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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #Bruce Banner fluff #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #Stephen Strange x y/n #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #bun writes #party favours #IN THIS HOUSE WE PROTECT PETER PARKER WITH OUR LIVES AND FACES

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

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my heart went with you | b.b.

summary: a tale as old as time: the charming boy and the golden girl he could never get, and how they spent their last days together.

WARNINGS: fluff, love, angst, mentions: war and death, nudity, swearing pairing: 40s!bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: written as a lil snapshot about some unspoken love and rivalry. for @ussgallifreyfics, my prompt was you’ll never know by vera lynn. i really love writing some soft tenderness so enjoy!!

“Buck.”

The man standing before the tombstone looks up, over his shoulder, to Steve.

“We need to get back before it gets dark.”

And then he smiles, hands shoved in his pockets and starts heading towards his friend. Slinging an arm around Steve’s skinny shoulders, he does nothing more than knuckle the blond’s head. Steve winches, punching him in the gut and Bucky laughs, stumbling away as they pass the iron-wrought gates of the cemetery.

“Jus’ wanted to say my goodbyes,” Bucky says, adjusting his jacket as they head up the street back towards Steve’s place. His best friend sweeps his hair out of his face, cheeks already burning in the dusk and Bucky’s smile softens for him. “Y’know your ma was the best thing.”

“I know.” At that, Steve seems to stand a little straighter and Bucky’s grin grows.

“C’mon. Let’s get something to eat before I’m stuck with chewin’ on boiled leather boots.”

“Maybe Becca’ll make you a few sandwiches to take overseas,” Steve mutters. Bucky shakes his head, lifting his chin to the wind. It smells rich of summer, clean and light in the dying sun, and Bucky feels a bit empty as he turns his gaze to his best friend.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The rest of the walk to the little diner by a construction site, and Bucky walks in to see a few tables full, and a few of the stools occupied.

“Bucky!”

His name catches his attention and he spots a redhead waving with a smile. Steve hides his grin as they head towards her, and Bucky can’t help but notice when Dot’s smile grows at the sight of Steve.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Dolores,” the blond man mumbles, sliding into a stool while Bucky sits down between them. “You here alone?”

“Oh, no. My friend’s just gotten some news so Joe let her out back. How are you, Bucky?” Dolores chews on her bottom lip, stirring her milkshake absently as her round eyes gaze at him. “I heard… you’re joining the boys in England.”

“Shipping off in a few days, actually,” he says with a slight smile just as a door swings open.

“James.”

Bucky’s eyes close.

Oh, how much he utterly despises that voice. The sound of his old top rival at school, the girl with the infuriatingly cool smile, the clever glint in her eyes. Prettiest, smartest, nearly the most athletic.

Almost perfect.

It’s like a cold wind washes into the diner as he plants his hands on the counter and twists around with an arched eyebrow.

You stand before him in a green dress, eyes effortlessly cool, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. You look gorgeous.

Not that Bucky would ever admit that to your face.

“Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

He doesn’t say you’re perfect because if there’s one thing he hates about you, it’s… you.

“Hello, James.” You flash him a wry smile before turning to Steve. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

Your smile softens, and Bucky feels a flare of irritation lick at his insides at the way your expression seems genuine, sitting on the opposite side of Dot with an envelope. Your best friend places a gentle hand on yours, and the corner of Bucky’s lips pinch when he notes the slight tremble of your hand reaching for your own milkshake.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing at the envelope and you smile guiltily, placing a hand over a stamp.

“My forms,” you say quietly. “I’m being shipped off in a few days.”

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart to Bucky’s face but the blue-eyed soldier is too busy scrutinizing your face. You don’t say anything, simply sip on the straw between red-painted lips as Dot wedges the envelope out from underneath your elbow and pry it open.

Dot purses her lips in a frown as she reads through the forms, her hand coming to your shoulder but you plaster a smile onto your face even though Bucky can see through the cracks of your mask. Your eyes flit to his as if you realize he’s staring and the smile melts away.

Something cold slithers into his gut at the thought of you on the front lines beside him.

