now by the time this was all sorted out, the damage was already done. I knew there would never be a right time, but I was doing everything I can to consider your feelings and properly convey the truth.”

A helpless expression appeared on her face as she wasn’t sure how else to answer his question, “I don’t know how to make you believe me…” This time her tone faltered into a softer one as she felt like she had exhausted all her options. “You were never leverage, a distraction or even a pawn…You’re someone that I love so deeply and still do. I can’t imagine a life without you…Everything about us is as real as it gets, when I think of an after…All I see is you. In fact, as fucking insane as this sounds, you give me hope for an ‘after’. So please...please trust in me...."

#threads: ezra avebury #ezra && cynthia 05 #//sobs my heart. make it stop omg #//also oop on the length. he has a lot of feelings and so do i

17 notes · View notes