gublerie

[xenocorner]

Small sketch page of some of my marvel blorbos ;; Couldn't fit all of them in it nor had the time but hey I got the itch scratched kinda

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

JUST LIKE HIM

Request: N/A, because no one would be cruel enough to request this

A/N: I… am so… SORRY.

Dad!Steve x reader

Word count: 1680

Summary: Your little girl is growing up to be a carbon copy of her father, you only wish he was around to see it.

Warnings: sadness, so much sadness, angst, nightmares, anxiety and PTSD, smidge of racism (it’s avenged though because racism is not cool) funerals, death

(GIFs not mine)

      It was nearly two in the morning, and, as usual, the bed felt grotesquely… empty. You missed him so much.  You missed him so much it hurt to say his name. You missed him so much, neither you nor your daughter, Deirdre, ever got a full night’s rest.   Deirdre was almost eight, but she still spent most nights sleeping in your bed because of nightmares.

Poor thing, ever since her father left, she’s struggled with terrible anxiety; no eight-year-old should have to deal with that! She was barely old enough to understand what was going on with her brain and she was already popping pills just to ease the pain.  It broke your heart every time you saw that obnoxiously orange prescription bottle in her room.  What made it even sadder, was that the bottle sat right next to a framed photo taken of your little family on your last trip to Disney World.  Everyone was smiling in that picture.  You had your flower mickey mouse ears on, your husband was wearing his Donald Duck baseball cap and was holding Deirdre as she wore her adorable Cinderella costume.

Oh, how Deirdre missed her father.  She may have only known him for six years, but she almost never stopped talking about her dad.  She always talked about the games he would play with her or the time he came to her school’s career day as Captain America; she would reminisce about the family outings in the city her dad always insisted that they have, she even had some framed drawings of his on her bedroom walls.

That was one thing she and her father had in common; they both loved art.  Deirdre always asked her dad when she would get as good as him.  He always responded in the cutest, most heartfelt way, “if you practice every day, create what’s on your heart, and love what you make, you’ll be ten times better than me,”.  That phrase always made you want to cry, more so now than ever.

Deirdre was always so courageous too, just like her father.  You were once called by the school because she punched a kid in the face.  When you and her father went to meet with the principle, you asked why she did such a thing.  Apparently, the kid she punched was making fun of an African-American boy for his skin color.  Deirdre didn’t like what the kid was doing, so he punched him in the nose and made friends with the African-American boy.  Her father was so proud of his little girl.  What was even cuter, was that the Deirdre and the boy she saved, Thomas, are now best friends.  Friends you can only compare to Steve and Bucky.

You smiled at the memory.  Deirdre was always like that, like her dad.  She was so smart and creative, a little reckless at times, but, her heart was always in the right place.  She had his smile, his eyes, his cute laugh, she was exactly like her father.

 Just then, you heard the creaking of your door opening.  You sat up to see Deirdre standing in the doorway, clutching her little, stuffed dog to her chest.  “Mommy… I had a nightmare…” she whimpered, sniffling a little bit, “can I sleep with you?”.

This reminded you so much of her father when you two were first dating.  With Steve’s vivid and often occurring nightmares, he often slept in your bed for comfort.  He would knock on your door, dragging either his pillow or his blanket behind him, and stand in your doorway with an innocent face.  Once you turned to look at his tired figure, he’d look at you and ask, “(Y/N)?  Can I sleep with you tonight?  I had another nightmare…” …. Just like Deirdre would.

 “Of course Deedee, come over here,” you cooed, reaching your arms out to welcome her.  She shuffled over, crawling under the big, white comforter, and cuddled up to you, tucking her head under your chin.  She always made the bed a lot less lonely.

“Mommy, I miss daddy,” Deirdre whimpered, fiddling with her stuffed dog’s ear, “I know Deedee, me too,” you replied.  The little girl shifted over to her back was now to your chest, letting you play with her hair and allowing her to speak more easily. “Do you remember the first time daddy tried to cook dinner while you were on vacation with Auntie Nat and Aunt Wanda?” she asked, sounding slightly happier, but dull at the same time.  You chuckled, “oh, I remember, your dad nearly set the apartment on fire,” you laughed as Deirdre laughed along with you. There it was, that beautiful smile. That beautiful smile that looked exactly like her dad's.