He notes that when you think no one’s looking, your mask seems to slip. You catch him staring more than once, but you don’t say anything besides point out that there’s ketchup at the corner of his mouth.

He notices you smile little.

He doesn’t mean to notice things about you, but as they sit on the edge of the pier, Bucky can’t help but notice that about you. Steve had offered to walk Dot back home (or she was walking him home, you had muttered under your breath) and that left the two of you to walk the wharf because really, neither of them wanted to go home yet.

Bucky didn’t want to miss a second of his city. He wants to stay out as long as he can, take it all in before it’s too late.

The water is calm, lapping at the wood, and it smells like sea-salt and adventure on the wind. It sneaks into his lungs, makes him light-headed with a kind of childish innocence he can’t recall feeling before. Your legs swing, barefoot against the breeze, and his sleeves are rolled up as he glances at the sinking sun.

It’s barely gone before a chillier gale sweeps through the pier and he sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye.

The silence that has fallen over the two of you for what feels like hours now doesn’t need to be broken. He doesn’t believe you’re keen on talking as he grabs his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly.

You don’t protest, your eyes on the distant horizon.

Instead, you reach up to tug the lapels close around your neck and when the pads of your digits brush against his, he feels something inside him twist. Stomach in knots, he looks down at the murky depths.

This is how it has been for years now. He’ll catch you alone, and they’d sit together for hours. On the bus, in the park.

He doesn’t like you, but he knows it’s partially his fault, and your silence is honey to his bitter tea.

“I think we’re going to die,” you say at last, voice startlingly quiet in the night. Your chin is lifted as he looks at you, and there’s a soft, bitter smile on your lips as a breeze plays against your cheek, with the strands of your hair. You don’t look at him, and lean into the wind.

Bucky has half the mind to bar you from leaning any further in case you fall into the chilling water.

You look at him, lips barely parted, and swallow the same hard knot in his throat.

“What makes you say that?” he asks.

“My daddy was in the first war,” you remind him, and Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek as your gaze drifts again. You’re thinking about him, thinking hard enough he can hear the gears grinding in your head. “He’s never been—was never the same when he came back. .”

It’s not that Bucky’s never thought about death.

It’s that he refuses to.

He won’t think about an empty tomb until he has to.

“Yeah, I know,�� is his gentle reply.

The water crushes gently beneath their feet and the darkness falls slowly, a gentle cascade into midnight ink as the world around them begins to die. Warm, orange sunlight is replaced with gauzy yellow streetlight and there’s the sound of people yelling their goodnights as they close up shop.

He leans back on his hands, lets his legs swing freely as he listens to some seagull call in the distance.

“I think I’m scared to die,” you say. Your words are nearly lost in the wind, but Bucky hears you clear as a church prayer. He pushes forward and gently places a hand atop yours along the wooden planks. You don’t react to his touch, and he closes his eyes, leaning tentatively until his forehead pushes against your cheek.

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret into your skin, and you turn to look at him at last, eyes glazed and distant, but present enough to see him. He lifts his chin to soak in your face, the silver light playing with the shadows on your face. Your eyes are enough to reflect the moon as he looks into your gaze, and he feels like he’s drowning in your depths before he blinks, inhaling sharply.

The bitter bite of cold wind in his chest snaps him out of his trance and he clears his throat, drawing his hand away from yours.

“It’s getting too late,” he says, ignoring the smallest of frowns pulling at your cheeks as you pull his jacket tighter around your shoulders. “I should get you back home.” Getting up, he brushes off his bum and turns to you, extending a hand. You don’t move, and his brow wrinkles as he steps closer to the edge. “Doll…”

“I don’t want to go home.”

Falling into a crouch beside you, Bucky rests gentle hands on your shoulders and you seem to shiver underneath his palms as you turn to him, eyes glassy.

