#steve wouldn’t actually physically say the last one. but it’s the message that matters okay lol

[thestobingirlie]

saint stephen pt. 5 <3

[baroquebucky]

tiny marshmallows

a/n: i got this idea from a book i read a long time ago and i remembered this scene last night and i had to write it with bucky! let me know what u guys think <3 requests for marvel characters are open !

masterlist

Bucky was a puzzling person to say the least. No matter how hard you tried, you could never figure out where his head was at. When you thought you knew him and had him all figured out he would do a full 180 and you’d be back at square one. You both talked quite frequently, you would consider the super soldier a friend, but you weren’t sure if he would say the same.

You slipped on your raincoat and headed out the door, upset that the whole compound forgot to buy a box of hot chocolate, despite you definitely texting steve to add it to the list. You ran towards your car, getting your shoes wet and the bottom of your jeans slightly damp as you ran through a puddle.

After a couple of minutes you arrived at the grocery store, heading straight for the box of hot chocolate packets. As you grabbed the box you smiled to yourself and snatched a bag of tiny marshmallows as well. After braving the storm once more and running back to your car, your teeth were chattering and your hair was dripping.

As you arrived back to the compound you decided to hide the box and the marshmallows until the perfect occasion came, but you couldn’t wait that long. So instead you made sure to schedule a movie night in a couple of hours. That would give you time to shower change and make everyone a cup of hot chocolate. You smiled and sent out the message, going to your room to kill some time and change.

As the time for movie night neared you headed down to the main area of the compound to make the hot chocolate, lining up all the mugs and getting them ready. You put the tiny marshmallows in all of them, stopping at Buckys.

Would he like them? I mean yeah he would who doesn’t. Right? He’s so tough and such a hardass, you’d only seen him smile once when sam almosy fell off the roof doing a dare- that is not tiny marshmallow personality. You decided against it and as everyone trickled down from their rooms you handed them a mug, smiling as they all gave you a thank you and hugged you.

Bucky was the last one to come down, he almost walked past you but you noticed the glint of his metal arm as he walked past the lights.

“oh bucky! Here i made everyone hot chocolate” you spoke softly, handing him the mug with puppies on it. He felt his heart swell with adoration as your cheeks grew pink when you realized the mug you had given him.

“I didn’t realize- i mean there were no other ones left, i can go switch it out im sorry” you rambled, attempting to take back the puppy mug.

“no don’t worry i love it” he spoke softly and you smiled, you heart skipping a beat as you soaked in how charming he looked.

“okay” you breathed out softly, walking away biting your bottom lip to keep you from smiling too hard. As you grabbed your own mug, you placed it on the coffee table, going to stand infront of the screen to tell the team what they were about to watch.

“okay we are about to watch the best Disney princess movie, any guesses?” You spoke up, pointing at Sam who looked confident.

“frozen” he smirked and you shook your head, warning a gasp from him. You pointed at Steve who looked at you quizzically “mulan?” you shook your head once again, earning protests from Wanda and Natasha.

“I said movie not princess” you smirked, causing the women to nod and look at you approvingly.

“No more guesses? Cmon guys!” You smiled widely at everyone, excited to subject everyone to your favorite princess movie.

“tangled” you heard bucky whisper. Your whole body lit up and you ran to hug him without thinking twice.

“yes! Tangled! Prepare to watch poetic cinema and fall in love with Flynn rider” you spoke, squealing as you hit play and sat between Steve and Wanda.

“you got marshmallows?” bucky whispered to Sam looking from him own mug to his friends mug. “Yeah you didn’t?” He asked, looking at Buckys mug and noticing the lack of the fluffy sugar bombs.

Bucky frowned slightly, was he not to level for your tiny marshmallows? He shook the thoughts away as he saw you mouthing the words to the scene, smiling when you caught bucky staring at you. Bucky turned bright red and he was very thankful it was dark.

As the lantern scene came on bucky couldn’t help but look at you as you watched in awe. A small smile playing your lips as the couple on the screen sang.

The words rang through Bucky’s ears, his heart beating fast as he realized his feelings for you. While the rest of the team was falling in love with Flynn Rider singing, Bucky fell in love with you softly singing along.

As the movie continued Bucky grew more and more nervous. What the hell was he gonna do? You were one of the few people that Bucky actually was friends with, and now he’s gonna mess it all up because he has feelings for you.

Bucky excused himself from the movie, slipping out with his now empty mug, heading towards his room. He stopped at the kitchen, putting his mug in the sink and closing his eyes for a second to set his mind straight. Did he really like you or was his mind just playing tricks on him?

Since the moment he got to the compound you were sweet to him, always offering to help him, trying to coax him to do more things and live in the moment. You were always there for him, but he was too scared to fully let you in. Yet, there you were always trying to get in, knocking at the door of his heart.

“Bucky? Are you okay? You walked out of the movie” you spoke up, scaring the super soldier slightly as he jumped at the sudden voice in the silence.

“what? oh yeah I’m okay, just tired is all” he gave you a tight smile and you furrowed your brows at him, coming closer the the tall man.

“no you aren’t, i saw you tearing up and then smiling, that’s not what you do when you’re tired” you looked at him, scanning his whole body to check if he was okay physically before finally settling your gaze on his face. You took in the light stubble on his chin and cheeks, the crinkles by his eyes and the now slightly long hair that had grown out since his last haircut.

“i just need to think about some stuff, by myself” he spoke, avoiding your gaze. You felt your heart sink a little. Bucky never skipped your movie nights. Even when he had a mission where he had to leave at 4 a.m. Bucky stayed up until 2:30 a.m. watching Marley & Me and sniffling besides you.

“oh- I’ll leave you then” you spoke softly, turning on your heel and walking back to where everyone else wat he’d the movie intently. Bucky let out a sigh as he searched high and low for the tiny marshmallows, maybe you had run out of them.

As he opened the furthest cabinet and bent over he saw the small bag of the sweet stuff, his heart sinking as he closed it and went to his room.

The weather grew warmer and warmer as time passed and you had yet to make more hot chocolate since the last movie night a week ago. You and bucky had talked since the last encounter, you had brushed it off and gone back to your cheery self towards him, he kept to himself a little more.

It was around 1 in the morning when you realized how badly you wanted some hot chocolate. You quietly and quickly got out of your bed, slipping on some fuzzy socks and going down to the kitchen area, grabbing your marshmallows where you kept them hidden and a pack of instant hot chocolate. As you heated the milk up and watched your show on your phone you heard someone coming down the steps.

You lifted your attention from the screen and paused it, waiting to see who was to join you this late at night. You saw the familiar pair of sweats and smiled internally. Instinctively going to fix your head and checking your reflection to see how you looked.

“why are you up this late?” You questioned the metal armed soldier and he gave you a small smile.

“couldn’t sleep” he responded, looking at the mug you had on the counter and taking note of the milk in the microwave. “making hot chocolate?” You smiled at him and nodded.

“want some?” You asked, already reaching for a mug and another pack of hot chocolate.

“yeah sure why not” he looked at you softly as you grabbed milk out of the fridge, taking out your now warmed milk and pouring it in his mug. You glanced at the tiny marshmallows and thought about putting them in, once again deciding he was too tough for that.

“is it- can i-” Bucky sputtered, his cheeks heating up and he took a deep breath in and exhaled. “can i have some marshmallows? I really love them in hot chocolate” he spoke, pink dusting his cheeks and his ears growing extremely hot.

You blushed and a wide smile spread across your face. “of course! sorry i just never added them because- uh yeah” you cut yourself off, not wanting him to get mad at you.

“why? you can tell me i can keep a secret” he smiled and winked at you as you added a handful and then some of marshmallows to his cup.

“i just- i thought since you’re so intimidating you wouldn’t like something like tiny marshmallows” you mumbled, looking at the floor and trying to avoid his gaze at you.

Buckys heart sank for a second before he felt his chest swell with love for you. He smiled softly at the way you were fiddling with a ring on your finger and how you shifted your weight onto one leg.

“you think I’m intimidating?” Bucky asked, a small smile still playing upon his lips. You looked at him and nodded your head, looking for any sign of sadness or negative emotions.

“I mean it’s not like you’re the easiest person to warm up to, one time i said hi to you and a second later i heard your metal arm whir- i thought you were gonna beat me up” you looked at him, your brows furrowed as he continued to smile at you.

“doll i would never hurt you” he spoke, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “between me and you, you’re my favorite person in the compound” he smiled at you and you blushed, a shy smile covering your face as you looked up and into his blue eyes.

“had i known the best assassin in the world was into tiny marshmallows i would’ve never taken him seriously” you joked, adding more marshmallows to his cup, an attempt to make up for the ones you hadn’t given him before.

As time passed you and bucky grew closer, sharing cups of hot chocolate, full to the brim with tiny marshmallows. The two of you sitting on the roof, your legs swinging off the side of the building while bucky held you tightly, making sure you didn’t fall.

Bucky liked you, so so so much. That’s why he was freezing his ass off on the roof, looking at the stars and the tree line behind the compound with you. That’s why he always made sure there was instant hot chocolate in the compound. That’s why he always made sure that before you walked into the training room he had his muscles flexed.

That’s why he put his mug down and looked at you, taking in a deep breath and trying to stop himself from backing out of this.

“y/n” he began, you turned to face him, smiling at him as he began to talk. “listen I’ve had a crush on you for so long, i didn’t know how deep i was in until that night that we watched tangled. I knew i liked you but it’s so much more than that, i wanna soend all my time with you, i wanna know the little things about you and i want you to know that about me” he paused, searching your face for any sign that he should stop. “I wanna make sure you know that i love tiny marshmallows, and i want to be disgustingly soft with you and-” you leaned in and kissed him, cutting him off.

He pulled back and smiled at you, looking into your eyes, confused but happy. He leaned back in, kissing your lips while his hand rested on the back of your neck. You both smiled into the kiss, laughing when you both pulled away with red faces.

“you were rambling. Figured I’d save you some time and just show you how i felt” you whispered, the two of you still close enough that he could hear you. He nodded and closed his eyes, screwing them shut while he grinned widely.

“does this mean you’ll be my girl?” he asked and you nodded.

“of course you fucking softie” you laughed, biting your bottom lip before throwing your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck.

[notyetneedcoffee]

No Secrets, Part 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

Sam stepped up to your front door carrying a tray with two lattes and a bag of pastries. ‘This is going to suck.’

“Morning sunshine.” You opened the door.

“Thought since you missed out on coffee yesterday, I’d bring you some this morning.” He held out the cups. “How’s your face?”

“Thanks.” You took a sip. “I’m fine. I’ve gotten worse sparring in the gym.”

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t scare the hell out of Bucky.’ Sam dug into the bag. “Cheese danish?”

“No thanks.” You pulled your bare feet under you. “So, Steve told you he ah...”

“Confessed his undying love?” Sam dropped on to the sofa next to you. “Yeah, but he hasn’t talked to Bucky. I don’t know why.”

“Peggy.” You provided. “Steve’s carrying around a sort of guilt. He gave his whole heart to Peggy and loving someone is like betraying that, somehow.”

“And Barnes is the only one around who knew her.” Sam was a lot more observant than people gave him credit for. “So is Steve afraid of being judged or he scared to admit that Bucky’s got it bad for you, too?”

You wondered that yourself. In fact, you’d sat up most of the night thinking about Steve and Bucky. This condition afforded you a great deal more information than you ever could have imagined. But with a man like Steve, or a man like Bucky for that matter, you were thankful.

Sam misunderstood your silence. “If it’s obvious to me, it’s got to be like flashing neon signs to you. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Sam sputtered. ‘Are you fucking kidding? That’s so wrong! They’ll kill each other.’

“Sam,” You put down your coffee and took his hand. “Damn, you are such a good friend. Answer something for me. Has Bucky ever come on to me? Ever overtly hit on me?”

“I mean, he’s joked. We all have. But, no, not his style.”

You nodded.  “I was given some sage advice when this happened. I was told to not judge people by what they thought, but by what they chose to do.”

“Alright, if you say so. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” Sam sat forward. ‘Just keep me clear of the blood bath.’

Steve Rogers couldn’t seem to rest on the flight home. Despite being physically tired, his mind wouldn’t settle down. He wanted to call ahead to say he was on his way home, but it was nearly three in the morning in New York. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and tackled some of the more mundane work of running the Avengers.  

He read through reports and approve paperwork for a couple hours when he opened the report requiring payout for a car accident. Multiple vehicles were damaged, minor injuries and the attorney recommended a reasonable settlement as the agent in question was completely at fault.  

His eyes locked on your name.  

His fingers tightened around the stylus. It took him a moment to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Flipping through the report, he found Sam’s write up. “...stated she sensed the thoughts of the driver behind her attacking his wife. This distracted her, causing the accident. Sergeant Barnes and I were off duty in the area and heard the accident. I recognized the car and we went to investigate. Considering her current condition, the situation was overwhelming to her and we felt it pertinent to remove her from the situation. She had no significant injuries from the accident. I left those impacted by the accident with the contact information for the Compound before leaving the scene.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to breath. You were alright. Sam and Buck were there and took care of you.  

Why the hell had you been driving in town?

Checking on the landing time, Steve approved the expense and read through everyone’s statements again. There was less than an hour left before landing. He wondered if it would be alright to wake you, if he called as soon as he made it to his quarters.

The message alert on his phone dinged.

‘Find me when you land, punk.’

After landing, Steve ventured into the common kitchen in search of Bucky. He found his pal slumped over a cup of coffee and the newspaper. "You save any of that for me, jerk."

Bucky pointed at the pot. “Sure did.” He sat back in his chair. “How’d it go?”

“As expected.” Steve poured himself a cup and sat across from Bucky. “Less eventful than your run for teriyaki.”

“I have no idea what the hell she was thinking.” Bucky huffed. “Said she just wanted to go through the coffee shop. I think she’s got cabin fever really bad. But Stevie, you should have seen how shaken she was.”

Steve took a sip of his black coffee, scowling. “How bad was she hurt?”

“Bruise above her left brow. Little bit of burn from the airbag.” Bucky got up and refilled his cup. “Jesus, when I came through that crowd and saw her slumped in the driver’s seat...” He blew out a strong breath. “It’s bad enough when we’re heading into a situation on alert, ready to fight. It’s something completely different when it’s a surprise like that.”

Steve stared as Bucky continued, leaning against the counter.

“I think I freaked out some of the locals. She said she wanted out and I ripped the door clean off the car. I’m glad Sam was thinking, ‘cause I just scooped her up and carried her to the truck. I wasn’t about to let her down or stop to deal with anyone else.”

He sat down, realizing for the first time the intensity of Steve’s stare. “What?”

Steve’s back went stiff. He frowned, before diverting his eyes back to his coffee. “Buck, do you love Y/N?”  

“What?” Bucky leaned back with a half laugh. “Of course.”

Steve stood so fast the chair hit the wall behind him. He was gone before Bucky could say anything.  

“What the fuck?” Bucky put down his coffee, righted Steve’s chair and followed his friend down the hall. The early morning made it easier to track him without asking for the AI’s help. He was headed for the roof, at least that’s what Bucky guessed.  

He stepped out into the early morning air to find Steve standing near the edge, shoulders slumped and a hand pressed into his chest like he used to do as a kid when he had an asthma attack. “Stevie?” Bucky walked up slowly, knowing he didn’t have to raise his voice. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath, but didn’t turn around. “Does she love you? Has she said that she loves you?”

“Steve.” Bucky came a little closer, but still left some distance. “Talk to me.”

“I told her I love her. Let her know how much, how hard...”  

“Oh.” Bucky felt his gut flip over. He knew the gravity of Steve’s confession, knew how hard it was for Steve to let himself love, really love, someone again.  

“And you just say ‘of course’ you love her, too.” Steve growled out. “Of all the people in world, Buck, why her?”

“Wait.”

“Of course, you two are always joking and laughing. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I’m so fucking stupid...”

“You sure are, punk.” Bucky actually smacked him on the back of the head.  

“Fuck off.” Steve’s arm swung out and clipped Bucky, but he caught Steve’s arm.

“Shut up and listen, will ya!”

Steve just glared.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about her.” Bucky growled back. “After Peg, well, I know how bad that hurt you.” He watched his best friend’s face crumble. He voice softened, “When did you tell her?”

“Before I left on this last mission.”

“In person?”

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded, considering. “So, she was aware of what you weren’t saying, too.”

“Yes.” Steve’s voice tightened.

“Wow.” Bucky dropped down on one of the iron benches. “What, ah, what’d she say?”

Steve’s hands buried deep into his pockets and he turned his back on his oldest friend. “I asked her not to say anything. We talked, and I told her anything she wanted to know, but I didn’t want her answer if it was a shock.”  

“You know she loves you.” Bucky said to his friend’s back.

Steve just barked a mirthless laugh. “Do I? Because my best pal loves her too. Maybe she loves you.”

“Stevie,” Bucky rubbed his forehead. “I would never stand in the way of you being happy, ever.”

“If I asked her now,” Steve frowned. “Would she be able to say she doesn’t know you want her too?”

“Fuck.” Bucky stood up and stalked over to Steve. “Honestly? No. If she’s been in my head, then she knows how beautiful I think she is, how much I want to take care of her, how good she feels. But damn, Steve, that’s in my head. Only. In. My. Head. She’s my friend, our friend. I’ve never behaved in any way that would cross that line. If she’s your girl, I never will.”

“You said you love her.” Steve’s desperately tried to hold on to his anger, but couldn’t.

“I do. I won’t apologize for it. She’s one of my few friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her, too.”

“So are most of the men who know her, hell, most the men who see her.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t ever use that argument with her, because you know full well women’s panties have been dropping for you since the forties. It doesn’t mean they love you or that you love them.” Steve’s ears went pink. “So, when did you figure out that she wiggled her way past that giant wall of yours?”

Steve ran his hands through his hair, frustration and jetlag leaving him exhausted. “A while ago. Scared the shit out of me. I should have talk to you about it.”

Bucky threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders, “Still can.”

“Won’t that be weird?”  

“My best pal is love with the best gal I know.” Bucky laughed. “That I can deal with. I know you’d rather die than break her heart. Now if you told me Sam was in love with her, I’d have to break his legs.”

TAGS:

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[helpinghanikan]

Steve Rogers A-Z

Steve rogers NSFW A-Z head cannons 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Just like anyone it takes a second for the world to come back to him. As you are different levels of stamina he’s usually the first to start moving. The first to get some water, setting a glass next to your head and the first ask how you were doing. Chuckling at whatever you say or sound you make.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On You; your thighs. Something he can use as a pillow when sitting or to gently squeeze without thinking. They’re the first thing he thinks to grab when the hugging becomes something more. No matter how many times he reaches past your backside, he’d never get tired of your sounds at being lifted.

On himself; Has to be his hair. Whether it be his beard or the short blonde on his head, there are few things greater than having your fingers through it. Whether from tugging or pulling to just a causal run through after a shower. Feeling your nails on his scalp was the closest to a primal romantic gesture that could be done in public.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Being from a time where Birth control was in another playing field, he’s more careful then others might be. Cumming outside of you, even with condoms or anal. The only exception being oral, where it was all fair game.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s those little bruises that decorate you randomly. Not exactly the hickeys (although they are in the category) but the faded marks on your arms and legs. He’s never directly pointed them out to you but watches them as you move. Even when covered with clothes he’s knows they are there. His own little secret he’d only share with you.