 “Or what about the time he got sprayed with a skunk on his morning run?” you reminded, hoping to keep Deirdre smiling; her smile was so rare these days, you wanted this moment to last as long as possible. “Yeah!” she agreed, giggling still, “he smelled like an old dumpster for hours until you could buy enough tomato juice to make the smell go away!”.

“Oh!  What about the time he bet Uncle Bucky he could do more push-ups than him?” she remembered excitedly, “and Uncle Buck cheated my using his metal arm?  That was pretty funny!”, “yeah, that was not the best idea your father has ever had,” you added.

 For the next half hour, you and your daughter reminisced on good memories you had shared about her father.  You brought up her fifth birthday- oh, her fifth birthday was the best!  She had asked for a Barbie doll that looked like you and a Captain America action figure to go with her baby Barbie, so she could have a doll version of your family.

Deirdre even remembered Georgia, her father’s service dog!  He had gotten Georgia as a S.H.I.E.L.D mandated service dog, to help with his PTSD and Depression.  Deirdre ended up falling in love with this Golden Retriever!  Nothing could separate them!  But, after he left, Georgia was one of the only things Deirdre had left of her father.  But, soon after, Georgia died due to the stress and grief of losing her master. Deirdre was in tears when Georgia left.

 Ugh!  Why did he have to leave on that stupid mission!?  If he had never gone to get that damn USB, he’d still be here!  Why did he have to leave you?!  You started crying at the memory of him, saying the last words you’d ever hear from him over the phone, gunshots and grenades going off in the background…

“(Y/N), baby, we’re outnumbered!” he yelled from the other line.  Your heart sunk.  You were always afraid of something like this happening… “I can’t fight back…” “no! No, Steve!  You always fight back!  Fight back!” you cried through tears of fear and stress.

 “(Y/N), listen to me,” you didn’t want to listen to him, you didn’t want to hear those dreadful words come from his mouth, “I won’t be coming home this time…”.  Those words echoed in your head over and over again.  You didn’t know it at the time, but that sentence would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“(Y/N)… if the rest of the team is going to make it out alive, I need to go ever there and distract the enemy, or else we're all going to die…” Steve sighed over the loud gunshots.  “Steve please…” you begged, nearly sobbing as tears streamed heavily down your cheeks.

“(Y/N)… I have to do this,” he said, right before an explosion went off in the background, “I love you doll, both you and Deirdre.  Tell her that I love her, will you do that for me, doll?”.  You swallowed the lump in your throat, “of course, baby, I’ll tell her that for you…”.  The words almost left a bad taste in your mouth.

“I love you both, and I’ll see you on the other side, okay?  I love you both so so much and I always will,”

“We love you too, St-“ you tried to finish, but a pained cry of agony interrupted you, followed by silence.  “Steve?” you called shakily, clutching the phone so tightly it was possible you could break it, “Steve?  Steve, please answer me!”.  Silence… then static…

He was gone.

Once the body was brought back, Steve was given the most honorable of funerals.  He was buried next to his mom and dad in Brooklyn.  Everyone close to him laid something in his coffin for him to be buried with.  Bucky gave him an old photo of them as kids, Sam left his dog tags from when he was in the Air Force, and Nat laid down the Avengers patch that she wore on the shoulder of her uniform.  You had found something extra special to be buried with Steve.  You gave him your wedding photo and the original ultrasound pictures taken of Deirdre.  You knew he would like to have these.

She didn’t tell you this until later, but Deirdre did lay something of her own in her father’s coffin when you weren’t looking. You asked her what she put in there and she said a copy of the photo taken in Disney World.  That nearly made you cry.  "I wanted daddy and me to be looking at the same picture," she said, wiping tears from her usually bright. blue eyes.