“She’ll hate me. My mom will hate me for enlisting, James,” you whisper as you twist to face him fully. “But we need the money. We need the money, and—”

“Your sister is just old enough to begin working,” he finishes. You nod shakily and he sighs, hand flitting around your face. He’s unsure of how to touch you, if you’d even let him, and he settles on tracing the curve of your cheek as he sighs. Mind churning, he simply watches as you close your eyes, diamond tears dripping against his fingers, and he wipes them away with gentle thumbs. Your cheeks are being to freeze in his palms, and he puts on a smile, a small one but one nonetheless as your eyes open again.

“I don’t want to go home, James,” you whisper, crushed and he chews on his bottom lip.

“Come on.” Pulling back, he grabs your hands and he’s surprised by how quickly your fingers wrap around his as he gets you to your feet. You let him drag you away from the waters, his coat swaying on your shoulders “I know where we can go.”

“Why here?” you ask, your hands wrapped around the chains as Bucky kicks off the dirt. He fights off the chill trying to sneak into his guts as you fiddle with his coat buttons. He’s managed to persuade you to actually put it on. “It’s actually kind of… strange to be here.”

“You’ve never been in a playground after dark?” he teases, getting off his swing and walking around you. You lean back to keep your eyes on him and he can’t help the fluttering smile playing on his cheek.

“No, because this is trespassing.”

“Live a little.”

“I know you and your friends would always sneak in. Heard it from all my friends,” you comment with a roll of your eyes. “They thought you were all so cool.”

“It was always Steve’s idea. They were always welcome to join us. So were you.”

“Well, I was at home or at tennis practice, and Daddy always used to pick me up before…” You clear your throat. “Anyway, no. I wouldn’t have.” You swing your legs back, gaining a bit of momentum and he smiles. He remembers when all he would do was spend afternoons here, watching Steve swing beside you, fingers outstretched and barely brushing.

How envious he had been at your shrieking laughter. The nasty pout that’d settle on his lips.

To be a boy again.

“Well, we have a whole night to waste away,” he says, grabbing onto one of the swing chains and pulling you to a jerking halt. Your seat twists, twirling in half-circles as you lower your feet to the ground and lean forward, arms linked by the elbows on the chain. “And I thought we could bend the laws a little.”

“The whole night,” you repeat, bemused, and your eyebrow twitches up when he grins. “I have to get home at some point.”

“Don’t worry. There aren’t any big bad wolves out here.”

“What are you gonna do? Fight ‘em off?” you sneer and he huffs.

“I’ll protect you. Obviously.”

“I’m sure my mother will thank you,” you retort. “What do you have in mind?”

“So the good girl does have a trouble-making side.”

“Well, it seems my last few days on this side of the ocean are with you,” you reply, standing up suddenly and Bucky backs up when your face comes barely an inch from his. Eyebrows rising in surprise, his eyes widen as you dust off the back of your dress and adjust his jacket on your shoulders. It looks good on you. “What does Brooklyn’s Bad Boy know?”

“A lot more than you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Do you remember this playground?”

“Well, I did just say you and Steve would trespass.”

“I mean, do you remember what it means for us,” he emphasizes and you brush past him, fingers wrapping around the pole as you walk around, soaking in the sight of the barren place. No laughing children, no berating teachers. Nothing but Bucky’s heart and your tiny sigh.

“I saw you walk your sister home from here once,” you offer with half a shrug. “You saw me and crossed the road just so we wouldn’t cross paths. And there,” you say, pointing at the see-saw, “is where we sat together once in the rain. I think you were waiting out here in the cold. I felt pity so I sat beside you until Rebecca had finished school.” You grin, your features softening as you drag your gaze from the see-saw to Bucky himself, and he’s confused at the heat that floods his chest.

There is no indignant spark, no triumphant gleam in your gaze. Just you.

“That’s when I knew you were stubborn as they come. The ‘thank you’ you gave me sounded like someone pulled it outta you, but… you said thank you.” Then, your lips curl and you blink innocently at him.

“I don’t recall that.”

“Yes, of course you don’t. You don’t remember a thing that paints you in a bad light.” Your eyes twinkle with mischief, eyebrows rising as you turn away and he walks after you, words nipping at his lips.

“Alright, and you. What about you?” Bucky taps his chin, pretending to ponder but one moment sticks out to him anyway. “As your chemistry partner, I remember saving you once or twice from nearly burning your skin off.”