He’d never purposely mark you like that. But sometimes, more often than not, his strength gets away from him in the moment. Leaving almost hand prints on your hips, bite marks you’re your shoulders and breasts. Enjoying these marks was teetering into an area he had yet to explore. It was best to look into the abyss, but he wasn’t ready to jump in.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Definitely not the virgin the team mocks but isn’t the horn-dog the fans like to think. With a cautious hand you take the lead at first, smiling down at him until he gets that look. That I got this, look.

“How does it feel?” Has never been asked so much. No matter how many times, or ways he always asks some variation of the question. “Is this okay?” He asks, either waiting for a reply in your voice or the moan that comes with the movement.

F = Favorite Position 

Unless verbally stated you will always end up on your back. The build and build up putting his hands behind your knees. Pushing them up against your chest, blue eyes looking down as his strength holds you steady.

It’s a stretch on your body at first. Groans and moans coming more from the bending then from anything else. Settling you into a place where every bit of your feels pulled and knocked like an arrow. Feeling yourself being pulled and pulled until there’s a release.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

There’s humor only at the beginning, when he’s asking if it’s alright and you laugh at his manners. After it’s pretty straight forward, no laughing jokes and no real talking. He’s more of a silent force then one you joke around with.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps it tidy. Leaving enough hair but sticking to the grooming habits the war has taught him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

It’s a tender intimacy that controls the entire session. There’s no candles or roses (except for special occasion) but you can feel it, see it, in his actions. Kisses and touches start soft between compliments to butter you up. His forehead pressing against yours after that first, long, kiss.

After that it’s in his look. How he holds your gave and only shuts them away when he reaches his own brink.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It’s more of a boredom thing then an actual need. When on long missions alone, or just when you’re busy and there’s nothing on TV, what’s the harm in rubbing one out?

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

His voice is something that’s been with him for his entire life. Even as a little guy he had a voice that made people listen. At least, until they realized who was speaking. With his upgraded body it took it to another level.

The command kink was something that developed quickly. Starting when you asked, “What do you want me to do?”. A slightly tilted head, almost looking down at you, he now tells you to get on your knees.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Steve hasn’t had a home since that Brooklyn apartment way back when. He’s lived places, many places but the closest to having his own space was with you. Whether it be a shared apartment, hotel room or anywhere that has a lock and you in it.

 M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Either in the morning or at the end of the day. Where there’s no waiting messages, no emails or calls looking for attention. There’s nothing other than the two of you and a hard surface.

But, those moments are fragile. A ringing phone or the smallest charm can ruin the entire mood. Ensuring that, whoever was on the other end, was going to get the annoyed voice of either a captain or his woman.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Public. The farthest he would go with an audience was having you on his lap. And even then it was just for comfort, easier to keep a hand on those thighs, then for anything sexual. That you feel anything when sliding back into his lap is nothing more than accident.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He’d put a hand to your cheek when you’d start to slide down. Asking if you’d rather go first. Depending on your reaction he would take your place.

Old habits die hard, it would seem. Preferring to go down on you instead of receiving. It’s arguably where his real experience shines. With the use of his fingers all you hand do is grab the sheets or cover your mouth. These reactions making a smile come to his lips.  

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It takes control on his part to keep from hurting you. More than once he’s gotten too into it. Leaving actual hand prints on your hips, each of the fast thrusts was like your insides were being punched. The first time you’ve ever had to use the safe word.

Since then he always starts slow. Only speeding up when it feels right and even then it’s done with control. It’s only when your safety isn’t at risk that he lets himself go loose.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Sex, to Steve, was more of a reward then a simple physical reaction. That being said, when the opportunity shows itself, he has nothing against knocking one out. Easier to just go down on each other then penetration.  

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

After realizing his strength could be just as harmful as useful in a sexual situation he treads lightly. If anyone were to be tied up it would be him, if anyone was held down it’d be you (albeit gently) and the moment is likely to be ruined by needing a conversation before going any farther.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Pressing over your worn-out body he’d kiss the side of your face, then your neck. Non-verbally asking for ‘just one more round’. Groaning but nodding your head he takes your hips. Pulling them back and up into position.

As a man with never ending stamina it shouldn’t be surprising that he can last longer than most. In the same vein he can go more rounds then those same other people. The real question is, can you keep up?

I can tell you for free that the answer is no.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Any toys would be things bought of curiosity or something you have brought in. More than once you’d find him googling things. His eyebrows knit together in the same manner they were when planning.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Steve was never one for teasing in bed. The moment a “please,” comes from your lips he’s put under your spell. Determined to do everything that would satisfy your brief begging.

On the other hand everything about Steve begged to be taught patience. There are few greater privileges then seeing Captain America in a state of babbling. Eyes rolling back and begs for you to keep going.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Growing up in apartments and spending time in tents teaches one be quiet. Most noises come from deep within his throat; whether clenching his teeth or from biting down on you.

You’d have to coax the sounds out of him. Going back into the teasing that can only be relieved by his sounds coming out more than they could. The sound of your name being chanted and praised like a prayer is something the world should hear. But it was only for you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It’s a secret that he take to his grave, but Steve will do everything to avoid any accidental pregnancies The serum altered him, cured his diseases and made more than a healthy human could ever be. But he never asked whether it would change his genetics.

It’d be too much of a gamble to pass any of his cured ailments onto the next generation. As much as he would love to see a little him, a little you, he couldn’t do that. He’s not that selfish.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Make as many jokes about steroids as you want but this didn’t affect that area. At eight inches it’s not the focus of these sexual encounters.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s not something he’d focus on throughout the day. Instead focusing on seeing you again rather what would be done when he sees you.

It’s almost as if he remembers the possibilities after seeing you. Dropping little hints when your alone that he’s ready to go, only if you were, though. That his hand has been sliding up and up your thigh since getting home just happens to be a coincidence.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’ll be out of it long before he does. A few times you’ve managed your eyes open as he settled down beside you. His chest would slow, and his breathing would deepen, but he’d still be awake enough to rub his fingers over your skin.

Watching his face and a small smile would appear, only pretending to sleep but wanting to give you the validation.

[sestra-inestro]

The Carry On - (4/5)

Pairings: mob!Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, smut 18+, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of violence, typos because I didn’t edit this and wanted to get it out quick sticks before I start my next exam.

A/N: my beautiful people I’m back. I just wanna say thank you to all the lovely messages you’ve all sent I loved them and they helped me. I did see them and they lifted my heart. I know I didn’t reply, if I did it would’ve replied in my other blog and that’s a secret 🤫 but I do really appreciate them because you are the best 💛 also sorted things out with my family. Yeah, had my dose for ETERNITY. One exam down and two more to go.

It had been a peaceful and reviving six months. You had been able to fix your apartment up again and let in the light. After tearing Bucky a new one, you immediately jumped into rebuilding your life without him.

You went back to work at a new vet clinic. This time, one more in the rural area. The clinic was in the middle of a small town that was surrounded by farm land. You had allowed yourself to forget about Bucky for a while. You took your ring off and focused on all the new clients that came by the clinic.

The loveable sheep-dog, Samson that you had just groomed happily jumped up on your legs. The smile you wore crinkled your eyes as you smiled down at him.

“Awh, I’ll see you next week, buddy.” You bent down and petted his chest, the dog lifting his head up in response. “I’ll miss you.”

His owner, Maria, smiled down at the two of you. Since you began working here, Samson has become less scared of the vet.

You stood and tried to brush some of the dog hair off you pants. You smiled at Maria.

“See you next week?”

“He’ll be pulling me out the door this time.” Maria winked and walked to the door.

“Bye Samson.” You waved the the happy sheep-dog walking out the door, not taking notice to who was holding the door open for them and stepping into the clinic. Without a pet.

Your eyes wandered up the well built pant leg connected to a beautiful white pressed shirt with its chest buttons undone. A black coat gently lain over the top of the broad shoulders and down to the deep red rose that was held in his hand. He held the door open for Maria and smiled down at the dog when he sniffed the cuffs of his pants.

The unmistakable piercing blue eyes turned to look at softly. The blue had grown beautifully light. His face was cleanly shaved and his hair had grown out a bit, almost touching his shoulders. He looked soft, gentle and loving.

You were to mesmerised with his changes features to notice that he had come to stand in front of you and offered you the rose.

“Hey, June.” His voice was easy. Not the voice that had scared you months back.

“Bucky.” You breathed out. Your face had heated up at his smile. He had that effect on you still.

Bucky has started to feel awkward when you stood still staring at him with his hand extended offering you the rose. His eyes flickered back and forth between your face and the rose before you got the hint.

“Oh.” You stuttered.

You reached forward and took the rose by the stem, trying your best to not let your fingers touch his. “Thank you.” You look back up to his eyes and once again, your breath hitches in your throat.

He was the same handsome man that you had first met in your old clinic. You watch as his eyes scan over your body. You watch them stutter and soften at your face and they see the tiny healed scar on your cheek.

One you don’t forget he had given you.

“So,” You started. “You didn’t miss a day.”

“Not a chance.” Bucky shook his head and you watched as his hair moved with his head. You liked his hair longer.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask, raising a brow.

Bucky shifts in his spot. “I looked you up yesterday. I guessed you’d been working in a clinic somewhere.”

You nodded silently. You knew he would’ve gone to find you, you just didn’t think so early.

“I, uh...” Bucky started. “I wanted to ask you on a date.” He lowered his head and his eyes looked to you.

Your body tenses and Bucky notices. You open your mouth to respond but Bucky speaks quickly.

“Just dinner. Nothing more.” He reassures you.

It’s not that you’re scared you’d do it again. You’re afraid you might fall back into the same routine with him and you hate that possibility. You’ve felt so free these couple of months and you’d like to keep that freedom. But at the same time, you’re true to your word despite other people who aren’t.

“Fine.” You say.

Bucky’s face immediately picked up. You could see the hope spark in his eyes.

“Okay.” He breathed out. He couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his face. “Um, what time do you finish?”

“Six thirty.” You watch him check his watch.

“I’ll pick you up then?” He asked. He didn’t want to push any boundaries while he has a chance.

“Sure.” You push your lips to form a smile. But you can’t help the tinge in your chest as you see his smile before he turns to leave.

You look down at the beautiful rose in your hands. He used to give you bouquets, but you actually really liked the flower. You hoped to god that this wouldn’t end in a shit show.

~

6:30 came way too quickly. You mentally wanted the time to slow down, but with every minute that went passed, the more the anxiety grew in your chest.

Unfortunately, you had to end your shift some time. And as promised, he was there. Waiting for you just outside.

He spotted you as you walked through the clinic doors, a big smile on his face.

Your mind jumped for a second at his smile. You’ve never seen him look so innocent.

“I hope you don’t mind us taking my car?” He asked as he opened the door to the car.

You scrunched your lips into a smile. “No it’s fine.”

You stepped into the car and he closed your door, walking around and climbing into the drivers seat.

“I hope you don’t mind my having dinner in my uniform. It’s comfy.” You said, putting on your seatbelt.

“Of course not. It doesn’t matter what you wear.” Bucky gave you a bright smile before driving out of the clinic car park.

Your heart warmed at his response, allowing you to relax a little.

“Good.” You smiled back at him.

He drove to low-key restaurant with pasta and chicken (sorry vegans, I ain’t bout that life). After you guys ordered you sat and stared at him. The way he sat with himself was like he had less on his mind. He was living in the now and seemed clearer.

He gave you a closed mouth grin and rested his hands on the table.

“So...” The tension rose in the air. “How have you been there last few months?”

You took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve been working a fair bit. I’ve managed to get into a great clinic, been seeing a lot of horses and sheep dogs. My main clients.” You smiled at the thought of the animals. “It’s been a good few months.” You admit to him.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Bucky smiled at you.

It made him happy that you had overcome what happened and turned it around.

“What about you?” You asked. To be fair, you were scared to hear his answer. You didn’t want to know about the business anymore and you didn’t want to know about Steve or what had come of the rest of the house staff after what happened with Rita.

“I took a very big break.” He looked down at his hands. “I went to see a therapist. I’ve also been attending a support group.”

Your brows raised in surprise. “Really?” You didn’t think a support group would’ve been the best considering he’s one of the biggest crime lords in the country.

“It’s a very unofficial support group because it’s mainly criminals.” He chuckled lightly. “But it’s been much better than sitting with someone by myself. I’ve also been attending some kick boxing. Physical therapy release recommended by the therapist.” He finished. He was certainly proud of himself with the progress he’s made. And so were you.

He’d found a way to let out his paranoia and his stress that’s not onto other people.

“So you’ve been seeing a therapist.” You fought the soft smile that was threatening to grace your face.

“Yes. It’s all been helping with the PSTD and my ways around people I care about.” He fiddled with his hands.

You nodded and looked down. “Good. That’s good.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ve been doing my best to get better...” He paused. “For you.”

You swallowed and listened to him.

“I know what I did was bad, and I’ve been beating myself up about it. But I’m working hard to fix it.” Bucky’s chest filled with the same anxiety he felt six months ago when he received the divorce papers.

You watched as he into the little bag he brought but was interrupted when the food arrived.

You smiled up at the waitress as she placed your plate in front of you. She smiled back.

But your mood instantly fell when her smile turned into and smirk and she leant down further to place down Bucky’s plate, her eyelids heavy and her cleavage on display.

You frowned at her behaviour. Do girls really still have the nerve to catch a taken mans attention. It’s obvious you two are on a ‘date’.

But is he even taken? Do you still want to be married to him? Do you even love him?

You watch as his eyes widen and he looks down at the food.

“Is there anything else you’ll be needing tonight?” The waitress said in a sultry voice to Bucky.

“Um, no that will be all thank you.” Bucky mumbled and gave a tight smile.

The girl still gave him her best ‘fuck me’ eyes and you strained yourself to stay in you seat.

“Thank you.” You said loud and firmly, making the girl give you a hard look before sashaying away.

You glared at the back of her head before turning to your food.

“Now, now, babe. You know I only have eyes for you.” Bucky said, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Eat your food.” You told him before cutting into your food.

Bucky chuckled before getting to his food.

It was no lie that this new Bucky has some sort of effect of your feelings. His smile and the light of his eyes made your chest flutter. He was a completely different person than he was six months ago. In just this short amount of time, he had shown and told you just how much he had done to change. And it has worked.

He wasn’t forceful, he was careful, he was polite and respectful.

Your brain was hurting with how much your mind was turning and you couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore.

You were both almost finished eating when you spoke up.

“Bucky,” You said suddenly, bringing the silence to an end and causing Bucky to look up at you. “I can’t...not talk about it anymore. I need to talk about it, it’s driving me crazy.” You said quickly.

Bucky nodded and put his knife and fork down, swallowing his food. He knew exactly what you were talking about. And he would listen to anything you had to say.

You took a deep breath before continuing. “I know that you’ve changed for the best and that makes me so happy and proud. But I can’t forget what happened.” You took another deep breath, trying to push down the tears a little longer. “I can’t excuse what you did. To me and to Brunner.”

Bucky’s eyes cringed when you mentioned the dog. That had haunted him the most because he knew it would hurt you the most.

“That Bucky that killed that dog? I will never be able to forgive.” Bucky closed his eyes at your words. His heart was starting to break a little once again.

“I don’t want to be scared of my husband anymore.” You said with a shaky voice.

Bucky opened his eyes again, tears rimming his orbs and sadness filling them.

He slowly reached for your hand and you didn’t pull away. His giant hand encasing yours in a warm embrace.

“I am so sorry.” He said slowly and quietly. A hot tear rolling down his cheek. “I have never been more sorry for my actions in my entire life. I hate myself for what I did to you and Brunner.”

Both yours and his hearts took a slash at the name of the pup he bought you to love.

“What I did was unforgivable. I laid my hands on you in the worst way and I took his life.” Bucky slowly let go of your hand. “I know you will never put up with that stuff. And I will never expect you to.” Be wiped his face before continuing. “But I have tried so hard to change for you. And I will forever continue to.”

He reached in the bag again and brought out the same yellow envelope you had sent him months ago. He brought the divorce papers.

He gently placed the on the table between you two, watching you carefully as you observed the envelope. You would’ve thought he’d thrown it out.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t ever unintentionally hurt you ever again. Because...” He stammered over the words the say to you. “I don’t know what will happen.” He said truthfully. “But what I can promise you is that I will never lay my hands on you like that again. I will always do my best to be there for you and love you and support you. I will never intentionally bring you harm in any way. And I will always be by your side. No more doing things by yourself when we should be doing them together.” He reaches for your hand again and squeezed it. “I promise to love you for the rest of my life, and spend it all proving that to you that.”

You were so glad that you were a fair bit away from the counter where that dumb waitress was sitting, so she couldn’t see you cry.

Looking into his eyes you saw nothing but truth. He gave you your time and he did what you wanted and so much more. He changed for the better and he was owning up to it all. You knew he meant his promises, but you couldn’t help but be hesitant. Can you blame yourself? Horrible things had happened between you two, but the amount of good outweighed the bad. Some of the best times of your life had been with Bucky and you had never loved anyone the way you loved him. He’s telling you what he will do, but the only way he can prove it is if you give him the chance to do it.

“If anything,” You lifted your finger to him. “And I mean anything, like that happens ever again you will never see me again.”

Hope bursted through his chest as he took in your words and you could see his eyes lift up.

“I will leave your ass hard on the cold floor and never come back, do you understand me?” You told him sternly.

He sobbed in relief, a weight completely lifted off his chest as he rose from his chair on hot on his knees in front of yours. His hands gripped yours and he peppered kisses all over your knuckles.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your skin. “I love you so much.”

You tried to keep your stern face on but you couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t until he touched you that you realised just how much you missed his touch.

He looked up at you. Beautiful big blue eyes looking at you lovingly and you couldn’t help but melt. “Thank you.”

“Oh I’m not done yet. I just have a few things that I want, first.” You said, gripping his hands.

“Anything.” He said immediately.

“I want to keep working at the clinic. I love my job and I don’t want to give it up again and become a house wife.”

He nodded his head, still holding your fingers to his mouth. “Absolutely.”

“That also means not so much protection.” You pointed out. “You could trust me to be safe for six months. I’ll be okay.”

Bucky sighed but nodded. He knew you could handle your own, and Sam being around wouldn’t hurt. Plus you liked Sam.

“And one more thing.” You paused. Bucky heart dragged its way back into his chest and he waited for your call. “The things we are supposed to do together, I will not do alone anymore.” Your eyes looked down at him full of hope and love. “Because I can’t do this alone.”

Bucky shook his head and placed another kiss on your hands. “You will never have to ever again.” He promised you.

You wriggle one of your hands out of his grip and let your fingers grace his cheek. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes.

He’s craved your touch for so long and as he finally felt your finger tips and right now he was lapping it up and treasuring the moment.

He opened his eyes to see your beautiful ones, gazing right back at him.

“I love you.” He whispered to you.

A smile spread its way across your gorgeous face. “I love you.”

He smiled as the warmth finally spread through his chest.