 You looked over at Deirdre, who was, thankfully, sleeping.  It pained you to look at her and see Steve’s image.  Why did he have to leave you two behind?!  He left you, a single mother with a six-year-old daughter, alone!  You were so mad at him!  You were mad but you wanted him back so badly!  You missed his boyish smile, you missed his soothing hugs, you missed his loving kisses, you missed his stories, you missed him biting his lip when he was concentrating; you missed HIM!  You missed Steve and it pained you to look at your daughter and see that she was just like… him.

TAGLIST:

@buckyshattergirl @paranoid-borderline-insane @bitchy-tacos

[hellomissmabel]

Bye Bye Brooklyn Boys (8)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader

Warnings: This is just so sad. Language. ANGST! (When has this even not been an angsty fic series?)

Word count: 2.500

Summary: You finally muster up the courage to go see Steve, but things take an unexpected turn and you’re both hurting even more.

A/N: It’s based on the song “Sinking Ship” by Causes.

September, October, November , December,

January , February, March

April

We were undefined

Steady as the tide

Always fading

Always fading

We both went our separate ways and ended up right back where it all started. When I saw him again after all these months, sitting in his usual spot at the back of the cafeteria, right there by that poor plant that still seems to be getting too much water for its own good,

my heart stopped.

Never mind skipping a beat, it stopped.

As did his when you locked eyes and Sharon’s hearty laugh immediately died down. Steve stopped talking the minute I set foot in the cafeteria, drawing a tiresome sigh from Sharon who, if looks could kill, would’ve send me straight to hell.

I notice the similarities straightaway, the ruffled blond hair and the athletic built of his toned body, his chiselled jaw and ripped torso that’s always struggling with his shirts and I’m 100% positive he buys them one size too small.

On purpose.

Steve should be wearing a large at least if he wishes to comply to the current academic standards and very strict dress code (almost as constricting as his pants, if you don’t mind me saying). But I don’t think the fashion police is going to shoot him down for wearing a medium though, especially not if it accentuates him this well and in all the fucking right places.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves now.

It’s just that Steve and Thor have quite a bit in common, so it’s safe to say I have a type.

I like blond? Shit, I take more after my mother than I initially thought.

“Mind if we talk in private?”

Fuck, my voice is so small, almost non-existent. And fuck, my internal voice really should stop cussing. I’m trying to get a hold of myself, but it’s of no use against Steve.

“Not at all.” His voice seems to be calm and friendly, just like old times. It’s almost as if you didn’t get on that plane and he didn’t just propose to the woman you once called your friend.

Oh, the irony.

You guide him to a quiet spot just around the vending machines, the buzzing too loud for anyone to catch anything you’re about to say. Unless you scream, that is.

“You look nice.”

I do? Has he even taken a good, hard look at me at all? I’m a mess, I am hungover and I’m trying to flush my jetlag down the drain with gallons and gallons of water. I’ve already drunk so much water I might as well be the fucking Titanic! And not to mention my scruffy outfit, it’s almost as scruffy as the beard Steve’s growing and my poor soul be damned if it doesn’t make him look so much more delicious. Does this man get away with everything? Meantime, I’m sporting my favourite pair of blue skinny jeans, a pair of black flats and a floral blouse that’s missing the top button, showing a little bit more cleavage than I’m comfortable with.

Ugh, I look like shit.

“Thank you. I like your shirt.” Really smooth, Y/N. Compliment him on his shirt, the shirt you’ve just been drooling over.

He shrugs nonchalantly but there’s a little twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. “I’m not surprised. After all, it’s purple, your favourite colour.”

“You remember.” Of course he remembers, it’s been a fucking year, that’s all. It’s not like you disappeared off the surface of the earth.

It does sting a little, just a little to hear you haven’t quite left his mind just yet. He obviously does still care for you. “You’re a hard woman to forget.”

Okay, forget about what I just said. It hurts a lot. A lot.

“How long have you been back?”

“About a month now. Professor Banner and I have been staying at Tony’s at first but then I moved back in with Nat and Wanda. Can’t come home without seeing my girls or I wouldn’t be calling it a home in the first place.”