“And as your biology partner, I remember dissecting the frog while you excused yourself to the bathroom.”

“Then, it’s good we’re not scientists.”

“Good.”

“Good!”

Silence.

This is why they bode better in silence.

Bucky doesn’t understand how they can argue, disagree, spat over the most mundane things, but they do.

You turn away, arms wrapped around your middle as you walk to the hopscotch square and walk the lines drawn into the pavement.

“Well.” There’s an odd pause when Bucky clamps his mouth shut because he doesn’t know what he is going to say next, and you turn around to stare at him oddly, waiting for what comes next. “Well.”

“Well,” you repeat expectantly, and his mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Well, maybe we oughta stop arguing if we’re spending the night together.”

“Do you have to word it like that?” Bucky shoots you a look, and your shoulders slump as you sigh. “I’m sorry. I agree. I’m done quarreling. And to be honest, it’s draining, though I never figured out why you hated me.”

“To be honest, doll,” he sighs, “I don’t know either. It’s just been that way for so long, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Although I know what contributed to my end of this animosity was your proclivity to hover around me.”

“Well, I never could stay away. Seems everywhere you went, I was there somehow, too,” he mumbles and your face softens as you let your arms drop. Approaching him slowly, your eyes do not stray from his face as you flatten your palm against his shirt. You’re warm over his heart, and he wonders if you can feel his heart beat in his chest as you take care to make sure he looks into your eyes.

“Maybe it was because of Steve,” you say curiously, your fingers playing with the button along the seam. “I know you’re protective over him and us being friends… I never set out to despise the school’s golden boy.”

He finds nothing sour in your gaze, nothing harsh, nothing trembling or bleeding. Maybe time heals all wounds. Maybe it just scars ‘em over.

“And I remember the boys hating how much I hated you.” Placing his own hand atop of yours, he studies your expression, the way your eyebrows seem to twitch. He hasn’t been this close to you ever. Not on purpose.

Even in the silences before, they knew to keep their distance.

“I guess you were just so perfect and smart and Steve seemed to liked you more than he liked me sometimes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Everyone liked you.”

“Everyone liked you, too,” you argue. “When you were elected prom king was the worst moment of my night.”

“Only because you were elected prom queen and hated being near me.” He grins when you laugh, your gaze falling to the small distance between them before your eyes find his again, bright with mirth, and his own smile flickers. “I dunno if I got jealous, but I knew I could count on you to challenge me, to distract me from whatever else is going on. You make me righteously angry, but you were also�� my companion in a way.” His heart is hammering in his chest as you search his gaze and he wonders when he stopped finding the way you glare irritating and more… beautiful. “I dunno when you became more than that.”

“More?” The word falls gently from your lips and your hand slips from his as you back away. Gates rise before your heart, and he swallows as your gaze searches his. “As if.”

“I never once backed down from a fight for your honour,” he points out and you wrinkle your nose, the uneasiness in your gaze melting away as you turn to the hopscotch again.

“Oh, I know. You punched Barry Turner when you heard he kept touching me.”

“You heard about that?”

“News traveled fast at school.”

“Just like how I heard you slapped Macy Middleton in the gym.”

“She kept spreading rumours about you.” You shake your head. “Rumours Steve told me you hated.” Bucky scoffs and your voice rises in defense. “I tried to tell her to stop, and then she called me a gold digging bitch who only acted like I wasn’t sucking your cock every night.” Eyes widening, Bucky shakes out the feeling crawling down his spine at the mental image flashing in his head as you chuckle.

“Vulgar.” “You’d be surprised by how vulgar dames can be when we’re angry,” you reply easily, shoving your hands in the pockets of his jacket as you whirl around in the empty playground. You are so free like this, bathed in nothing but the faint streetlight and Bucky can’t help but follow, entranced. “Where’re we off to next, anyhow? The night is still young.”