“Should we start over? Go back to the first date?” Bucky suggests but you shake your head.

“Fuck going back, that times too much time and I’m ready now.” You said causing him to chuckle. “Let’s just pick up where we left off and carry on, but like this.”

“I’m happy with that.” Bucky smiled and nodded. “Should we get outta here?”

You sighed happily. “Yes, lets go.”

Bucky stood from his place and raised a hand to catch the waitresses attention. She came over with the check and you reached into your purse to pay for your food. But by the time you pulled out the money, Bucky had already given her the pay and she was walking away.

He smiled down at your frown. “My treat.” He leant forward and kissed your forehead.

You didn’t object to him, he was being sweet.

You stood and swiped the divorce envelope off the table and held it under your arm.

Bucky offers you his hand and before you take it, you drop it into the trash as you walk passed it.

You laced your fingers with his and kissed his cheek. He pushed the door open and held it for you. Heading down the steps of the entrance Bucky felt something in his pocket.

“Hold on a sec.” He pulled out what seemed to be a folded piece of paper.

Frowning he opened it and read the writing, his eyes going wide.

“What?” You frowned.

“Uh...” He stammered and offered you the paper.

Call me when you’re done with the bitch in the scrubs X

Followed by a phone number.

“That bitch.” You said and took a step towards the restaurant again but Bucky stopped you.

“Hey now.” He pulled you to face him with a smirk on his face. “She’s not worth it.”

My, how the roles have changed.

“You know you’re the only one I will ever want.” He leant in to give you a cheeky kiss but you pulled him against your lips hard and your hand travelled down to his ass and gave one of his butt cheeks a hard squeeze.

You pulled away and Bucky was dazed.

“Let’s go home so you can eat me out.” You said before pulling him to the car.

And that’s exactly what he did. As soon as you got into your apartment your clothes were off, his head between your legs that were thrown over his shoulders and your fists clenching the sheets as you moaned and called his name into the night.

His tongue happily lapped over your clit, causing your body to jerk and your hips to grind further into his face.

His hands caressed and massaged the skin of your thighs as he moaned into your core, sensing vibrations through your body. He wanted to give you his all.

“Baby.” You panted as waves of pleasure rolled over you. “I’m gonna come.”

He took his mouth away from your core and latched onto your thigh as his fingers found their way to your clit and rubbed furiously.

Your back arched and your legs trembled as the fast motion on your clit took you straight through your orgasm and into your high. You moaned out his name and came.

Bucky connected his mouth again to clean up your release and gave you a firm kiss on your clit.

“You’re so good, baby girl.” Bucky gave your pussy a gentle rub. You moaned at his touch.

He climbed up your body and left kisses on his way. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and he lined himself up with your swollen and sensitive entrance that was growing slick with arousal again.

You gripped onto his forearms and pulled his lips into a passionate kisses. You could taste yourself in his mouth and he brushed the baby hairs that stuck to your sweaty forehead out of your face.

“Love me.” You whispered into the kiss.

Bucky kept your lips connected as he pushed into you, your pussy taking him so well, wrapping around him like a vice.

You moan at the feeling of him inside you once again and how much you missed him.

He moaned into your mouth as he pulled out and thrusted back into you again.

He made love to your body for as long as he could that night before tiring you out, leaving your body buzzing with pleasure and your clit pulsing.

~

You come out of your little recharge nap to find the bed empty. You sit up and see you’re in the middle of the huge bed and the bathroom light is illuminating parts of the dark room. Focusing your eyes, you can see Bucky standing and facing the mirror, shirtless. You sat up and adjusted your view to see him better. He was just standing there in the mirror. Frowning, you pulled back the covers, slipped out of the bed and padded your way over to him.

Coming into the bathroom you finally saw his face, conflict on his face as he observed himself. Your eyes take to his back, seeing the lash scars across his back and the horribly puffed scar circling his shoulder.

Your mind floods with horrid imagined images he described of his time as a hostage with Hydra. The shit they did to him breaks a man, and he broke in his own way.

You lean forward and gently place both your hands on his arms, bringing yourself forward to kiss at the scars on his back and you feel him tense up at your touch. You close your eyes and pour as much love as you can into your kiss.

You instantly feel Bucky relax. You moved your arms to wrap around him behind and rest on his stomach. His fingers caress the skin of your hand.

“I regret the man I became.” His deep voice mumbled. You kiss his shoulder and let your eyes connect with his through the mirror. You can see the emotion swimming in his blue orbs.

“I was paranoid. I needed to control everything. I didn’t think before I made a move because my body instantly reacted.” He confessed. You could see he was close to tears so you held him a little tighter.

“I have a cursed mind and I’m clinging onto something so beautiful,” He continued. “and all I did was hurt that beautiful thing. The worst pain I’ve ever felt was the pain I brought on myself.”

Your eyes soften at his voice and you rest your head in the crook of his neck, still looking into his eyes through the mirror. He leans his head on yours and holds your hand in his.

“I will always be happy with you. But I’m afraid that I put you in danger.” He closes his eyes. “I don’t want to do that to you. I love you too much to do that again.”

You turn and kiss his head. Your heart was squeezing in your chest at his words.

“You’ve been getting help. That counts for something. You’re doing something about it.” You mumble against his skin. “I haven’t felt as safe with you as much as I did this evening, I can tell you’ve changed. And no matter how much I try to deny it I love you just as much.”

Bucky opens his eyes to look at yours again and you see the tears rimming his eyes.

You hold him to your body and fix your hands securely around his chest.

“You do so much and you don’t even know it.” He told you. “I appreciate you so much.”

“I love you.” You whispered to him.

“I love you.” He said and turned in your arms.

He gently took your lips with his and you could feel his emotions pour into the kiss. You returned the passion and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hand travelled around your waist making sure he can feel every inch of your skin. He squeezed down you sides and hooked under your thighs. You stepped up and wrapped your legs over his hips, his hands supporting your behind and cradling you in his arms. Your lips danced together in sync and your bodies pulled closer together.

His feet moved the both of you back to the bed and laid you back down. He was going to worship your body some more before falling asleep with you in his arms once again.

The Carry On taglist: crossed means not working

@amazonianbeauty @oceanmermaidwitch @kiwi-comics @veronawrites @oofiloveseb @jinaaaannnnn @bluerorjhan @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @some-random-stranger-007 @formulafun @chipilerendi @sasbb23 @slcvely @indigobl00d @harrison-shot-first @linkingdolans

[flowerfan2]

Context Is Everything - Ch. 2

Complete.  McDanno, A03, T, 5600 words

Summary: After Steve is injured during his walkabout, Danny shows up in Seattle and for a moment, it seems like the boys are going to get their fairy tale ending, complete with a magical kiss.  But nothing is ever quite that easy.  

Chapter 2

That night, Danny thinks about his conversation with Kono, about why she left the island.  He can’t sleep, tossing and turning on Kono’s uncomfortable futon couch.  It’s hard to reconcile Steve’s need to get away from Oahu with whatever is going on between the two of them.  What Steve did in the car, climbing in and planting himself in Danny’s lap, had given him some hope that Steve still wants them to be together, in some form or other. But Steve wanting momentary comfort and physical contact while he’s ill is a long way from an actual relationship.

Danny doesn’t just want to be Steve’s dependable best friend.  He’s more than happy to take care of him whenever he needs it, but he wants more than that.  He wants to finally be Steve’s <i>partner,</i> in every sense of the word.  He thought they were there, at long last, that they had turned the corner into what could be their new life together.  For a little while, despite everything, he had been so, so happy.

He knows Kono took a picture of the two of them, squeezed tightly together in Steve’s hospital bed.  She had shared it to the group text, and Danny had immediately saved it on his phone.  He wasn’t stupid enough to make it his lock screen, although he wanted to. He’s looked at it more times than he can count.

Danny doesn’t want that to be the last time he gets to curl up in bed with Steve, to feel his body up against his own, his breath against his cheek.  He thought Steve had been happy too.  He knows Steve’s smiles, and his soft, quiet laugh that’s just for him, and when Danny had acquiesced and climbed into that hospital bed, Danny was the recipient of those very special Steve smiles and the quiet laugh.  Steve wanted him there, Danny is certain of it.

 But then Steve pulled back.  It was as if it never happened.  Danny felt it like a physical blow, when Steve flinched away from him the next day.  He can’t say it was worse than when Steve left the island – that was like bleeding out slowly over the course of the week when it became clear that Steve was actually leaving, that he wasn’t just toying with the idea, that Danny getting kidnapped and shot wasn’t even going to change his mind.  He used to think he knew Steve better than anyone.  Maybe it hardly counts if Steve doesn’t know what he wants himself, but Danny wishes he would make up his mind.

 Scratch that – he doesn’t really want Steve to make up his mind too fast, not unless it’s to decide that he wants to be with Danny.  

 Danny’s confused, and sad, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

 Talking to Steve is the obvious solution, but he tried that today in the hospital, and Steve shut him down. After that kiss (one of Danny’s more risky moves, but at the time it seemed like a fantastic success) Danny had a whole day of thinking that things were finally, miraculously going to change between him and Steve, that they were actually going to act on this thing that had flickered between them for years.

 Then Steve had basically told him to back off, and it all came crashing down.

 To make matters more complicated, his team back at home is now constantly texting him on the recently re-named “Danny’s Kiss Is Magic” group text.  In response he has continued to pretend that everything is ok, ask for a bit of privacy, and give medically bland updates on Steve’s condition.  He doesn’t even want to change the name of the group text, as it might hint at trouble in paradise, and he wants so, so desperately for the trouble to go away.

 After tossing and turning for hours, Danny calls it quits and goes into the kitchen for a glass of water.  He lingers in the hallway afterwards. Kono’s house is small and cozy, and he can easily hear Steve doing his own tossing and turning in the guest room. Cursing his lack of self-control, he eases open the door and looks in.

 Steve is tugging at his blanket, which is apparently twisted around his legs in an entirely offensive fashion. He looks up as Danny opens the door, and then flops back on the bed, defeated.

 “That blanket giving you trouble?” Danny asks, unable to help the smile that tugs at his mouth.  No matter what else is going on between them, the urge to banter is irrepressible.

 “It’s possessed,” Steve says, his voice sleep rough.  “I don’t even like blankets.  But it’s too fucking cold here to sleep without it.”

 “Can I help?”  Danny asks.  He wouldn’t ordinarily hesitate, but nothing has been ordinary about the past few days.

 “Sure.”

 Danny helps straighten out the misbehaving blanket, tucking it around Steve’s body like he used to do with Charlie. Steve laughs softly, and then grabs at Danny’s wrist.

 Danny lets himself meet Steve’s eyes (eye, one eye, and he’s definitely not going to think about any possibility that the other one won’t heal up perfectly), and braces himself for whatever “it’s not you it’s me” platitude Steve’s about to utter.

 “Don’t give up on me,” Steve says, and Danny blinks in confusion.  “I know I’m fucking this up.  But I don’t mean to.  I don’t want to.”

 “What, um, what do you want?” Danny asks, his heart beating faster in his chest.

 Steve tugs on Danny’s wrist until he sits down, one knee up on the bed, facing Steve.

 “I want you.”

 Danny can’t really process this, but Steve doesn’t give him any time to question it, reaching out with a hand behind Danny’s head to pull him down for a long, certain kiss.

 “Oh,” Danny says, “wow.  Really?”  His head is spinning.

 Steve snorts.  “Yeah.”

 “Because, um, mixed messages much?”

 “Sorry?”  Steve pushes at Danny’s elbow where it’s propping Danny up, and Danny slides down on the bed, both of them facing each other.  He might have to talk to Steve at some point about using words instead of just shoving Danny around, but then again, it’s kind of hot, so, maybe not.

 “Honestly, Steve, you haven’t seemed particularly interested in this-” Danny waves his hand between them “lately.”

 “I know.  I’m sorry.  I can try to explain, but it won’t make any sense.”

 “At least that means you’re back to normal.”

 “Very funny.”  Steve’s expression turns serious.  “I do want this, us.  I just don’t know how to make it work.”

 Danny raises an eyebrow at Steve, and leans in to kiss him again, opening his mouth to tease at Steve’s lips with his tongue.  “Pretty sure we can figure it out,” he says, grinning against Steve’s face as Steve grabs at his arm to pull him closer.

 They make out for a few minutes, until it becomes clear that Steve is actually far too sleepy for anything more intense.  When Danny moves to get out of bed Steve just snuggles in closer, wrapping a heavy arm over Danny’s chest, and it makes something light up inside him.  That damn happiness again.

 “I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings,” Steve says softly.  Danny wants to protest that he’s not a kid and no one has to worry about hurting his feelings, but it’s actually exactly what he needed to hear.

 “It’s okay, Steve.”

 “’night, Danno.”

 “Good night.”  Danny shuffles the blanket until it’s covering them both completely, and closes his eyes.  He knows Steve still hasn’t really told him what’s going on.  Steve’s worry about making it work obviously wasn’t referring to the physical aspect of their relationship (although to be fair, Danny’s got some questions of his own where that is concerned).  But rolling along without discussing every little thing has gotten them this far.  Besides, he’s pretty sure that Steve doesn’t even know what’s bothering him.  It’s as he said to Steve – they’ll figure it out. They have to.

 ****

 The next morning Danny is up long before Steve.  He slips out of bed as quietly as he can, showers and dresses and makes a pot of coffee. Steve needs his rest.

 Kono had woken up even earlier, shooting Danny a text explaining that she would be back from work in time for dinner, so Danny has the kitchen to himself for a little while.

 It’s a peaceful place, Kono’s little house here in the great Northwest.  Danny’s never been to this area of the country before.  He had expected it to be raining every day, maybe overrun with hipsters drinking overpriced coffee.  While the coffee part had turned out to be true, the rain hasn’t been too bad.

 His meandering thoughts about the weather are interrupted by Steve walking stiffly into the kitchen.

 “Hey,” Danny says in greeting. “Sleep okay?”

 Steve smiles shyly, and Danny’s heart skips a beat.  God, he’s so smitten, even after all this time.

 “Yeah, thanks.”  Steve sits down stiffly at the little round table.  In the middle of the table is a wooden plate with a leafy pattern that reminds Danny of Hawaii.  Steve too, by the way he draws his fingertip over it, a contemplative expression on his face.

 “Want some coffee?”  Danny asks.

 “Sure.”

 Danny pours Steve a mug of coffee and sets it down in front of him, then refreshes his own cup and hoists himself up on the counter.  It feels familiar, sitting with Steve like this, drinking coffee while they each get ready to face the day.  Steve’s kitchen at home has felt awfully empty lately.

 They sit quietly for a little while, the silence more comfortable than it’s been for the past few days.  Danny takes a few minutes to gather his thoughts, and then decides he’d better give it a try before Steve gets to the bottom of his cup and heads off for a shower or an ill-advised run around the neighborhood or other such nonsense.  

 This isn’t only Steve’s problem, this difficulty they’re having in getting their act together.  Danny’s got to man up, too.  

 Danny sets his coffee cup down, and takes a breath.

 “It’s okay if you haven’t found what you’re looking for,” Danny says.  

 Steve looks up at him, surprised, and then back down at his coffee cup.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”  Steve asks, but Danny knows it’s mostly a placeholder, a meaningless phrase to give Steve more time to process the question.

 Danny slides off the counter and takes a step towards Steve, his hands twitching against his thighs as he keeps himself from reaching out.  “You left Oahu because you thought it would help,” Danny says quietly.  “Did it?”

 Steve shakes his head, shrugs, catches Danny’s gaze and then lets his eyes flicker away.  He’s a second away from dashing out of the room, although with the huge bruises on his side still healing it might be more like a panicked stagger.  “I don’t know.  Sometimes. Maybe.”  Guilt flashes behind Steve’s eyes, and Danny sees it for what it is this time.

 “I missed you,” Danny says, determinedly keeping his voice steady.  “A lot. A fuck of a lot.  But I’m not mad at you for going away.”

 Steve gets that little crease between his brows, and he tilts his head.  “You’re not?”

 “Nope.”  He looks directly at Steve, hoping he can see the truth in his eyes. It took Danny a while to get here, admittedly, but he’s sure now.  Steve hasn’t been feeling shame about being with Danny.  He’s been feeling guilty about them being apart.  Kono still feels it, even years later.

 If Steve and Danny are to have any hope at being together, Danny needs to let any lingering resentment go, and make sure Steve knows there’s no need for guilt.  Steve left because he felt like he needed to, not because he didn’t care about Danny.  He trusted that Danny would still be there for him, and Danny needs him to understand that what he did was okay.  That they’re still okay.

 “Good partners support each other,” Danny says.  “I’m all in, whatever you need to do.  Even if it means going back to Oahu by myself for now.  Drinking coffee with Junior and Eddie, instead of with you.”  He waves his hand at the two of them.  “I like this a hell of a lot better, though.”

 Steve licks his lips, rising from his chair and standing up straight, then taking a step towards Danny.  “Can I tell you something?”

 The air is suddenly charged, and Danny has to remind himself that he is actually supposed to answer.  “Sure.”

 “I like it better too.”  Steve swallows and grabs Danny’s wrist, holding tight.  “Danno, I think I’m ready to go home.”

 *****

 DW:  Chin, if the offer is still open, Steve and I would love to come visit.

 CK:  That’s great news!  

 DW:  I’ve never spent much time in San Fran, and Steve claims there’s an Italian restaurant that makes better lasagna than I do.  I need to prove him wrong.

 CK:  Whatever floats your boat.  I can take a few days off, show you the sights.  We could do some day trips, go to Muir Woods to see the redwoods, have lunch in Sausalito.

 DW:  Sounds great.

 CK:  Tell Steve I’ll make sure Sara gets her craft stuff out of the guest bedroom this time.  We’ll even wash the glitter off the sheets.

 DW:  We’re going to stay at a hotel.  But thanks for the offer.

 CK:  You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?

 DW:  Taking the fifth, thanks.

 CK:  Did Steve mention that the walls are so thin, he could hear Sara singing Taylor Swift all night long?

 DW:  No, he did not.  And if this is an attempt to continue making fun of my taste in music, I’ll have you know that her new album is fantastic.

 CK:  Nah, it was an attempt to pry into how things are going between you and Steve.  In a very subtle fashion.

 DW:  Chin, I’m surprised at you.  You’re usually the grown-up in these conversations.

 CK:  Just want the best for you, brah.  Both of you.

 DW:  Thanks.  We’re okay, actually.  I know I have an uncanny ability to screw things up, but this time I’m going to try not to be an idiot.

 CK:  You’re not an idiot.

 DW:  Well, time will tell.

 CK:  Have faith.  You’re the most important person in Steve’s life.  You have been for a long time.  I bet you’re both taking this seriously.

 DW:  It’s scary, but I think you’re right.  

 CK:  Honestly, Danny, you can do it.  You both can.

 DW:  Thanks, Chin.

 TR:  So, about this hotel room.  Will it have one bed or two?  I bet they ran out of double rooms.  Might have to put you in the honeymoon suite.  

 DW:  Tani, where the hell did you come from?

 TR:  It’s the group text, Danny.  It’s forever, I told you.  We’re never going away.

 <i>TR has changed the name of the group text to</i> <b>There Was Only One Bed</b>

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested. 