You let out a light laugh, trying to lift the mood with that small smile you know he just can’t resist. That small, cheeky smile you used to grace him with whenever you were feeling mischievous, whenever you felt like taking good ol’ Stevie out on an adventure. Like that time you crashed a party at Sam’s place so you could ask Steve if he wanted to catch a movie, only to end up downing shots until four in the morning at your local bar and making out on Sam’s couch afterwards – his apartment only a short walk from the pub. Of course he ran in on the two of you on his way to class and you’ll never forget the look on his face, a look of infinite disgust mixed with complete and utter delight. You’ve never seen him more happy than the day he saw the two of you sucking face right in front of him. The day you chose Steve over James.

Or at least thought you did.

“I see. What made you come back all of a sudden?,” Steve asks hesitantly, not knowing if that’s the question he really wants to ask you or if it’s an answer he really wants to know.

And now the ball is in your camp. Do you tell him you’re engaged or keep him off your scent for a little while longer? “Professor Banner, I mean, Bruce… He, uhm,…”

You’ve made tough decisions before, but this? This beats all of them. This right here is the best and the worst decision you’re ever going to make. “Bruce asked me to come work for him.”

You deflect the question. Wait, let me repeat that.

You. Deflect. The question.

“He’s actually discussing it with Tony as we speak.” And if you could, you would face-palm yourself immediately. You’re trying to make amends, not scare the guy for fuck’s sake!

“How long are you going to be gone now?”

“The internship will take about two, maybe three years but there is so much to be taken care of first. I need a work visa, I need a certificate and other official documents. I’m afraid it’ll take a while before everything is sorted out and I can…”

He cuts you off, his brows knitted together in an unfriendly frown. “You’re leaving for good then,” he concludes, his jaw visibly clenched and he’s shooting you a hard glare telling you he means business.

And it really pisses you off.

“Steve, don’t. Don’t blame all this shit on me,” you begin only to be interrupted by Steve once more.

“I’m not blaming you, I’m just asking a question. Am I not allowed to asks questions anymore? Seems to me like you’ve won the God damn lottery! A dream job in your dream country, messing around with some big nerds and discussing hard-core science and all that shit like it’s the resurrection of sweet baby Jesus.”

You knew there would be blow-back but you didn’t see this coming, the sheer wrath reddening his eyes with tears of rage and resentment and by the looks of it, he isn’t even finished yet. There’s more dirt on your way, more and more and more to come, Steve’s swallowed by his fury.

“Everything is just fucking perfect in your life right now, isn’t it? Meanwhile I’ve been drinking myself into the gutter and I fucked up a good friendship, for what? For you! But I don’t count anymore, now do I? Because it seems like you’ve found your dream husband as well,” he spits out, pointing at the ring around your finger.

“He’s not you.” It’s a broken whisper but it manages to shut him up nonetheless. You raise your head to look at him, look him straight in the eye when you speak with your heart on your tongue, with your and his heart on the line. “He’s not you Steve.”

“And Sharon’s not you either,” he responds after a moment.  “Y/N, for all it’s worth, I still love you.”

You look at him in utter confusion. “If you love me still, then what are you doing with Sharon? Do you love her? Do you love Sharon?”

Silence. Nothing but silence.

“Do you think you love her?” you try again and he turns away from your piercing gaze, staring outside the window, his eyes trained on something that isn’t there.

And again there’s silence.

“Please answer me Steve,” you beg silently and you’ve never begged for anything in your life. Is Steve truly worth begging for? At this moment you believe he is, so you pour every single emotion into your next question, knowing that this time round it truly is all or nothing. “Do you love her or do you think you love her?”

“I think I do,” he replies softly. “I think I do but I’m not sure,” he begins and you’re trying very hard to hear him out.

But you can’t.

“You think you do but you’re not sure?” A broken sob rips through you and you’ve never felt this wrecked in your entire life. Blood rushes to your face as you repeat his words. “You’re not sure? My God, Steve, how many times are you going to break my heart?”