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown. 

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing. 

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection. 

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend. 

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.) 

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires  and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!! 

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

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched​ @b0n3l3ssm1lk​ 

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything​ for the shout out. You made my day<3)

[intothestarkerverse]

Paper Hearts

The Starker-Office AU the world needs.

Tony Stark is a paper salesman who hates his job but is secretly in love with the beautiful receptionist. A glimpse into their unorthodox courtship and happily ever after.

Tony Stark hated his job.

Selling paper was one of the most boring professions he could think of, and it had a very obvious expiration date that drew ever closer the more digitized the world became.  At best, he thought, he had another few years before he had to hit the unemployment line and look for another job he despised.  Nothing left to do but collect his paychecks until then, really.

His boss was an idiot.  

Scott Lang was no where near as funny as he thought he was.  His jokes caused Tony actual, physical pain.  The way the guy was a lapdog for Hope from corporate, that was even worse.  Didn’t help that for some reason Scott thought he and Tony were best friends.  The indignities he put up with for this job were not worth the pay check he took home.  Not.  At.  All.

The guy across from his desk was a killjoy.  You’d think Steve Rogers had some amazingly important job with how dedicated he was to it.  First one to arrive.  Last one to leave.  He was a puny little, sanctimonious nerd that Tony loved to play practical jokes on…which was really only one of two things that made the job bearable.  The second?  The second was Peter.

Peter fucking Parker.  

The receptionist.  

Light of his life.  

His reason for waking up in the morning.

The only damn reason he hadn’t left this fucking job in pursuit of something that didn’t make him contemplate using his letter opener to carve a giant hole into the middle of his chest.

Peter was young and beautiful and sweet and he sat directly in Tony’s line of view.  He caught himself staring at the kid way more often than he should.  He would day dream about running his fingers through those fluffy chestnut curls, tugging on the strands in the throes of passion.  He pictured what Peter’s lips would look like wrapped around more than just the straw of his water bottle.  He committed every centimeter of Peter’s face to his memory, knew every piece of clothing in the kid’s wardrobe…enough that he recognized when Peter had treated himself to a new sweater or pair of skinny jeans.  Tony stared because it was all he was allowed to do, and it was the only thing that got him through the day.  Peter caught him, too, but either the kid didn’t realize that Tony was head over heels in love with him…or he didn’t care.  

Tony really hoped it was the former, but it didn’t matter really because Peter had a fiance, Quentin Beck, some handsome asshole from the warehouse who had been promising Peter a ‘happily ever after’ that the kid had yet to realize was really a ‘never gonna happen’.  Quentin wasn’t ready to grow up, settle down, be a fucking man, and Tony had caught him flirting with people who weren’t Peter enough times to know he was a piece of shit.  Quentin Beck didn’t know what he had, but Tony did.  He hated that fucking guy, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

Someday.  Someday, Tony was going to sweep Peter off his feet, steal him away from the asshat and show the kid what a happily ever after should look like.

Someday.

If he ever worked up the nerve.

Until then…

***

Tony leaned against the reception desk, drumming his fingers on the Formica counter and waiting for Peter to finish his call.  Peter glanced up at him through a curtain of eyelashes, biting back a grin and holding a finger to his lips as he quickly scrawled a message on a notepad for Scott.

“Mhm, yeah, no, I’ll totally have him call you back…Yeah…Soon, for sure…Uh huh…Yep, I have here that it’s important so he’ll definitely get back to you…Yep…Cool, okay.  Bye.”  He placed the phone back in it’s cradle carefully and turned his attention to Tony, resting his head in one hand and blushing intensely under the other man’s gaze.  “That was corporate.  You could have gotten me into trouble.”

“I’d never get you into trouble, Pete.  I’d sooner die.”

“This job’s not worth dying over, Mr. Stark.”

“You might be…”

Peter choked out an embarrassed giggle.  “Stop it!  You’re the worst.  Did you just come over here to tease me or did you need help with the copier again?  For someone with half a degree in computers, you really suck with copiers, you know that?”

Tony shrugged, so what if that was one of his many excuses to spend a little time with Peter during the day.  He could hardly be faulted for that.  “Got you a present.  Wanted to make sure you got to enjoy it properly.”

“Oh yeah, what did you get me?”  Peter looked more than a little skeptical, and in all honesty, he probably had a right to be.

“Wait until Rogers gets back from his coffee break and then enjoy the show, Kid.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?”

Tony chuckled, stealing a piece of candy from the bowl Peter filled every week.  “I may have hacked his computer last night…sent him a very official looking email from the US Army inquiring about a very special kind of paper needed for a top secret mission and included a referral from one of his best clients.”

“You didn’t!”

“He’s always acting like his job is a matter of life and death, let’s give the geek a thrill, huh?”

“Mr. Stark, that’s so mean…”

“I could abort the mission if you really think…”

“I mean it would be a shame to waste all that hard work…”

***

“No.”

“Seriously, Steve, I haven’t even gotten to ask…”

“I know, but whatever it is you want, Tony, it can’t be good.  So, no.  My answer is no.”

Tony frowned, hanging his head in frustration for several seconds.  “I know you got Peter in the office Secret Santa thing…”

“How do you know that?  Did you just conveniently skip over the ‘secret’ part?”

Tony was trying really hard to be nice here.  Steve wasn’t making it easy.  “I asked everyone else.  Paid them.  Did them favors.  Tracked down the lucky bastard who was gifting Peter…and Fate hates me, so here we are.  Look, Rogers, I know we’re not friends…”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine.  Mine.  It’s clearly mine.  I accept the blame.  I do.  It’s just…I have something planned for Pete and I need to be his Secret Santa.  I will do literally anything.  Name your price.”

“I can’t be bought, Tony.  Peter has a fiance, or did you forget that?  Whatever you want from him, it can’t be good.”

Tony groaned, hitting his forehead against the top of his desk.  “I know Peter has a fiance, Rogers.  Believe me, no one is more aware of Quentin’s existence than I am.  The guy’s a jerk…a bigger jerk than me, and that’s really saying something.  You know it’s true.  He’s a piece of shit and Peter deserves better.  The guy is going to give him some generic piece of crap for Christmas, no thought at all.  You know it.  Peter’s a good kid.  He deserves…he deserves a lot more than that shithole.  Let me give him something nice.  I’m not going to break up his relationship.  I’m not going to lead him down the path of temptation.  I just want to give him something nice and make him smile without him feeling like he needs to do something for me, okay?  Rogers…I’m begging you.”

Steve stared at him for several long minutes before he sighed and nodded.  “Fine.  Yeah.  Okay.”

“Bless you, Steve Rogers.  Consider this our armistice.  War over.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

***

Tony had never wanted to hug anyone as badly as he wanted to hug Peter in that moment.

The kid looked defeated.

He was seated at a little card table towards the back of the comic book shop with several stacks of his own self-published comic in little piles all around him.  

No one was stopping to look at them.  To talk to him.  To acknowledge his existence at all.

His eyes were glassy.  The kid was literally minutes away from crying and he just couldn’t let that happen.

“Just your luck that you’d have your debut on a rainy day, Parker.”

Peter jumped, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and putting on a brave face as he looked up at Tony with a paradoxical mixture of relief and fear.  “Tony!  You…you came.”

“Course I came.  Wouldn’t miss this for the world.  But seriously, you know rainy days are terrible for business, right?  It’s a proven fact.  Why…I’ve never seen so few people in here before.  Gotta be the weather.”

“Yeah…no, yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”  Peter looked like he didn’t quite believe Tony, but he was also apparently eager for an excuse to explain his lackluster turn out.  Had anyone else from the office even come?  Ass holes.  All of them.  And where the fuck was Quentin?

“So, let’s see…”  Tony reached out for one of the books, carefully flipping through the pages and perusing the content with a little humming noise.  “Hey, now, do you take inspiration from people you know?”

Peter was blushing.  “Maybe…”

“No maybe about it, Peter, you cannot tell me this handsome bastard isn’t based off me.”  He flipped the book around, tapping at an image of a roguishly handsome superhero in crimson and gold armor.  “You know I’m a raging narcissist, right?  I was going to buy a book anyway, but now I have to buy the whole series cause I’m one of the stars.  You in here, too?”

Peter nodded slowly, his blush darkening.  “Yeah…but I won’t tell you who.  You’ll have to figure that out…”

“I do love a challenge.”  Tony closed the book and reached out to add one from every pile to the one in his hands.  “So, how much?”

“Um…they’re ten a piece but…”

“But obviously that’s much too low so I’ll give you a hundred for the set of five.”

“Tony, no…”

“Fine.  A hundred and fifty it is.  You’re a tough negotiator, Pete.”

“Tony!”  The smile on Peter’s face was worth every fucking penny.  And who needed to eat, anyway?

***

“Mr. Stark!  You promised that the goatee was not because of my comics.”

Peter was standing at his desk with both hands over his mouth.  His face was as brilliantly red as the home made Halloween costume Tony had donned for work that day…the costume he had based entirely off of Peter’s comic and the character he just knew was based on him.  Had to be.  And dammit, if he was right…if he was right, than Peter had even made himself Tony’s fucking love interest…and wasn’t that just the most interesting thing he’d ever read in his whole damn life?

“So, I lied.  It’s not my fault. You’re such a damn good artist that I took one look at my comic book self with that awesome facial hair and said, ‘Fuck, Tony, why did you never realize that you’d be even more devastatingly attractive if you just had an impeccably groomed goatee?’  The world has you to thank for it, Pete, and I’m definitely keeping it because it’s been a hit.”

Peter’s hands dropped from his face to his sides.  He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking pensive.  “Who…I didn’t know you were dating anybody Mr. Stark.  I’m glad…they like it.  I guess…”

Tony didn’t bother to correct him.  Not yet.  A little jealousy might do the kid some good, let him know how much Tony wanted to choke the fucking life out of Quentin every time that piece of shit showed his face.

***

Peter was wearing a new soft blue sweater over a button down shirt and Tony was trying very hard not to swoon over how fucking adorable he looked.  He was playing with his gum, winding it around his finger before popping it into his mouth to begin again.  He had his phone concealed in his lap so no one could see him playing on social media while he was supposed to be working.  That was probably why he didn’t hear Tony approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, leaning against the reception desk and looking at Peter with what Tony recognized was something very close to the heart-eye emoji.  God, this kid.  

He really couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to make a move.

Be brave.

Be bold.

Be the fucking hero in that kid’s comic.

“What are you doing tonight, Pete?”

Peter jumped a little, looking up at Tony with a little flush of surprise.  “Tonight?  I don’t know.  Quentin’s got poker at Drax’s, so probably just going to lay in bed and catch up on Netflix.  Why?”

Tony smirked, dropping something on the desk in front of him.

“Oh my god, how did you get this?  It’s not even supposed to be released for another two weeks…”  Peter’s excitement was quelled by the sudden realization, “Is this a bootleg?”

Tony nodded.  He was never going to admit to how much he’d spent for a bootleg copy of something he cared absolutely nothing about because in the end…it was going to be completely worth it.  “Come over to my place tonight.  We can break the law together.”

“You think if the FBI raids your place while we’re in the middle of it that we could at least be cellmates, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I’ll protect you in the prison yard.  No one would dare put a hand on you.”

“I’ve always thought you’d make a great prison husband.”  The witty banter ground to a halt with Peter’s last quip, his light brown eyes flaring wide.  His mouth had runaway without his better judgment, but Tony wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.

“Oh, I’d make a great husband, prison or not.”  Tony held Peter’s gaze for a second longer than was probably comfortable for both of them, the kid’s face was red as a cherry tomato when they were interrupted by the sound of an exasperated sigh from behind them.

“Tony…could you just grow up already?  Some of us are actually trying to work…”

Peter giggled into his hand, leaning to the side to look around Tony at Steve Rogers’ desk.  “I thought you and Mr. Rogers had finally ended the Civil War, what did you do this time?”  He was careful to keep his tone soft enough that it didn’t carry.

“Hm?”  Tony was still distracted by thoughts of Peter as his prison wife, but managed to pull himself out of it to look back over his shoulder and shrug.  “I super glued everything to his desk last night.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Peter was under his desk now, hugging his sides and laughing himself breathless.  

***

It was far from the first time he and Peter had spent time together outside of work.  They were friendly, in fact.  Quentin didn’t share any of Peter’s interests, and that left plenty of things for Tony to exploit.  Movies Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead seeing.  Video game releases.  Comic conventions.  Hell, Tony had even gone to a few games of D&D with Peter because he would take literally any excuse to spend time with that kid.

Now, they were cuddled up on Tony’s couch in his apartment with enough snack food to weather the apocalypse and a bootleg that Peter was dying to see.  Though, for something Peter was dying to see, he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about watching it as he had earlier that day.

“Pete?  You okay?  Something happen after work?”  He’d been fine when they’d said their goodbyes that day.

Peter ran a hand through his curls and let out a long, shaky breath.  “I think Quentin might be cheating on me.  I don’t have proof but…Drax didn’t know anything about a poker game tonight and it’s just, it’s little things, you know?  I found this little church I really liked for the wedding and I mentioned it to him, that we could maybe set a date…but he brushed me off.  MJ…you know from customer service?  She says I’m an idiot, that he’s never going to marry me and now I’m afraid she’s right…do think she’s right, Tony?”

Tony reached out, drawing the younger man close and inhaling the scent of his shampoo as he tucked Peter against his chest.  “You’re not an idiot, Peter.  You’re way better than that piece of shit in the warehouse deserves.  You’re beautiful and smart and funny and talented, and if you were mine…we’d have fucking eloped the second you said you’d marry me.”

Peter pulled back with a watery smile, “Yeah?”

“Mhm.  They increased the limit on my credit card last month.  Enough for two tickets to Vegas, a week long stay in a crappy casino and a quickie wedding chapel.  I’d lock that shit down before you had a second to realize that you could do better than me, too.”

“Better than you?”  Peter sounded as if that idea was more insane than eloping to Vegas minutes after a marriage proposal.  “Tony, there isn’t anyone better than you.”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be with that piece of shit, Quentin Beck.”

Now, Peter just looked confused.  “In what universe did I ever have a choice between you and Quentin?”

“This one.”

Peter’s head slowly canted to one side, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing.  “No…”

“Oh yes, Pete.”  Never in his wildest dreams had ever thought that Peter thought Tony was out of his league.  Was the kid blind?  Did he not own a mirror?  Did he not know how brilliant and funny and talented…  “Oh yes..”  Those last two words were repeated a hair’s breadth from Peter’s lips as Tony leaned forward to bridge the distance between them.

It was everything Tony had ever thought it would be and so much more.  Peter’s lips were soft, his whimpers were music to Tony’s ears.  Tony let himself bury his fingers in those chestnut curls and inhale the scent of him, revel in the taste of him, live in that moment as if it was the only one he was ever going to get.

The kiss went on until neither one of them could breath, until they were forced to pull back with heaving chests and swollen lips.  Peter stared at Tony for several seconds before he threw off the blanket and walked out of the room.

What.

What the fuck.

Tony was dumbfounded.  Was Peter not into it?  Had he just been shot down?  Was Peter not even going to talk to him…

No.

No.

Peter was back.

With his laptop?

Tony frowned, watching as Peter dropped the computer in his lap followed by something small and golden.  Glancing up, Tony caught sight of Peter’s now empty ring finger.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Stark.”

Tony stared. “What…”

“Two tickets.  Vegas.  ASAP.”

“Wait…”  He couldn’t be serious.

“No, you said you wouldn’t make me wait.  I already Snapped Quentin.  We’re broken up.  I’m single…but I don’t want to be.  So buy me those tickets to Vegas and a ring…when we get there.”

Tony slowly opened the laptop, stealing glances at Peter ever few seconds as he booted it and pulled up a travel site.  “You’re not…this isn’t a joke, right?”

“Not a joke.  You’re not the only one who’s been pining, Tony Stark.  Why do you think Quentin hated you so much?  He knew I was super into you…hell, Tony, I made you my lover in my comics…You’ve been my unattainable crush since I started my job.  You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Most supportive.  We have fun together.  We have a lot in common.  We just…”

“Yeah.”  Tony was smiling now, not even second guessing himself as he typed in his credit card numbers.  “I don’t know if we can get a week off work…”

“Four day weekend is good enough for now.  I’ll call Mr. Lang and let him know we won’t be in.  I’ll have to tell him why…”

“God help us.”

***

Four days later when Tony and Peter returned to work in the same car, they arrived to find an impromptu wedding shower waiting for them.  Quentin had quit.  Left all of Peter’s stuff in the warehouse in a pile in the middle of one of the docking bays. But whatever, the less they had to see of that prick the better.  Scott seemed happier about their elopement than they were, and he’d gone to great lengths to print up t-shirts proclaiming that everyone in the office ‘shipped Starker’.  Even Rogers was wearing one.

Tony pretended to hate it.

Really he fucking loved it.  

Maybe his job wasn’t the absolute worst after all…

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{1}

Title: Going Through Motions {1}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot

Word Count: 1.9K

  Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

  Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosley Proofread/edited**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean?”

  “What’s not to understand? The Avengers are being put back together,” Tony exclaimed with a clap of his hands. Korral stood there gaping at him convinced he’d lost his mind. The Avengers had been broken up for the last near seven years. They were all sprawled out across the world doing god knows what. The CIA, FBI, SHIELD and every government entity had an order that if any of them were seen they were to be immediately apprehended if safe to do so and if they put up a fight they were to shoot to kill. That was the order for all except Steve; he was shoot to kill on sight.

   “Tony, I don’t understand.” He continued to walk, not caring that you’d stopped in the hall trying to make sense of his words. You scurried to catch up and made it just in time before the elevator doors closed. You pressed your back to the glass wall and took a deep breath.

   “Explain it to me, please.” Tony took a deep breath and paused his tapping into the tablet he held.

  “Right now, we are going down to the conference room that I hate the most to sit with the powers that be who think they’re in charge of the world’s defenses--,” he said normally before his voice dropped to a less than discreet whisper. “They’re really not,” he finished before pointing a self-gratifying finger to himself. Shaking your head, you stifled a scoff; this was nothing new, this was Tony. You didn’t mind, after working with him for the last ten years you’d gotten to know him pretty well.

   “What are we meeting with them for? I thought we hated them after the fallout.” Tony nodded and continued tapping into the tablet.

 “Oh, we do still hate them, but keep your enemies closer, remember.” You nodded because it was rule number two around here. “So. we’re going to meet them so they can officially gloss over their shortcomings in the last year to generously drop the charges against our friends,” he explained. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor, and Tony walked off, you remained still trying to catch up. You felt like you were in an alternate universe. “When did all this happen?” Again, you looked beside you and Tony wasn’t there, he was halfway across the lobby. You ran to him.

   “Last night,” he said before he stopped and looked at you. “Are you okay?” He had to be kidding. You currently had whiplash. You had no idea any of this was in the works. “Korral!” Tony shouted your name and snapped his fingers before your face. You focused on him. “Yes, I’m fine.” He studied you, and you wondered if he was using his high-tech glasses to scan you. “I’m fine. I just needed a minute to catch up. What do you need from me?” Tony started walking again, and it was then you saw the obscene amount of security agents standing around.

   “I’ve sent it to your tablet. I also want you to tally how many times one or more of them says this phrase sequence “our decision.” I’m placing my bet now that it’ll be more than twenty. What’s yours?” As you looked around you and accessed those around you, you tried to get control over your nervousness. If this order actually went through it meant a lot. It meant a hell of a lot. Shaking your head, you straightened your back and pasted a calm, detached expression to your face. “Twenty is lowballing it, go big or go home, I call every other sentence.” Tony smiled and nodded. “I like the way you think Evans.”

   The two of you walked toward the conference room, three secret agents stopped you and scanned your bodies with a wand no doubt checking for weapons. They were right to check. The wand beeped ferociously at Tony’s chest, and he gave them a “are you serious” look before they allowed him through the conference doors. When it was your turn, they looked over you but didn’t scan. They just nodded their head to let you through. They clearly didn’t think you were a threat. When you walked into the room there were seven powerful-looking men and dozens of others standing around. You quickly surveyed the room and made a note of everyone. Most were familiar faces, but there were a few that were all new to you.

   As you and Tony took your seats you scanned the file Tony sent you and smiled at the top disclaimer. “Don’t trust any of them, especially the one with the brown suit and purple tie, who wears purple and brown?” Pinching your lips, you tried to keep a professional exterior. The Secretary of State began his spiel; he looked less than happy to be saying the words. No doubt he hated to admit that the world needed the Avengers. Since their disbandment and the kill orders, chaos was everywhere, and threats came from left and right. They were stretched thin and quickly came to regret their decisions, but like the government, they also hated to admit their wrongdoings and make a change. That meant they would have to be right here in front of Tony and Tony was a less than gracious winner.

   Just as expected, every sentence showcased that they had come to this decision with no outside influence. Every time he said it Tony sent a message to you keeping tally of it. By the time the Secretary of State finished, it had easily been thirty minutes.  “So, let me get this right; you’re here with your tail between your legs admitting that you made a mistake, a very horrible mistake and now it’s your decision to rectify it? is that right?” You smirked and pinched your lips again. Of course Secretary of State Ross didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded his head to one of the many heads in the room. From the back, a young woman gathered a few folders and placed them in front of all who sat at the conference table. You opened the folder and saw images of the people you’d worked with for years and who you hadn’t physically seen in too long.

   “Glad to see you’re still the same Stark.” Tony looked in the folder. “I don’t know who you want me to turn into Ross; I can only be me.” You slowly flipped through the images, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha and him. You stopped at his picture and almost audibly gasped, you didn’t expect he would be part of this deal. You thought it would be just the others. Your heart began pounding rapidly, and you slowly went over every detail of his face, every minuscule wrinkle, each bushy eyebrow, his defined nose, and equally defined jaw and his lips. Lips you’d surprisingly fell in love with. He was gorgeous. It had been seven years since you’d seen him, there was no indicating he looked this way anymore. He could have aged, wrinkled, something.

   “Do you want this to happen or not?” You brought your attention back to him those in the room and glanced at Tony who took a deep breath. “Continue.” Secretary Ross went over the details of the deal which primarily spoke of each of them having to remain on the straight and narrow and follow the rules that had been in place before everything went to shit. You knew they wouldn’t support the accords, that was never going to happen. A message came in from Tony, and he knew it too, but with Tony, he knew how to keep his hand hidden to make it seem he was playing ball. “You’re responsible Stark. This will blow back on you if this goes south—again,” Secretary Ross finished.

   Tony held up two of his fingers; “On my honor as a boy scout Ross. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He did the actual action for emphasis. “We’ll see. Let’s get this over with.” Tony took out his pen and signed his name then slid the folder to the center of the table. Across the table, Secretary Ross did the same, but unlike Tony, he didn’t look so confident, it was as if he expected this to go bad. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect. Another ten minutes passed, and the meeting finished. You excused yourself to the ladies’ room and stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long trying to get a grasp on everything that had just happened.

   When you walked into Tony’s office thirty minutes later, he stood and waved you over. You hurried to his desk and listened to the tail end of his conversation. “It’s only a matter of time now. I expect the announcement tonight or tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.” He turned to you and smiled. “Ready for things to get a lot louder around here?” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious. You nodded and did your best to smile. “Tony, does this include—him?” As if for the first time realizing your struggle Tony’s expression softened. “Steve. Uh, yeah. His terms are slightly different though; because of his role in breaking the others out and aiding and abetting Bucky they think his morals are compromised.” You nodded. You weren’t surprised by his actions once you’d learned of them. You and Steve had several long conversations where he told you all about his friendship with Bucky and his regrets over the years. Steve was as loyal as they came. That was one of the traits that solidified the decision to make him Captain America back in the day. He was goodness.

   “So, what are his terms?” Tony took a bottle of water out the mini-fridge and drank from it. “Well, they definitely want him to sign the accords and sort of agree to be surveilled,” he rushed out. You snorted. “That’s not happening Tony.” He nodded. “Oh, I know, but they don’t know that.”

   You were used to the ride the slope of right and wrong with Tony. “Why would you go out on a limb knowing he wouldn’t agree, especially after everything that happened between you?” Tony sighed and looked out over the setting sun of the New York skyline. “Seven years is a long time Korral. I’ve had a lot of time to think and see things differently and from other perspectives. You can thank Pepper for that.” You smiled; Pepper did make him more human. It was sweet. “I understand. Plus, he’s Captain America, he’s Earth’s best defender.” You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Tony nodded his head and walked away. “Laugh it up. I know you’re laughing to hide the fact that you’re freaking out about this especially given the nature of your relationship back then and the state of your relationship with Marc currently.”

  Yeah, he called you out—extra loud. “Wow.” Tony smiled again and sat behind his desk. “If those are the terms, he won’t come back Tony. There is no way in hell he would come back on the grid to be controlled. You know Steve.” He sat there studying you. “Is it that you truly believe he won’t come back or you’re afraid he will?” You shook your head, rolled your eyes and looked out the window. “He won’t come back,” you finalized before you turned and walked to the door. “Good night.” There would be nothing in the world that would drag him back into the light especially to give up his freedom.

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

[bowieandqueen11]

Upside Down / Mike Wheeler Angst

Request: One with Mike Wheeler and the reader has no idea about all the stuff to do with like Hawkins Lab and the upside down and stuff and the reader tries to find out about what happens but Mike gets sick of it so he tells them to leave him alone and the reader takes it the wrong way and just angst really. I need an imagine to match how I’m feeling atm T-T. If not it’s all g :) 

Thank you my love @disneyfan567 I’m sorry if this is terrible because you deserve the best XD <3

Hawkins was just that sort of town. The sort of place where nobody really pays any heed, but there’s a certain darkness that lurks behind every arcade and every shopping mall. A kind of chill that makes the adults pull down the rims of their hats and hurry on by, shooing their children off to amuse themselves in fear of being caught. The town had been built on a grid, and no expense was spared. The roads were perfect grit spitting rivers of tarmac that traffic lights blinked along to allow the schoolchildren to pass safely. The air was muggy and foggy and yet seemed crisp to those who drank it in. On occasion a deer would gallop through the streets or a bird fall on the tall black lampposts, but the canyon made sure that nothing but cold air tugged on the hearts of the residents living there.

You weren’t stupid, that’s for sure. You had known as soon as Will ‘Zombie Boy’ Byers had returned home, that all your friends had begun acting suspiciously. You barely see him anymore, his mum dragging him home whenever you greet him entering the school doors, or her telling you he’s still so very ill, okay sweetheart, when you go knocking on their door with all the physics homework he had missed that day. Dustin and Lucas weren’t much better. You had tried to drag their secrets out of them, managing even to rustle Steve into the mix in the arcade. Thumping your hand down on the dusty Dragon’s Lair machine, knocking Dustin’s hand off the control stick, as red as a cherry, he shouts a loud ‘hey, y/n, jesus, what the actual f-’

‘Dustin!’, Steve coughs from behind him, two hands placed sternly against the light blue cotton covering his hips, slouching down onto his left foot. His eyes are wide and disapproving as he looks down at him. ‘Y/n here has left me sixteen messages, ten of which were missed calls because apparently neither of you two, idiots, would answer her. I had to driver her all the way here, and let me tell you, her mother was not happy with me.’

‘What is it, y/n, we’re busy’, Lucas sighs, twisting around again to place another quarter into the game.

‘I know something fishy is going on with you guys, and it’s not fair for you to keep me out of it. I have as much a right to know as any of you guys!’

The three boys throw each other concerned glances, Steve making as if to move forward, his pointer finger out, mouth slightly agape, but the words only stick in his throat as he blinks, curls falling over his forehead.

‘It’s..it’s not safe, y/n,’ Dustin finally says, much to your dismay. Groaning lightly, you turn on your heel and run out the door, tears welling up in your eyes.

And then there was Mike, your best friend, who hadn’t spoken to you in nearly a week. Anytime you saw him, his eyes were blotchy and red as if he’d spent all night lying on his bed crying, his eyes cast down onto the ground without meeting anyone’s gaze, his backpack nearly falling off his slumped shoulders, not even noticing the little Star Wars keychain you had bought him for his birthday digging into his skin. Anytime you went near him, he had brushed you off, throwing your hand off his shoulder, not answering your walkie talkie during the night, pretending he was over at Mike’s when you had clearly seen him cycle into the woods whilst waiting for him behind the bushes on his front lawn. It was as if he had become a ghost.

That’s why you found yourself outside Hawkin’s Highschool late that night, determined to find out what in these haunted woods had everyone so frightened.The sky is a rolling blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash, and the ground its dank reflection, each trembling step a prayer for some kind of answer, some kind of key to unlock this secret the whole town seemed to be conspiring to keep from you. The lights flickered as you stepped past the last few overhead lampposts like flickering daydreams, dying underneath the blanket of night. The chill wind tugged at your clothing and whipped loose hair about your face, bringing with it the first of the rain that had been promised since supper. The newly wet skin offered body heat to the frigid air, only to find its appetite was insatiable. 

The hills that lie friendly in the day - like the pillows of the land - are darkly ominous by night. The paths that were illuminated just hours before become lost in a blackness that even moonlight cannot help. The trees that are magnificent in sunshine tower over you as you step across the borderline between the seen and unseen. Steeling yourself to keep moving past the growls that seem to encircle you, your hair stands on end as if the forest was on the enemy’s side. 

Yelping lightly, you tumble to the ground, your flashlight rolling out of your hand and tumbling across the dirt, spinning lightly as it illuminates in pale flashes of light the nearly translucent face of Mike Wheeler as he turns around in confusion, wondering what had managed to trip over the tire of his bike that lay abandoned in a nearby ditch.

‘M-mike’, you manage to mutter out, your teeth clenched as a ripple of pain ruffles through you. Looking down, you can’t see, but can feel the stickiness between your fingertips as you move it away from the tear in your jeans. Standing awkwardly in front of you, Mike manages only to drop his box of Eggos, the rain pouring silently down his face like tears as he pouts a little, his raven hair slick against his head as it pelts down upon his unprotected skin. His striped shirt is nearly see through in the cold, and you can’t help but wondering what the hell is wrong with him, standing in the middle of the rain, shivering lightly, at nearly ten past midnight.

‘Y/n, what-what are you doing here?’

‘I could ask you the same thing, Mike.’ Glancing around him to the wooden box his foot kicks against backing away slightly, you ask ‘why is your favourite hoodie on the ground?’

‘I dropped it y/n, jesus, it’s none of your business anyway.’

‘Mike...’, you manage to stumble to your feet, approaching him slowly so as not to scare him off, him staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights, his arms flush by his side and unmoving, ‘Mike, what’s going on, please just tell me.’

Placing one hand on his shoulder, your thumb moving uncomfortably against the damp material, he bows his head a little, a deep breath rumbling through his chest. There’s a tense silence for a moment,as the two of you just stand there in the downpour, unsure of what to do or say. What you don’t expect, however, is for Mike to grab your hand, throwing it down onto your stomach with a dull thud.

‘You wouldn’t understand!’, he begins to shout, his hands coming up to fist into his air, ‘there’s a reason we haven’t told you, y/n! It’s because we don’t care about you! You have no idea what it’s like! No idea what it’s like to lose everything! Jesus, just leave me alone!’

As he stomps past you, his sneakers nearly slipping on the damp pine cones that crunch under his feet, little wood chippings sticking to his slipping socks, he thumps against your shoulder without a care, his eyes downcast and a pained expression flashing through his face. As you just stand there, confused and lost, the only thing you could think, no matter how ridiculous, was that you weren’t sure if the streaks running down his flushed cheeks were little dew droplets of rain, or burning, throbbing tears.

[ravenbrenna09]

I was tagged by @well-who-needs-angels-anyway

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? black

2. a food you never eat? fish, anything fish, the smell bothers me

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Eating and pulling my hair out because of my group’s inability to respond to my text message

5. what is your favorite candy bar? KitKat and Hershey are pretty much tied and I’m not about to choose.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event? Unfortunately

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? I don’t remember what I said but I was talking to my mom’s boyfriend, who stopped by with my mom to pick up something, about my group’s inability to respond b/c I want to get this project done as soon as physically possible (I’m not salty, I swear, just annoyed)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? chocolate

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? soda (probably shouldn’t have but here we are)

10. do you like your wallet? yeah, sort of, I wish it was smaller

11. what was the last thing you ate? french fries

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope, I probably need jeans though

13. the last sporting event you watched? Honestly, probably a football game that was on in a restaurant that I was in which I would look up to simply so I’d have something to look at.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? I don’t have one. I don’t even like regular popcorn. 

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my mom to let her know I was heading back to my apartment and @peaceoutofthepieces before she went to bed (it was around the same time)

16. ever go camping? yeah, I don’t like the outdoors though so I didn’t have a good time

17. do you take vitamins? my mom makes me take some energy ones but idk if they work

18. do you go to church every sunday? nope, I haven’t been in a church since I was 12 (or I was trying to have more time with my best friend and we’re not friends anymore so... *shrugs*) 

19. do you have a tan? when I was constantly in the sun year but that was several years ago

20. do you prefer chinese food or pizza? pizza, there’s no contest, pizza

21. do you drink your soda with a straw? depends on if I get it from a restaurant or if it’s in my house

22. what color socks do you usually wear? all the socks

23. ever drive above the speed limit? my state generally drives 5 above the speed limit anyway and I’m pretty sure a cop has gone around me going the speed limit with over 10 over the speed limit

24. what terrifies you? a lot of things, but mostly being an embarrassment, being forgotten, being abandoned, not being good enough... the list goes ooooonnnnnnnn

25. look to your left, what do you see? a lamp and an open door to the hallway

26. what chore do you hate? (all the chores tbh) cleaning my room even though I know it’ll be easy because why would I do that when I could be doing literally anything else. 

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? Steve McGarrett from Hawaii-Five-O because I’ve seen him in so many other shows with a perfect American accent, but then I watched an interview and I literally can’t look at him the same. Oh, and also Beliza (Bob Morley and Eliza Taylor) 

28. what’s your favorite soda? Coca-Cola

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? I would literally rather do the drive-thru no matter the line. I just don’t see the point of stopping my car, getting out, waiting inside, only to go out to my car again and fight to get out of the parking lot. 

30. who’s the last person you talked to? my mom and her boyfriend

31. favorite cut of beef? ngl, I don’t know what this is asking

32. last song you listened to? This Is How We Roll by Florida Georgia Line ft. Luke Bryan

33. last book you read? All my reading these days is my own shit and fanfiction so I honestly don’t remember the last book I read. Probably the Selection series if I had to guess. 

34. favorite day of the week? Umm... I don’t really have one right now because every day is school so ask me in like a month?

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? no

36. do you like your coffee? frappuccinos and that’s it. I only really had them on campus because I could so since school closed, I haven’t had any. Probably a little better for my wallet

37. favorite pair of shoes? my slip on black shoes

38. at what time do you normally go to bed? 10pm-1am

39. at what time do you normally get up? it changes day-to-day

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets all the way. 

41. how many blankets are on your bed? 2

42. describe your kitchen plates. plain old white

43. do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? I don’t drink at all

44. do you play cards? nope

45. what color is your car? my car is a blue van but the paint is chipping terribly on the sides and on the front but it’s over a decade old (I think about 15 years, it was my grandmother’s and they saved it so I would have the car when I got my license) so I’m not really surprised. 

46. can you change a tire? my mom showed me how to change one once when I got a flat and while I’m sure that I’d have to be on the phone with her while I was doing it (because I’m paranoid that I’m just going to fuck everything up), I could probably do it.

47. what is your favorite province? Never been outside of the continental U.S. so I don’t know...

48. favorite job you’ve ever had? I love my current job as a tutor at my school and a learning assistant in a freshman course. 

49. How did you get your biggest scar? Uh, I think my biggest scar in on one of my calves and basically what happened is I was going down the stairs to a test with my teacher and another student (because we were reviewing beforehand) so I was walking and my foot got under me and I fell. Which, wouldn’t be that bad except it was concrete stairs so it broke a significant portion of my skin. I got a bandaid and cleaned it up a little, still took my test (got a 70 but it got replaced by the final so I got an A in the class), drove 30 minutes home with my leg aching (i don’t remember which leg it was and I’m wearing jeans or I would check), and walked in my kitchen to show my mom. Tbh, it only became a scar because I have a habit of picking on scars and fingernails and basically anything.

I’m an anxious bean. Okay?

50. what did you do today that made someone else happy? ... I actually don’t know, I’ve been doing homework all day... uh I pet my cat and he started purring, does that count?

Tagging: Um, I don’t know! anyone who wants to join, I guess.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Eel River Inn (6/?)

Bucky Barnes is nervous for this date. It’s his first real date in almost 70 years. It doesn’t matter that you’ve already slept with him. It doesn’t matter that he knows some of your most painful secrets. He wants to do this right. He wants you to cuddle into his arms tonight and feel butterflies in your tummy as he kisses you goodnight. You deserve to be spoiled and petted. You deserve to have someone worship the ground you walk on. 

He wants it to be him. He wants you to run to him when the world is too big and too harsh. He wants you to be his to protect. His peace in the storm. As he shaved and dressed, he felt shabby and he hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere fancy. Maybe a dive bar for a beer. His jeans had holes and he did his best to shine his boots and find a not threadbare shirt. 

 His hands are trembling and his stomach is in knots. When he hears your truck he almost jumps out of his skin. He goes to the door and opens it, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. He isn’t ready for what you look like though. Your butter yellow dress, red lips, dainty white flats and hair in soft curls framing your face. His every daydream during the war come to life. When you smile at him, he can’t help but grin at you. “You look beautiful,” he says warmly, kissing you hello. You turn the cutest shade of pink he’s ever seen and bite your lip, “I clean up okay for a grease monkey,” you say with a shrug. Bucky frowns and tilts your chin up, “Doll, you gotta be kidding me. I’m gonna be watching you like a hawk all night just to keep other guys from trying to steal you away. You are everything I ever dreamed about when I was stuck in Germany... A whole daydream come to life.” You look up at him from under your lashes. Most of the time you felt like you were impersonating a girl instead of being one. You spent so long covered in grease and sweat. Being one of the boys to protect yourself from the constant barrage of toxic masculinity and empty swinging dick talk. “I think you’re beautiful all the time,” he whispered conspiratorially, “But you caught me off guard, Doll. I thought you were gonna take it easy on me now that you know I’m a senior citizen.” 