You raise your voice the highest you can get and you don’t care anymore whether or not everyone can hear every single word that comes out of your mouth, it all tastes like poison anyway. They tumble out and you’re no longer scared to hurt Steve, he’s hurt you enough as it is.

“First James, then you, then James back at it, then you again… It’s like this endless game of back-and-forth. I’m not a ping-pong ball, Steve! You boys both broke my heart over and over and over again until there was nothing left of it. I needed a year, a year Steve, to collect all the bits and pieces and put it back together. Yes, I had a little help from my fiancé, but this right here?” You point to Steve and then back at you, his pained expression like a magnet pulling you in by your heartstrings but you honestly don’t have the strength anymore to reciprocate his desolation, no matter how wretched you feel. He’s sucked all the life out of you.

“It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to him either. I can’t say ‘I do’ when he doesn’t… Thor doesn’t know I’m still…,” you choke on your words, a strangled sob creeping up your throat and you swallow hard. You can’t tell him that you still love him, too. It would only mean your defeat, he would only try and talk you out of it and you don’t want that. You don’t want Steve to talk you out of it because it would work, he would be able to convince you to leave Thor. It’s Steve and no one can compare to Steve.

No one.

“All you need to know is that I would only mean half of it, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Then let’s go! I can ditch Sharon right this very instant! She can keep the fucking ring for all I care!” He’s shouting just as much and as loud as you are, stressing every angry syllable. “I want you! I’ve always wanted you, ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?,” you counter almost instantly, laughing bitterly at the absurdity of the situation. Steve finally, FINALLY tells you exactly what you’ve been dying to hear all those months but the flame has died down, the house has turned to ashes. It means nothing to you anymore, your heart frozen over by the Norwegian cold you’ve surrounded yourself with over the past year.

 “I just need to grab my stuff and then we can go straight to the airport and book a flight to wherever you wanna go. Let’s go, Y/N, let’s go and be together. We are meant to be together, you and I.”

There’s still a spark but it’s not enough to keep you warm, on the contrary it only makes you feel more distant, your eyes glossing over as your blood runs cold.

“Steve, I can’t just elope,” you state calmly with your head held high. “Like you said, this is my dream job. I worked too damn hard for this and I’m not going to let you ruin everything. Not again.”

He has no right to say any of this, he has no right and you intend to snuff out all his preposterious ideas. He doesn’t have a hold on you, that privilege he lost the minute you boarded that plane. “You’re not in any position to ask me anything anymore, Steve.”

He looks at you with so much hope and you can’t stand it anymore, you can’t stand the bite of unshed tears anymore. You’re just too stubborn to cry over him, over anyone for that matter. You bite down harshly on your bottom lip, drawing blood and glaring daggers.

“So this is it? You’re just going to leave it there? Run away again?”

“I didn’t run away,” you hiss at him through gritted teeth and a lonely tear finally makes it way down your cheek.

“Have you told Bucky yet?”

They don’t deserve your tears and as a spiteful laugh swells in your throat, you bite your lip in order to stay calm. “No. And given what I’ve heard from Nat and Wanda, it’s perhaps for the best that he doesn’t hear about it at all. But if he does, maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t hear it from me.”

“You’re really doing this, are you?,” Steve concedes, a glum look on his face. If things were different, you would feel for this man. He sounds battered, bruised and broken, merely a ghost of the Steve you met and fell in love with. Yet it is time to close the proverbial door behind you. Steve doesn’t have to change, he just has to grow up.

“I am.”

You march your way over to the nearest exit, not even bothering to look back at Sharon snickering behind your back. There’s no doubt in your right mind that she heard every single syllable of your heated discussion with Steve and still, still there’s victory written all over her face.

Fuck off, you bitch, you growl internally, You can have him. He’s all yours.

There’s a part of you that wants him to run after you, lace his slender fingers around your wrist and pull you flush against him. To kiss you fiercely and passionately and leave hungry kisses all over your body. You want, no – you need him to come after you and pepper your face with butterfly kisses and spin you around like Thor does. Nevertheless, he just stands there, looking desolately at the ground below.

Part 9: May

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