That coaxes a laugh out of you, easy and carefree, “Lord,” you say, rolling your eyes. But you pull him into a kiss that tells him all the things you can’t say and he melts into you. When you pull away, he isn’t nervous anymore. This is exactly what he wants. You’re his, covered in grease or dressed like a daydream. “So, where to, Sweetheart?” he asked, opening the passenger door of your truck for you and helping you inside. “Out of the parking lot and to the left,” you say, kissing his cheek. He does as you tell him, holding your hand except for when he needs to shift gears.

When he pulls up in the parking lot of the drive-in movie, you smile at him and kiss the hand you’re holding, “I decided I’d rather make you watch a movie with me,” you say at his amused glance. “I want a cuddle and I want to eat popcorn while watching Giant monsters fight.” He kisses your cheek and smiles, “I’ll get the popcorn, Doll.” He hops out of the truck and strolls through the lanes of cars. He’d only ever really seen one of these things in movies. He figured they were extinct. Like Dodos or Lemmings. He buys popcorn and sodas, ignoring the looks his hand gets. The hand you kiss without thinking about it when he touches your cheek with it. 

When he gets back to you, you cuddle into his side and put your feet on the seat next to you, happily munching on popcorn. Bucky relaxes into the moment. It’s mundane and you’re just so pretty. When you look up at him, happy and smiling, he wants to tell you that he loves you but he makes himself stay quiet. 

The movie ends and Bucky drives to your house, he doesn’t hesitate. He carries you into the house and up to your room. Your dress and his clothes litter the floor but he doesn’t make love to you, he pulls you into his arms and relishes the warmth of your body, He listens to you falling asleep, your hand on his heart. He lets himself fall asleep, his arms around you. It feels right. 

It feels right with you right up until you have to leave for your flight. When he kisses you goodbye, you promise to call him when the plane lands. He promises to be safe going back to New York. You pull him down to kiss him again and smile, “I miss you and I’m not even on the plane yet,” you tell him. He smiles and kisses your forehead, “Don’t worry, Doll,” he says, “I won’t stay away long. You’re my best girl. I love you too much to...” he stops and his cheeks turn red. He hadn’t meant to say it. He’d meant to wait. But when he looks at your face, you’ve gone from the brink of tears to smiling, “I love you, too.” He laughs and pulls you into a kiss that bruises your lips. You almost miss your flight because you just can’t stop kissing him. But as you walk away from him it takes all your self-control not to turn back around. Not to run back into his arms. Bucky has to physically hold onto the railing to keep from chasing you. 

He wants to run right back to your house. To your bed. He wants to lay in the rumpled bedding and find himself over and over again as you say his name and plead so prettily for more. He’d discovered a lot about your likes and dislikes this week. You liked to take charge about as often as you liked him to be in charge. The more of your buttons he could find the more he liked them. You were a goddess between the sheets and he knew that he’d start craving you soon. That he’d be desperate to be with you again before it had been a few days. It was everything about you that drew him in and made him want to stay. Not just the sex but the feel of the air when you walked into a room. The energy changed. Everything got warmer and softer. You were home, he knew. It didn’t matter where he went, you would always be home. 

With nothing to do but mope and be sad on the plane, you turn your attention to work, pulling your laptop out of your bag. It’s a long flight and you know you won’t sleep, not when the feel of Bucky’s last kiss is still making you tingle. You figure if you can focus you might be able to write a decent climax to a love story before the plane lands.

You can’t. 

You get hit with a rush of feelings and sit in the seat, head on the window and your arms wrapped around yourself feeling vulnerable and exposed. By the time your flight lands your brain has settled on “Crushing Depression” and Lady is practically climbing into your lap trying to fix it. You’re too numb to even cry as you go to get your bag. You just want to go home. Fuck the movie deal. Fuck meeting that actor who likes your work. You just want to sleep.

But first, you call Bucky. “Hey, Handsome,” you say when he says hello. 

Bucky can hear a shift in your tone of voice. You’re always fairly quiet spoken and the forced nature of your current talking volume is super evident. “You okay, baby?” he asks. The question makes you want to cry but instead, you force yourself to say, “I’m okay, just tired.” He doesn’t believe you. You don’t sound okay. You sound like you need someone to be there. “Y/N,” he said gently, pausing in the process of packing his bags to head back to New York, “You take care of yourself, you hear me?” He can hear Lady’s tags jingle and the soft thud of a trunk closing. “I’m okay,” you insist, “Just... missing you. I always deal with feelings when I have to leave the house. I just have a couple extra piled on today.” He smiles a little, “I’m here whenever you need me,” he says, “Just call.”

“I love you,” you say. “I love you, too Doll.” he says. The line goes dead and he snorts. You hate talking on the phone. He’s actually a little surprised you didn’t just text him.

You bury yourself in work to cope with your feelings, texting Bucky pictures of funny things and wtf things that you see running around in LA. 

Bucky tries to hide his feelings for you, maintaining his privacy a while longer but, during training with Steve when his phone chimes that he has a message and he stops mid punch to dodge out of the way to answer it, Steve has had enough. “Bucky,” he says, “What the fuck are you doing?” Natasha strolls over, “More accurately, who are you doing?” she asks smirking. 

Bucky feels his cheeks color and Steve gapes at him for a second, “You got a girlfriend?” That makes Bucky smile. He hadn’t asked you or anything. But you loved him. “What’s her name?” Nat asked nudging his shoulder playfully. “Y/N,” he says, “She’s an author.” Steve punches Bucky’s flesh arm and laughs, “I should have known you wouldn’t stay in some backwater little town for anything short of a girl.” Bucky rolls his eyes and Nat smiles, “Got a picture?” she asks.

“A clothed picture,” Steve jokes earning a look from Bucky. “They’re all clothed,” he says mildly, “She’s a good girl, a real sweetheart. I was roaming around town looking for a bite to eat and she asked me if I was lost after I damn near knocked her over.” He scrolls for his favorite picture of you. You’re walking across the yard with a rag in your hands and Lady by your side. There’s grease on your face and your hair is in a bun, caught up in your hat to keep it out of your face. You’d been working on a neighbor’s car. A single mom with 3 kids who couldn’t afford a mechanic in town so she paid you in her kids doing your yard work and looking after your house when you traveled. You’re mid step and laughing at the kids who are pestering you about spoilers for your new book. He didn’t know what it was his favorite, only that it was. Natasha smiled, “She’s a cutie,” she said, “A little more ‘girl next door’ than bombshell but she suits you.” Steve takes a look and smiles a little, “Nah,” Steve said, “That’s his type. It’s always been his type. She looks like trouble.”

“For an author, she looks like she doesn’t spend much time writing,” Natasha observed. Bucky shrugged, “She studied some experimental mechanics shit in College so she tinkers. She was fixing a neighbor’s car.” Natasha tilts her head, “Is her last name Y/L/N?” she asks. Bucky pauses, “Yeah, why?”

Natasha smiles a little sadly “I thought I knew her from somewhere,” she said. She sighs, “I was there, doing recon right before her mental break. She was always really nice. Supportive. Drank unholy amounts of coffee and would smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day. Lightning fast welder. Super manic all the time and it wasn’t all the coffee. I was about to offer her a job with S.H.E.I.L.D. when she lept off a 4th-floor catwalk after spending the better part of the day hallucinating a conversation with someone. I always wondered what happened to her after that. She was too nice a person to be working in a place like that.” Bucky nodded, “She started writing while she was in the hospital. And it all just kinda worked. She’s in talks to get a book made into a movie now.” Bucky is proud of you, Steve can read it on his face. 

“Stark probably knows her too,” Natasha muses, “I know he tried to get her to come talk at the Stark Expo a few years ago and he was a little irritated when she politely declined. She’s got a couple pieces of tech she’s designed that he wants permission to use. Or at least she did a few years ago. I dunno if he ever managed to get a hold of her.” Steve snorts, “Stark didn’t just pay her off?” Natasha shook her head, “He tried, she said she had a previous engagement that was going to last the duration of the expo. She hung up on him before he could get out that it was a year-long thing and then wouldn’t return any of his other calls. She went radio silent after that.” Bucky smiled a little, “She was probably writing. Or bouncing around the globe doing whatever it is she does when she gets on a plane for a not work-related trip.”

Steve shook his head and sighed, “You’re a goner, Buck.” Bucky doesn’t even try to deny it. He can’t wait to see you again. 

[imagine-a-fangirl]

One shot: Happy 100th birthday

A/N: Okay I completely forgot about this xD. I wrote this for the 4th of July, Steve birthday, but I was on my holiday and it didn’t upload so I placed it in my queue to try again later… well it’s later… about a month later.. well hope you guys like it anyway :)

wordcount: 1730

Y/N pov

Being an Avenger was great, really. You travelled all over the world, you were able to use your skills to make the world a better place, but above all you had gained a whole new family. A family that was a bit broken, a family that, contrary to what the outside world might think, wasn’t perfect but you loved each other and that was all that mattered.

As a family you had a couple of unspoken rules, one of those rules being that whenever there was a special occasion, everyone would be present. And one of those occasions was coming up, one that was important to you most of all. The 100th birthday of your soon to be husband was coming up, and that was not going to be pass by unnoticed.

Steve didn’t really enjoy parties, especially not when he was supposed to be the centre of attention. That’s why you and the rest had been planning a special birthday dinner. You were involved in almost every decision that was being made, you picked the restaurant with Tony, decided the menu with Bucky, made a list of people to invite with Sam etcetera etcetera.

Everything went very smooth, until a week before you were called by Fury. He had a mission that was right up your alley, one that needed you to leave as quickly as you could. When you agreed to it, you had expected to be back in time. Hell Fury even promised you, you would be.

But here you were, it was the 3rd of July 5 minutes before twelve. And instead of lying safely and warm in Steve’s arms, you were hiding in the closet of some sort of psycho criminal. You were able to get an apology message to friday who would hopefully deliver it to Steve.

Steve pov

He hadn’t liked it when you left, not because there was a possibility that you would miss his birthday, for all he cared they would celebrate it a month later. But because you were on this mission alone. Ever since you were together he always tried to go with you, or to make sure one of the other was with you. Every time you went alone he would be afraid you wouldn’t make it back, not because he doubted your skills but because he knew it was part of the job.

The week had been slowly passing by, it was supposed to be his birthday in 30, 29, 28… well less than half a minute. “Happy birthday to me.” He sighed as he once again rolled over to your side of the bed. A cold spot, instead of it being filled by you warm, loving presence. Steve needed to get out of his bed, just to get his mind on something else. He swung his legs out of the bed, and made his way to the kitchen. He went through the fridge until he found something good to eat, it had your name on but you probably wouldn’t mind he thought. He sat down at the counter and started swiping through one of the tablets installed there.

“Mr Rogers, may I interrupt for a moment?” Friday called through the tablet.

“Sure, shoot.” There wasn’t really anything that could screw up his mood much more.

“I have a message for you from Miss Y/N, if you press the play button in the corner of your tablet it will automatically start playing.” She announced

“Thank you, friday appreciate it.” Steve stuffed another bite of food in his mouth before pressing the button. The video started playing, it was almost completely dark, he could barely make out the contours of your face. You voice was not louder than a whisper.

“Hi Steve, This is not really the way that I wanted it to go, but for now I don’t really have another option. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and apologize for not being there with you. I’m really sorry, I did everything I could to get back yesterday… just know that I love you very much and try to enjoy you birthday a bit will you? We really did our best and…” A loud bang interrupted you “I have to go, I love you.” The video was quickly cut off. Steve knew the video was meant to sooth his thoughts, to let him know that you were doing fine. Yet the abrupt ending of the video did everything but that. “Could you tell me where this video was send from Friday?” Steve asked

“I’m sorry Mr. Rogers, the location has been encrypted by a code. By the time I cracked it Miss Y/N will probably not be in the same spot anymore.”

“Right, okay thank you.” Of course you had made sure you encrypted your location, not only would it put you at risk, but you probably knew he was coming after you if he had your location. Steve decided to take another try of catching some sleep.

Y/N pov

That explosion was exactly what you had been waiting for. Now everything just had to go according to plan and maybe, just maybe you would make it for the final courses of Steve’s birthday dinner.

Steve Pov

Much to his surprise, Steve had been able to catch some sleep. He was woken up by the sound of his alarm. His morning started like any other, a morning run, a shower followed by breakfast. Breakfast is where it all started to be about his birthday. Tony was putting up the final decorations in the room, while Bucky and Wanda were preparing breakfast. “There is the old man.” Tony announced when Steve came walking in “Congratulations.” He said as he gave him a hug “Will you be able to make it to your seat or do you want me to grab your walker.”

“Very funny Tony, but physically I’m still 15 years younger than you are.” He laughed

“Ouch, getting sassier by the years.” Bucky walked over from the counter “Happy birthday Punk.”

“Alright, you guys with all the manly congratulations?” Wanda laughed when she kissed Steve on the cheek “Happy Birthday, Steve. Sam and Nat are on their way. Thor is joining later.” She told him

“Heard anything from y/n?” Bucky asked him, flipping the last pancake on a hot plate

“Yes, she is not going to make it. And the little video she made ended with an explosion… so I’m not exactly reassured that she’s safe.” He sighed

“Don’t worry about to much about her, she knows what she is doing.” Bucky tried

“Location was encrypted I assume?” Tony checked, just to be sure. Steve nodded. “Barnes is right she got this. Now have a seat, I’m getting hungry.”

The day went by fast, once Sam and Nat had arrived they had breakfast together followed by a couple of presents. One being the announcement that he wouldn’t get a fancy party tonight, but a dinner instead. Steve looked up from a package he was tearing open, when Sam’s phone started ringing. He quickly walked away before picking it up “hey, what’s wrong?” He could hear him say before he was out of hearing distance.

“Guys I have to go real quick, I’m back in a minute or 10.” Sam announced before taking his jacket from his seat.

Steve thought it was a bit suspicious, but decided not to pay to much attention to it. Like you told him, you guys had put a lot of effort in his birthday and he was not to ruin that by asking questions.

After the presents they went out to the park and enjoyed a relaxed day just hanging, talking and playing some football. A game that had became rather competitive since Bucky and Sam were the captains. The game was finally cut off by Tony who told them it was time to go to the restaurant. When they arrived Steve could tell that you helped picking out the restaurant, it wasn’t anything to fancy but still special enough to celebrate such an occasion. The courses consisted of everything that Steve liked, just presented in a more fancy way. There were even things on the menu that he hadn’t eaten since the 1940’s. They had gotten to the fourth course when Tony tabbed his knife against his glass, and got up from his chair. “Alright everyone, before we continue to the next course I wanted to say a few words.” “Oh god.” “Don’t worry Cap it’s all good.” Tony grinned “Steve I never really liked you when I grew up, and when we first met my impression of you wasn’t the best. And your impression of me, I assume was just as bad. But the more we worked together, the more I got to know and understand you, the more I started to like you. And know I’m happy to call you one of my closest friends. I hope nothing but the best for you in the future, with a happy marriage to the woman you love and everything else you want. To the next 100 years, to Steve.” Tony raised his glass. “Thank you Tony, I really appreciate it.” Steve got up from his chair to hug him “So before you sit down again, we have one last present for you.” Sam announced “What? No it’s already to much.” Steve protested but got a small box pressed into his hands. “Just open it already.” Steve tore of the paper from the package and inside there was a box. He opened the box where there was a little piece of paper. “So what does it say?” Wanda pushed “Turn around.” Steve read aloud, carefully he turned around being afraid of what his friends had planned for him. But what was behind him was far from scary “Happy Birthday.” You smiled before pressing a kiss on his lips. When he realized that you were actually here, he didn’t know how fast to wrap his arms around you “You made it.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[agressivelyunfancynerd]

Happy Birthday to You (Bucky Fic)

Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Almost smut.

Blurb: When Stark embarrasses you by springing a surprise birthday party on you, you have a few too many drinks and confront Bucky about his hate for you; only it’s not what you think.

Word Count: 2,600+

You’d been at the Avengers tower for about six months now, and in that time you had become pretty good friends with all of them.

You loved talking to Steve about the past and history, what really happened as opposed to what was written in the books.

You and Tony loved to try your hand at building things, although you were usually more there watching than actually helping. He did let you try on his helmet once, which was awesome.

You always went to Bruce when you had a science-y question, or just wanted to chat, he was probably your favourite person. In fact, you did sort of have a crush on him, if only he was a little younger or you were a little older – or you know, if he didn’t have eyes for Nat, who could kill you with her pinkie finger.

You and Nat became really good sparring partners; you loved how she pushed you to be better, without screaming at you and making you hate physical exercise.

Clint was teaching you how to shoot arrows and throw knives. And skulk around the tower and scare people, like he does.  

Sam and Peter were basically like the two annoying brothers you never had. Constantly pushing your buttons. You loved the goofballs though.

Wanda was your roommate for a time, when you first arrived, she said she knew what it was like to be the newbie and to feel alone, and she wasn’t going to let that happen to you; and since then you’d become good friends. You often stayed up into the wee hours of the morning in either her room or yours, wrapped up in blankets, talking or watching TV.  

Thor was so much fun; you loved spending time with him. Especially when he talked about the realms and the stars and Asgard. One time you got him to talk to you about his favourite place in the entire universe and you drew it in your sketch pad, when you were done he was so happy about how perfect you captured it, he bear hugged you until you almost passed out. He reminded you of a giant Labrador, so full of love and happiness. Despite being the God of Thunder.

You hadn’t really had much to do with Vision or Rhodey though, but they seemed like nice guys.

And then there was Bucky. He wouldn’t give you the time of day. Never said hello, or smiled – did he even know how to smile – when you had to spar with him, he didn’t hold back. Often you left the sessions hurting, bruised. If you came into a room and no one else was there, he got up and left, if someone else was there he pulled them into a deep conversation until you left. If you said you were going to one of Stark’s parties, he either didn’t show up, or showed up for ten minutes and then left with some hot piece of ass.

You only wished you knew what you did or said to make him hate you. You weren’t a bad person, you were friendly, you talked about anything, you made a mean coffee cheesecake, and you were up for any kind of adventure – sitting watching Netflix, hiking, going to the beach. You just couldn’t fathom why someone hated you so much, with every fiber of their being, like Bucky did.

***

You were having the most wonderful dream, when your phone blared its annoying text tone, to alert you that you had a message. You rolled over in your bed, blinking and trying to wake up. You grabbed your phone, and with one eye open, you clicked it on and read a message from Tony.

 === YOU’RE INVITED ===

Party with the Avengers!!!

@ The Avengers Tower

SIX O’CLOCK TONIGHT!

No RSVP Necessary

- Tony Stark

 You grumbled. Normally you didn’t mind Stark’s parties, but after your latest encounter with Bucky you were in no mood to party. Yesterday you’d been sparring with Nat when she was called away, and Bucky was asked to step in, he basically knocked you off balance, yelled at you for being so easily knocked off balance and then stormed out of the training room.

Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and you ended up going back to your room and crying in the bottom of your shower like a little child. Bucky just pushed your buttons.

Did you really have to go to the party? Would Stark even notice? You kept trying to think up ways to get out of it, but nothing came to you.

You got out of bed and went for a shower, it was already one o’clock, you’d slept in; which was great, but also bad, because now you had even less time to mentally and emotionally prepare for the party.

After your shower you decided to head to Wanda’s room and grab her, stopping on the way to grab Nat, if you were going to the party you were going to look and feel hot, but you were going to need all the help you could get.

You knocked on Nat’s door.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” Nat said.

“I need your help, can you go to my room and wait for me, and I’ll be back in a second.” You said, turning away. Nat agreed and was already heading to your room.

You got to Wanda’s door and before you could knock she was already opening it.

“I knew you’d come, as soon as I got Stark’s text, what’s up?” She asked, smiling.

“I need you and Nat to make me pretty for the party, and help me pick a rocking outfit.” You said.

“You’re already pretty Y/N” Wanda sighed, “but we’ll see how we can highlight that” she winked.

You and Wanda were just turning into your bedroom when you noticed Nat had already laid some clothes on the bed, some yours, and some hers. You would swear, she was a mind reader. Wanda went to your wardrobe and grabbed a few other bits and pieces and put them down too, before running back to hers and Nat’s room and grabbing the makeup bags.  

After hours of primping and polishing you were done. Nat and Wanda had butted heads on a few things, and you flatly refused a few as well, but between the three of you, you came out with a rocking, biker chic outfit, killer boots and makeup that would have models jealous.

“Oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much you guys!” You smiled at them in the mirror.

“Hey, the foundation was already there, we just added to it” Nat said, smiling and then leaving the room.

“Every guy in that party tonight is going to want your number girl! And maybe half the ladies too, you look hot!” Wanda winked, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before she too left to get ready.

You were actually in awe of your outfit. It was the perfect combo of street style and girly chic. You had a slinky black dress with long see through lace sleeves, and a daring V-neck cut, courtesy of Wanda, which you paired with thigh high black leather boots, courtesy of Nat; a leather jacket with lace in the back and sleeves, which you were proud to say was your own pick. Then you just polished the outfit with a nice choker necklace, and some rings.

Your makeup was fierce, cat eyed eyeliner, dark smoky eyes, and bright cherry red lips, again courtesy of Wanda. That girl loved her red. You did one last check in the mirror before heading out of your room.

***

Guests had started arriving at four, it was crazy. By six when the party actually started it was booming, loud music, hot bodies dancing, and alcohol in every hand. You shouldered your way through until you were at the bar.

“Hey Steve” you half yelled when you saw him sitting alone.

“Hey Y/N– wow! You look, you, ah. You look really beautiful” he smiled. You and Steve chatted for a while, until Sam and Thor came over, something about a darts challenge, you weren’t really sure.

Just as you signalled the bartender for another drink you noticed Bucky enter. Along with every other woman in the place. He wore a tight black button down, black skinny-ish jeans and his signature combat boots. He’d brushed his hair and put it in a little bun.

Your breath caught for like two seconds before you realised he was staring at you. You quickly turned and downed your drink.

When you thought it was safe to glance back over your shoulder, you did, only to see Bucky still staring. Just as you were about to make a run for the door, Stark came in and told everyone to shut the hell up. The room went dead.

“Now, unlike most of my other parties … Okay, unlike all of my other parties, this one actually has a reason behind it!” he yelled, everyone looked puzzled and started whispering back and forth. You took another chance to scan the room, eyes automatically falling on Bucky, who was still staring.

“This party is sort of a welcome, for our newest Avengers,” he glanced at you, then at Peter, and T’Challa who’d only recently agreed to be a fully fledged Avenger, “it’s also someone’s birthday, and I do love birthdays” he continued.

Before your brain could respond, Stark was pointing at you, and a spotlight came on, lighting you up like a Christmas tree.

“Let’s all give up for Y/N on her birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Tony yelled, before the crowd started singing happy birthday. Your cheeks were burning. You looked up at Stark, and glared. He only winked at you.

You looked back into the crowd of people, Bucky was, smirking.

***

You’re not sure how many drinks you had after Tony’s announcement, but it was definitely more than your average two. You were past tipsy, and heading straight into crash and burn territory. But not before you did something incredibly stupid that you would definitely regret tomorrow.

You hoped up off of your stool at the bar, pushed past everyone and sauntered straight over to Bucky and slapped him right across the face. The resounding slap making the whole room silent.

Thor who was mere feet away was standing with his mouth hanging open; Steve had stood up from his chair, but was unsure of how to react, you didn’t know, or care where the rest of the team was, and Bucky, Bucky actually smiled.

“You’re a real piece of work ya know that! I can see it in the way you stare at me, you don’t think I am worth your time; you won’t even take the time to get to know the person I might be, no matter how nice I am to you, or how friendly I try to be, you could care less. And it’s bullshit! You treat me like shit on your shoes, you push me harder in sparring than anyone else, and you just about break my back every time we train! What, the actual fuck did I do to you? Huh?!” you threw your arms up in the air, giving a quick circle before turning back to him, “Did I take your favourite coffee cup without asking? Did I take your spot on the couch? Did I offend you in any way? Please for the love of fuck tell me! Because I would really fucking love to know!” When you had finished yelling and realised that everyone was staring at you, whispering, the heat started to come back to your cheeks, and Bucky was still smiling.

“You know what; I’m done trying to be nice. FUCK YOU!” you spat at him, and for a split second, his smile wavered, before he steeled himself. You stormed out of the party, stomping your feet every step of the way to the elevators.

The elevator dinged and you stepped inside. Just as the doors began to shut Bucky shouldered in. He waited for the doors to close, and then hit the emergency stop button, before turning and walking right up to you, backing you into the wall, and put his hands on the wall, either side of your body. You tensed.

His crystal blue eyes bore into you.

“I don’t hate you” he whispered, so soft you barely heard it.

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Hate. You” he said, making sure to enunciate every word.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you treat me so shit, huh?!” You tried to get past him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Because I like you, you intrigue me, you, you’re something else.”

“WHAT?! You treat me like shit because I interest you? Because you like me? What are we, in second grade?!” You were screaming again.

“I treat you like I do, because you’re the strongest person I know, and I know you can take it, anyone else would’ve given up a long time ago, trying to be my friend, but you didn’t, anyone else would’ve punched me in the face for pushing them so hard in training, but not you, you took it and came back for more, it’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. He was being childish. I like you, so I treat you like shit.

“Ya know, a better, more adult way, of treating someone you like is to, A, tell them you like them, B, act like a human being with them, you know smile at them when they smile, say hello when they say hello, not just grunt, and C, maybe once in a while tell them something looks nice; like oh hey Steve love the new hair cut! You know, be a person.” You grumble.

“Okay,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you, the heat radiating off his body, his breath warm on your skin. “Y/N, I like you,” he smiled, “I will endeavour to say hello to you, every time you say it to me, from now on, and also, you look fucking gorgeous in that dress tonight doll face. You give a man all kinds of ideas.” He winked.

Between your thighs got hot and you could feel the pooling in your panties.

You went to push him away, he was clearly drunk and didn’t know what he was saying, but before you could move, he’d pinned your arms above your head, and his lips crashed into yours. It was a deep, hungry kiss. His body was pressed so hard against yours; you could feel him getting hard.

His lips left yours and he started trailing down your neck, until his head was right at the base of the V-neck, just above your breasts. You moaned and he looked up at you from under his lashes and smirked.

“Good to know the feeling is mutual then” he teased. Before making his way back up to your lips. You kissed him again, harder and more hungry than before. Your legs shot up and wrapped around his waist and you rolled your hips against him to get some friction.

“You know I didn’t get to ask, what with you yelling at me,” he said in between kisses, “what do you want for your birthday?”

“You” was all you could croak out.

“And so you shall, as many times as you want, birthday girl.” He grinned.

With that, Bucky let your legs fall back to the floor, which made you whimper; he slammed the button to your floor and when the elevator arrived he pulled you by the arm until you were in your room.

 End.

   Inspired by the song “Like That” by Bea Miller, specifically these lyrics:

Can see it from the way you looking at me You don't think I'm worth your time Don't care about the person that I might be Offended that I walk the line So what if I'm not So what if I'm not everything you wanted me to be? So what if I am So what if I am more than you can see? When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

[demonsonthemoon]

We Shall Rule - Chapter 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairing: Platonic Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, background Jessica Drew/Natasha Romanoff Word Count: 3953 Summary: Bucky Barnes is slowly recovering from trauma and trying to start a having a normal life once more. Then he meets Clint, a new variable that intrigues him in a way he can’t quite name. This is a story of people learning to know each others and themselves, navigating identity and relationships, overcoming trauma and trust issues. It’s a story about life. Note: Written for #AggressivelyArospecWeek 2017 over at @aggressivelyarospec.  Currently a work in progress, so I’ll post the first two chapters during the week, and then I’ll try to post one chapter a month.

Also available on AO3.

Bucky didn't call Clint.

It wasn't because he didn't want to. He did. He just didn't know why he wanted to. He couldn't understand why the guy had caught his attention, and didn't want to act without a reason.

He tried to just ignore the night altogether, but his brain had a habit of not listening once it had latched onto something.

He did some research in the meantime, trying to get a better grasp on what aromanticism entailed since it seemed to be an important subject to Clint. His first intuition was confirmed when he saw that aromanticism was defined as a total lack of romantic attraction, no matter a person's gender. He also quickly realized what Clint had meant when talking about an “aromantic spectrum”, and looked up a few more identities that belonged in the arospec category. He was especially interested after finding an article that defined amatonormativity, the way society as a whole saw romantic love as inherent to human nature and as a compulsory necessity. It was nice to be confronted to a worldview he hadn't known he had held and to be forced to put it into question.

He hadn't really thought about romance since his injury, too busy getting himself to function again, then getting himself to a state he could adequately call “better”. But he realized that a part of him had expected him to start focusing on it again at some point, like it was something he had to do. Of course doing research didn't help put Clint out of his mind. It also didn't help the morbid quality that his fixation on the man was taking on. Bucky felt conflicted, feeling like this need to understand the man was only strengthening the idea he had of him as other, as a curiosity more than a human being. And so Bucky didn't call.

But one day he got a text.

He still hadn't been cleared for work after his injury, and so his days were filled with a lot of nothing interspaced with bouts of therapy, both physical and psychological. This meant that he was very quick to jump onto the distraction that his phone offered and see who was contacting him.

The fact that Clint's named was brightly displayed on his home screen came as a surprise though.

For a second, he considered not reading the message. He felt like he was in highschool again, weighing the consequences of each of his actions as if they would have an immeasurable impact on the rest of his life.

His muscles tensed up.

Then he finally opened the text.

Hi :) would you like to get a coffee or smthg some time this week?? my friends say I need to get out of the house

Bucky considered his options. This was an opening. An excuse to act and not have to blame it on himself. He wondered whether he should just admit that he didn't really have anything to do all week, thought about whether it would seem desperate or not. Realized that he was once more acting like this was his last year of high school all over again.

I'm free today if that's okay 4 u?

It was three o'clock on a Thursday. Hopefully Clint wouldn't ask any invasive question about his schedule.

In an hour downtown at the Falcon?

Bucky thought about it. He could vaguely picture where the coffee shop was situated, but was surprised that Clint would suggest it.

Weren't you supposed to be broke??

He only had to wait a few seconds for the answer.

Barista on duty today owes me a favor :))))

Bucky smiled, without thinking about it. He started twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

Meet you there.

Bucky pocketed his phone. He put away the book he had abandoned on the coffee table. Looking around the apartment, he took in how spotless it was. It never used to be like that, before. Steve was kind of a slob, despite what everyone seemed to think when they first met him, and when Bucky had been working in town as well as going through school, he hadn't had time, energy nor desire to clean things. But there wasn't anything else for him to do now, not until he got cleared by his two therapists as fit-to-work. So he did the housework, and tried not to feel like a sitcom housewife and greet Steve with a kiss as he came home.

And at least Steve knew him well enough and had the decency not to comment on the state of their apartment. Even when Bucky got stressed and started cleaning things that had been spotless all along, he didn't say anything.

He was too good a friend, sometimes, and it broke Bucky's heart. Bucky hadn't always been so easy to be good to.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he wanted to see Clint again so badly. He was new. He was a blank slate. Bucky hadn't known Sam before his injury, but Sam was Steve's friend, it wasn't the same. Clint could be a new beginning.

He flinched at the thought. He didn't want to use the man in any way. He wanted to see him as a person. Nothing more, nothing less. He wanted to control his thoughts and feelings again, to be able to trust that his brain knew what he was doing.

Bucky realized he was wearing sweatpants and the t-shirt he had slept in, and quickly took a shower before he changed.

It was one of the days during which Steve worked on his freelance illustrator business, so he stopped by his office and quietly knocked on the doorframe. Steve took off his headphones and looked up, blinking like a confused bird.

“I'm going out. For coffee. Should be back by early evening.”

“Uh? Okay. Have fun?”

Bucky smiled. Steve was always too engrossed in his work when he was drawing. It took him minutes to snap out of it and get back to the real world.

“Yeah. Just wanted to warn you in case you started looking for me. Get back to work now.”

Steve mock-saluted him, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he walked away and closed the door behind him. The coffee place was twenty minutes away from the apartment he shared with Steve, but the bus was mostly empty and he found a seat easily. He thought he could feel gazes on him as he kept silent in his spot, but couldn't pinpoint where they were coming from. He kept his eyes on the doors.

The shakes in his leg started after ten minutes.

Stepping out of the bus felt like seeing the sky for the first time, and Bucky took a minute to collect himself before walking to the coffee shop only two streets away.

Clint was already there, his hair a mess, a band-aid on one of his cheeks and cradling a steaming cup in his hands. He was wearing a grey t-shirt with some kind of design on it that Bucky couldn't make out.

He walked in and made his way to Clint's table, trying not to fidget. His prosthetic felt awkward, and Bucky couldn't help but rub at the plastic wrist even though he knew it was fine.

Clint looked up and grinned at him. Bucky noticed dark circles under his eyes, but didn't feel comfortable asking about them.

“Hey, Bucky. Take a seat. Or do you want to order first? Sorry I didn't wait for you, I was kind of craving a fix...”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, but once again didn't comment. “I'll go order, give me a minute.” He took off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the chair before turning to the counter.

He could feel his body vibrate from anxiety and decided to ignore all types of coffee available and settle on a chai latte. He didn't have to wait more than a minute for his drink to be ready and gratefully took it back to the table.

Clint was staring out of the window, looking kind of distracted.

“Clint?” The other man didn't seem to react. “Hey?” Bucky said, a bit louder.

Clint jumped, and immediately turned to face him again. “Sorry.” He started scratching at his neck, right where Bucky had noticed that he had a scar. “I was kind of zoning out.”

“I would say. Are you okay?”

Clint seemed taken aback for a second, then shrugged. “Okay enough, I guess? I'm just tired, and I haven't seen a lot of people these past few days except for work so... yeah.”

“If you'd rather have some time for yourself, though...” Bucky started saying. Clint had been the one to invite him in the first place, but he had also said something about his friends pushing him to do it? Anyway, Bucky didn't want to be a bother or make him feel uncomfortable or like he owed him anything.

“Dude, chill,” Clint said, projecting calm. “You look like you're about to bolt. I'm fine. I just need a nice distraction, which is why I called you. Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn't want to talk about the paranoia and anxiety that seemed to cling to his skin since he had stepped on the bus. “Okay enough.” He smiled, surprised at how naturally the gesture came to him.

Clint laughed. “Look at us! What a pair. Speaking of which... How the fuck are your eyes so blue? I hadn't noticed it last time because it was so dark, but damn!” He whistled, grinning as he took another sip of his coffee. Bucky stared. There was no way the other man had actually just said that. Without a pause or the barest hint of self-consciousness. People didn't just say that. It didn't happen. Clint smiled.

“I'm pretty sure it's just genetics.” Bucky replied, carefully keeping a neutral expression. “That or my mother bathed me in the blood of innocents when I was a baby.”

Clint choked on his drink, and Bucky took a sip of his latte to hide both his laughter and his lingering embarrassment at the compliment. He wasn't really sure whether Clint was teasing or genuinely flirting, and had no idea how to ask without sounding either too eager or like an asshole. Especially since he had no idea what his own position was towards Clint. He barely knew the guy, sure, but he clearly remembered flirting with girls he barely knew before. It hadn't felt like this, though. Could Bucky be flirting without realizing? Was that even possible?

He chased the thoughts away. It didn't matter right now. He could think about it later, and still enjoy the present company and positive attention.

“I was not expecting that. But fair enough. So your mother is a witch?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling. “Not that I know of. We did have a black cat when I was a child though. But if I'm honest, my sister is probably the witch in our family. She definitely had her goth phase at least.”

Of course Esther would try to kill him if she heard him say this. That, or remark that he still wasn't out of his punk phase himself, which wasn't actually true, because punk wasn't a phase. Clint didn't have to know all that.

“Oh god. So, I have this friend, Kate? She's a few years younger than me, and I found some of her teenage pictures, and she was a total scene kid. Most hilarious thing I've ever seen. I still haven't found her old Myspace account, but I know it exists.”

“I'm pretty sure I still have a Myspace account floating around somewhere...”

Clint seemed genuinely taken aback by that. “Oh my god. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. You?”

“Twenty-nine. Thirty in like...” He scrunched up his face a little. “A month? But seriously. You had a Myspace?”

“Well, yeah. I was super into music. Still am, though I can't really play anymore – long story.” Bucky picked up his cup with his prosthetic hand, a nervous gesture that was probably drawing more unwanted attention to the thing but that he couldn't help. “So I got a Myspace.”

“God I feel old.” He drank another sip of coffee. “What kind of music?”

“Dude. You do not ask that question to someone who just told you they're really into music. It's a fucking rabbit hole. I will literally go on for hours if you let me.”

Clint shrugged. “Told you I needed a distraction.”

Bucky thought of the buzzing in his head that had been there since his bus journey. At least it had calmed down a little. Maybe he needed a distraction too.

He usually wasn't keen on talking about his passion with people who weren't also on board, because they tended not to understand. They would see it as misplaced dedication, energy he could put into something else, or downright disapprove of his choice of genres. Or simply become scared by the level of enthusiasm he could show.

“Okay. So I'm mostly into punk. A lot of classic 70's stuff. Not a big fan of The Clash. I know they're supposed to be this staple of the genre or whatever, but they're just not really my thing. I like a bit of Sex Pistols, though. Buzzcocks, X-Ray Spex, The Slits,... Classic stuff. Big fan of folk punk as well. Best friend got me into that. There's a lot of good new stuff in the genre. Like, you can still feel the DIY soul in a lot of it, but with additional mad skills on the acoustic guitar. I mean, it's just so annoying when people say that punk became too commercial, as if there's just one kind of punk music. Of course the things that are played on the radio are commercial, that's why they're on the radio. You can only get away with playing punk on mainstream shows if the song has become a classic already. So a lot of people think there's nothing new happening in the genre. But a lot of kids are still doing their thing and putting their stuff out there without making profit. So yeah. I also listen to some metal, some hardcore, a bit of old rock. And, well, jazz, I guess. My mom was a jazz fan. That's what I grew up on before I started my 'rebellious teenage phase' as she likes to call it. I'm not a connoisseur, but I still listen to what we used to play at home.” He looked up into Clint's eyes after finishing his tirade. The blond was staring back, almost empty mug of coffee in hand and an eyebrow rose. Bucky started scratching his neck. “You're lucky, dude. I gave you the very short version here.”

Clint let out a short puff of laughter and shook his head. “I promise I'm not laughing at you. It's just... Now that you mention it, I can totally see the teenage punk rocker in you. That, and how intense you got... It's just adorable.”

Bucky bent his head down slightly, letting his long hair hide the blush on his cheeks.

“Never would have pinned you as a mama's boy, though.”

Bucky shrugged. “I was always close to my mom and sister. My mom got a divorce from my dad when I was still really young and my sister a toddler. Apparently he was a drunk, or something. I never got the whole story from my mom. But we decided we only had each other, so we stuck together. And then my best friend's mom died, and we took him in too, kind of.”

Clint put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. “That sounds... nice, I guess.”

Bucky could feel some tension there, and was almost afraid to ask, but did anyway. If he kept on only dipping his toes, he would never actually learn to know the guy. “Not the best relationship with your own family?”

Clint laughed, in an open but bitter way. “Yeah, no. Parents died in a car crash when I was a kid. Went through foster care for a while. Then my brother turned 18 and somehow managed to get custody of me. I mean, foster care was awful. But my brother is an asshole. So, yeah.” He opened his arms in some kind of vaguely grand gesture. “This is the life-story of poor old me.”

“Are you really gonna call yourself old all the time just because I'm three years younger than you?”

Clint laughed again. “I'm old in the soul.”

“Right...” Bucky replied with a disbelieving raise of eyebrow. He took another sip of his chai latte. The atmosphere wasn't exactly awkward, but Bucky didn't know how to keep the conversation going, and he could feel Clint become distracted again. He wanted to talk about what had happened at the party they'd met. He wanted to mention his research on aromanticism, talk about it with Clint. But he had no idea how to bring up any of that without standing like a creep who also wanted a cookie for trying to be open-minded.

Bucky was suddenly reminded of why he wasn't good at one-on-ones. He just couldn't think of anything to say. If there had been a conversation going on around him, he would have been perfectly happy to lie back and listen in silence. But here, now, the silence felt like his personal responsibility. He was overthinking again.

Why did people talk about, when they didn't know each other? All the new acquaintances he had made in the last year had been friends of Steve, so he hadn't had to actually carry the conversation.

“So... um. You come here regularly?” He asked, internally flinching at how ridiculous it sounded.

Clint immediately focused back on him. He shrugged. “I guess. Like I told you, I know one of the baristas.” Clint turned slightly to look towards the counter, and pointed out one of the people behind it. The person has short dark hair and was currently frowning at the register. “That's Billy. Nice kid.”

Now that he thought about it, the young man's face felt kind of familiar. He seemed to be in his early twenties, definitely younger than Bucky.

“How do you know each other?”

“He's one of Kate's friends.” Clint frowned. “That sounded slightly pathetic. Now that I think about it, a lot of my friends are people I met through her. Or people from work. Kiiiind of sad.” He took a gulp of his drink, not really seeming bothered by his situation.

Bucky didn't know what to say to that, so he tried being honest. “I don't meet a lot of new people either these days, apart from my roommate's friends. So I guess we're kind of alike.”

“Oh. You live with someone?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. My best friend, I guess.” Steve was a hard person to define, at least in regards to himself. Their relationship had been through so many different changes, putting a word to it felt reductive somehow. Like it could never do justice to the concept it tried to express. “He's pretty much family. We first officially moved in together when he started college.”

“Officially moved in?”

Bucky tried not to let any of his thoughts show on his face. With a history as complicated as he and Steve's, there were a lot of things he couldn't disclose to the first stranger. As much because they weren't his to share as because he himself was uncomfortable with sharing them.

“He was kind of living with my family already before that. It's a long story. We met when we were like... eight. So we're kinda close.”

Clint whistled. Which was apparently also a thing that actual people – or at least Clint – did. “That's a long time, I'm impressed. I never really had such close childhood friends. And, like I said, my brother is a dick. I'm kind of jealous I guess.”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, I love him. I do. He's great and... I guess it's just nice that there's someone who's shared so much of my life, so much of who I've been through the years. And who still sticks around. But, like... It's a relationship. Like any relationship. We've had our ups and downs. Nobody will ever understand everything about you, you know?”

“Mmh.”

“But that's also a good thing. Discovering new things about each other. And still being there.”

Clint smiled softly. “Those sound like wise words. It does seem like you two get along really well.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” He felt the conversation come to a lull again, but this time he was himself more focused inwards than anything. He finished the last cold sips of his chai latte as Clint played with his own empty mug.

“Speaking of Steve-”

“Your roommate?” Clint interrupted, and Bucky realized he hadn't actually told him his name.

“Yeah. I think I'm gonna head back before he starts to worry. I told him I was leaving, but when he gets focused on his work he forgets literally everything, so if I stay away for more than two hours there's a chance he'll call the police and tell them I've been kidnapped.”

Clint laughed openly. “You know, I would never have thought you would be the kind of guy to use exaggerations like that. You seem a lot colder, when we don't know you.”

Bucky mustered up his best dead-eyed stare. He then raised an eyebrow. “You only think I'm exaggerating.” He immediately broke character, letting out a genuine smile. The whole routine earned him one more laugh from Clint. “We get a little protective about each other sometimes-” Bucky could feel the time when Steve hadn't been by his side like a physical void. He had felt so vulnerable then, not even because of the real danger, but because of the loneliness. “But that's just how things go with us.” “It sounds nice.”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess. I'll... I'll see you around? We could do this again, if work ever gets too much for you?”

Clint laughed. “Don't say that, or you'll be seeing me every day.”

“I've got nothing better to do, to be honest.”

“How come?” Clint asked.

It was much too long a story when he had just told the other man he was going to leave, so Bucky gave the short version. “I don't work. I don't study either. Basically I'm on indefinite medical leave, so my schedule is very flexible and mostly revolves around emptiness. So, yeah. Just text me if you ever need company?”

He stood up and grabbed his leather jacket. He stopped himself from flinching. He had made the whole thing sound so... civilian. Medical leave, instead of being discharged due to injury. Bucky felt like he had dust in his mouth.

“Will do. It was nice seeing you again, Bucky.”

“Yeah. Same for me. I'll talk to you soon.”

He gave a small and awkward wave which Clint returned with a smile, then turned away and walked out of the coffeeshop.

The air was much colder than when he had arrived, as dark clouds were now hiding the sun. Bucky could feel rain in the air and put his arms around himself as he waited for his bus.

[gracelessknights]

“I just want to do the right thing and what’s best for you.” “How would you know what’s best for me?” I asked sharply. “You’re not me. You have no right to make decisions for me.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I tell her. “There are millions of people who have had their mother die. You did, as well. I’m not so unique. We all get through it as best we can.”

And yes, his sex life is fairly shallow; he’s admitted as much. But he’s clearly intelligent and kind. Not the soppy sort of kindness that seems to be more about showing off than actual caring, but a quiet, unobtrusive thoughtfulness that’s unexpected and lovely.

“I love you too, baby,” she said. “I really do. I want you to be okay. The rest of your choices are up to you. I hope to God you make the right ones.”

“If you say you’re in love with him, then I believe you. Please understand, however, that at your age very few loves ever last. You don’t know if he’ll just decide to leave you one day. Keep that in mind, okay?”

“You have ten minutes,” he told me. “Ten minutes to think about what you did wrong and how bad you feel right now. Are you ready?”…“There. It’s over now,” he said. “Now you look forward and figure out how you’re going to get better.”

Anything is possible if you give it a chance

“They’re your family.” Hades laughed. “No. Goddess lesson number one: Fear the family.” “My mom—” “Was a wonderful mother to you, I’m sure. But she still lied and deceived you at every turn.” He waved off my protest. “Consider yourself lucky. Our father tried to eat us. We all grouped together and killed our parents. Instead of drawing us closer, we spent the next few millennia ripping each other apart. Families think they know what’s best for you. Your friends let you figure that out for yourself.”

I trust him to be true to his nature, you need to trust those around you will be true to their nature. Even when it may appear that they are betraying who they are.

Aim to be better not bitter.

Some things are out of our control,” he said. “We have to learn to accept and adapt.”

Why drown in love when you can have so much fun swimming around in lust?

Who better to parent you, than people who have had to persevered through their life.

Be a catalyst for change

My aunts said I was dreaming when I said I wanted words to be a career, but my mother kept quoting Picasso’s mother. “Picasso’s mother told him if he got into the army, he’d be a general. If he became a monk, he’d be the pope. Instead he was a painter and became Picasso. That’s exactly how I feel about you. So do, Rachel, what you love.”

Rise and rise again until lambs become lions.

Demographics are destiny.

“Devils don’t come from hell beneath us. No, they come from the sky.”

Goodnight. Travel well.

“It’s not torture. It’s not making things worse. It’s not horrible. It’s not a fucking mistake. Out of everything don’t you dare say it’s a mistake.”

Learn before you burn.

I don’t think it [love] is someone who sweeps you off your feet. I think it’s someone who stays right beside you and let’s you walk on your own.

We can only do want we know.

We can only practice what we understand and he neither understands this nor does he value it.

“…,Im fine.” “Until you’re not. Then what? What am I supposed to do,…? Do you have an answer for that?”

Intentions don’t bloody matter if the end result isn’t what you expected.

I feel like you have the best intentions but you’re just making one mistake after another.

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”

“I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.”

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.” ― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

“Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt.” ― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Of course it hurt that we could never love each other in a physical way. We would have been far more happy if we had. But that was like the tides, the change of seasons–something immutable, an immovable destiny we could never alter. No matter how cleverly we might shelter it, our delicate friendship wasn’t going to last forever. We were bound to reach a dead end. That was painfully clear.” ― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” ― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

“That’s what the world is , after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.” ― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.” ― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Most people are not looking for provable truths. As you said, truth is often accompanied by intense pain, and almost no one is looking for painful truths. What people need is beautiful, comforting stories that make them feel as if their lives have some meaning. Which is where religion comes from.” ― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

“It’s easy to forget things you don’t need anymore.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Instruction does much, but encouragement everything. ― Letter to A.F. Oeser, Nov. 9, 1768

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. ― Neil Gaiman, Coraline

You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. ― Christopher Columbus

Either you run the day, or the day runs you.                                                         ― Jim Rohn

What you plant today, you can harvest tomorrow.

The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.  ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is not about where you impart your views, it is about the message itself. Speeches made on on a table in the cafeteria can sometimes mean more than words said in an arena with roaring crowds.

It’s not just a word. It’s the weight of it.

It’s not a small thing to give up everything you’ve ever known. But it’s not a small thing to give up Emma, either. If there is even a slight possibility he can have them both—Emma and his heritage—then it’s certainly worth fighting for.

“If you ever get caught in the undertow,” he’d said, “just let it take you. Just let it pull you right out. Whatever you do, don’t fight it and waste your energy and oxygen. That’s how people die. The people who don’t die wait it out. The undertow lets go eventually, right when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer. You just have to be patient.”

I wonder if other mothers feel a tug at their insides, watching their children grow up into the people they themselves wanted so badly to be. ― Jodi Picoult, Keeping Faith

You’ll never know your limits until you push yourself to them.

He - and if there is a God, I am convinced he is a he, because no woman could or would ever fuck things up this badly. ― George Carlin

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself. ― Neil Gaiman

You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun. ― Shaun Hick

Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily. ― François de La Rochefoucauld

Do not sit still; start moving now. In the beginning, you may not go in the direction you want, but as long as you are moving, you are creating alternatives and possibilities.’ ― Rodolfo Costa, Advice My Parents Gave Me: and Other Lessons I Learned from My Mistakes

It is never too late to be what you might have been. ― George Elliot.

Being there for someone when they need you, that’s all relationships are. ― That Awkward Moment.

Remember: It costs nothing to encourage an artist, and the potential benefits are staggering. A pat on the back to an artist now could one day result in your favorite film, or the cartoon you love to get stoned watching, or the song that saves your life. Discourage an artist, you get absolutely nothing in return, ever. ― Kevin Smith, Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good

Thankfully, persistence is a great substitute for talent. ― Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life

Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be. ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

When you put effort into your self and people will put effort into you

We find comfort in those who agree with us - growth among those who don’t. ― Frank Clark

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition. ― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. ― Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. ― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain. ― Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now

You wanna make a splash? Part the Red Sea.                                                       ― Harvey Spector

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.                                                            ― Mahatma Gandhi

Silence only perpertuates more silence

“Jesus, you’re so bloody…forward.” “You don’t get anywhere in life by going backward.”

I know that this woman isn’t just a prostitute, she is an heir. I know that this precious woman is a princess and was worth the King of kings to die for her. I know that she is worth more than $20 dollars for 4 hours and that she is treasured beyond belief. I know that she is valued and loved to an extent I will only know in heaven.                                                                                               (A Christian article I read a while back)

I’ve learnt that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel                                               ― Maya Angelou

Name one thing you can’t live without. Emma Stone: Love. In whatever form it takes.

It would make more sense to have birth control for men because .. There’s a better chance to shoot on an empty gun than to shoot a bullet proof vest.

Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.

i’m still not sorry but I understand.

Don’t wait for the future. it’s all hit or miss

Do what you can for as long as you can

Visual escapes are crucial only due to the psychological factor it pertains

I love my community so i wanna help it

Education should never have a political agenda.

“She stared into the fire for some time, thinking about what she had in her life, and what she had given up; and whether it would be worse to love someone who was no longer there, or not to love someone who was.”                                  ― Neil Gaiman

As for courage and will- we cannot measure how much of each lies within us; we can only trust there will be sufficient to carry us through the trials which may lie ahead. ― Andre Norton

A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt as dangerous. ― Alfred Adler

Is the holocaust an aberration or reflection of who we really are. 

I found myself surrounded by people who celebrated intellectualism and engagement and who thought that my ironic oh so cool disengagement wasn’t clever or funny but like it was a simple and unspectacular response to complicated and compelling problems.                                                                   ― John green

Just because you’ve done something throughout your life, it doesn’t let you off the hook for it. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. Stop using familiarity as an excuse.

You’re doing what you can and that’s all that matters.

Treat yourself like you would treat a small child.

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over again.                                                                                                ― F Scott Fitzgerald

“I don’t know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream”

The only thing you need to do anything is the time and motivation

Adjust your sails according to the wind

“Then suck it up, take responsibility for your own mess. And get your head back in the game. ”

Learn something with the intention of teaching it.

You’re the only person who has control over who you become.

Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

‘When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow’

“Need covers itself with love … but need is never love. Always beware of the one who needs you. There is always a want behind a need, you see”   ― J Lynn Armentrout

“If you’re not scared, then you’re not taking a chance. And if you’re not taking a chance, what the hell are you doing anyway!” ― Ted Mosby

This is the problem I have with religion, people do too may things in the name of belief, or worse use it to prevent others from exploring external possibilities.

So here’s my advice study broadly and without fear. Be vigilant in the struggle towards empathy ― John Green

Being afraid isn’t a weakness, Alex. It’s only a sign of something you must overcome.” ― J Lynn Armentrout

“We would all believe in God if he served our every whim. Belief is not about an easy life. Belief is soemthing you have regardless.”

“Sit down, take a deep breath. And let mommy take care of it… just like she always does.”

Small mishaps don’t count a fuckups by the way -me

It’s not a problem, its challenge

Take the game seriously, but remember it’s just a game

“Even when you grow up and move away, its important to come home. Ok?”

It doesn’t get easier… it gets manageable.

Don’t set off running unless you can see the finish line.

Are you strong enough to carry your secrets

Escape-based choices are almost always disastrous, because they solve only half the problem. Target-based decisions at least have a shot at being successful, so keep that in mind every time you have a significant choice to make. Don’t be pushed away from what you don’t want; let yourself be pulled toward what you do want. I’m not saying your end goals can’t change—of course they might. But don’t tell yourself, “So what if this isn’t what I’d hoped for? Heck, it beats what I’ve got.” You deserve better.

Understand that there are no “wrong” decisions.

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences. ― Robert Green Ingersoll

“The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Clarity and focus doesn’t always come from God or inspirational quotes. Usually, it takes your mother to slap the reality back into you. ― Shannon L. Alder

The mother memories that are closest to my heart are the small gentle ones that I have carried over from the days of my childhood. They are not profound, but they have stayed with me through life, and when I am very old, they will still be near … Memories of mother drying my tears, reading aloud, cutting cookies and singing as she did, listening to prayers I said as I knelt with my forehead pressed against her knee, tucking me in bed and turning down the light. They have carried me through the years and given my life such a firm foundation that it does not rock beneath flood or tempest. ― Margaret Sanger

It really takes the pressure off if you understand that every experience you have, whether you characterize it as “good” or “bad,” is exactly the experience you need to have at that moment. Some choices may lead to more painful lessons than others, but living life in fear of living life is no way to live.

When I was trying to decide whether or not to go on my trip, I had a friend who flipped a coin and made me commit to the outcome. Life involves some risk. Flip the coin and see where it leads you.

William Parrish: I thought I was going to sneak away tonight. What a glorious night. Every face I see is a memory. It may not be a perfectly perfect memory. Sometimes we had our ups and downs. But we’re all together, and you’re mine for a night. And I’m going to break precedent and tell you my one candle wish: that you would have a life as lucky as mine, where you can wake up one morning and say, “I don’t want anything more.” Sixty-five years. Don’t they go by in a blink?”                                                                                                     ―Meet Joe Black

William Parrish: I want you to know how much I love you, that you’ve given a meaning to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.

Susan Parrish: Dad…

William Parrish: No! I love you so much. And I want you to promise me something. I don’t want you to ever worry about me. And if anything should happen, I’m gonna be okay. And everything’s gonna be all right. And I have no regrets. And I want you to feel the same way.

Susan Parrish: I love you, Daddy.

William Parrish: That’s why it’s okay.

―Meet Joe Black

[Watching the fireworks above the party before they depart]

William Parrish: It’s hard to let go, isn’t it?

Joe Black: Yes it is, Bill.

William Parrish: And that’s life… what can I tell you.

―Meet Joe Black

Joe Black: I don’t care Bill. I love her.

William Parrish: How perfect for you - to take whatever you want because it pleases you. That’s not love.

Joe Black: Then what is it?

William Parrish: Some aimless infatuation which, for the moment, you feel like indulging - it’s missing everything that matters.

Joe Black: Which is what?

William Parrish: Trust, responsibility, taking the weight for your choices and feelings, and spending the rest of your life living up to them. And above all, not hurting the object of your love.

Joe Black: So that’s what love is according to William Parrish?

William Parrish: Multiply it by infinity, and take it to the depth of forever, and you will still have barely a glimpse of what I’m talking about.

Joe Black: Those were my words.

William Parrish: They’re mine now.

―Meet Joe Black