“Tomorrow we could see the fireworks on Coney Island, but for now, maybe some we could invade a cemetery to hunt ghosts, or go nude swimming at the beach…” he trails off intentionally, and laughs when he spots your expression. It’s almost stricken, definitely shocked. You turn your face away and his expression softens when you begin to walk away. Half-jogging to catch up to you, he falls into step beside you. “Unless you don’t wanna go swimming. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

You stop suddenly and he halts as well, jarringly and cheeks burning but he’s not sure if it’s from shame or from the cold.

And then you turn to him, and your eyes are dancing from glee, and his eyebrows knit together as you burst out laughing.

It’s so loud he’s sure it’ll wake those sleeping in the buildings nearby as you cover your face with your hands. You try to catch your breath, and Bucky runs a hand through his hair, confused.

“James Barnes, flustered. I thought I’d never see the day,” you finally wheeze, clapping him on the shoulder before continuing on the walkway. Bucky’s mouth drops open as he stares after you. “Let’s go. If we’re going swimming, we should grab some towels and head down to the beach.” Flicking your wrist, you gesture for him to follow.

And he does.

He realizes he’d go anywhere you’d ask him to.

Bucky sneaking into his house to grab some linen and even a bottle from his mother’s prized collection was not on his list for the night.

But it has made him a subject to your constant teasing, which he can’t complain about.

He hasn’t truly recognized what he’s doing until they’re on the beach already, shoes kicked off and toes sinking into the still-warm sand.

Untucking his shirt, he begins to unbutton it as you walk to a spot along the shore, putting down the linen and the bottle of whiskey. Carefully undoing the buttons of his jacket, you glance back at him as he approaches, and the moonlight carves into your face elegantly.

There’s an intensity, a heat that fills the silence as he pulls open his shirt and begins to unbuckle his belt. You slowly shed his jacket and fold it over your arm, setting it beside the towels and there’s a fire that burns as your eyes trail up his chest, up to his eyes only to find him already staring.

His heart is melting in his chest, nothing more than an inferno that singes his lungs as you begin to unbutton the front of your dress.

Movements are slow as honey, sure, but purposeful. The way he slides the suspenders off his showers, the gentle flick of your wrist as you undo the button, and Bucky watches as your fingers slip through fabric. His throat is drier than the hottest day in Brooklyn, and his tongue flickers out to wet his lips as you tear your gaze away to focus on undressing.

Words bundle up in his throat, and he glances out to the ocean, ever moving and gleaming silver. The water ripples like silk, the foamy crush seeping into the pale sand.

“James.” Your voice is softer than thunder as he looks to you, and he swallows a thick knot in his throat when he sees the front of your dress wide open. His gaze stays on your face as he pulls his belt out from the loops.

“If you’re uncomfortable…”

“No. It’s okay.” I trust you. “And you?”

“I’m good.”

You let the dress fall in a crumpled heap around your legs. Gooseflesh begins to rise along his arms as he does the same with his shirt, and it’s almost intimate the way they undress underneath lunar glow.

He pulls off his pants, you unwind your girdle and unclasp your bra.

He steps out of his underwear and so do you, and it is breathless the way heat sucks into his lungs. His chest is cloudy, stuffed, and he cannot help but feel lightheaded as he struggles to take a breath. His hands curl into fists as he resists the urge to brush hair away from the slope of your shoulder.

He silently asks a question.

And then, you, with the tiniest dip of your chin, consent.

His eyes roam, as do yours, and it is almost like he is in another plane of existence as he trails past your breasts, down to your legs and up again. His stomach flips and his lips part as he watches your chest rise and fall with your breathing, admires the pouch of your stomach that’s so often hidden away.

Despite what you put on, you’re just as soft as anyone. Just as human.

When eyes meet again, it is like something clicks.

He sticks out your hand, silently asking you to take it.

Your palm slots against his like it is meant to be.

It is an awakening. A rebirth, almost.

A clean slate.

They wade in the ocean until their fingers prune and they are aching for something more than just salt water and cold waves.

The hours after the swim is just as quiet, just as reverent in its motion, as they lie on a towel. Another is draped over your body. Bucky, the same, salt water clinging to his hair and skin.

Somehow, they are sweating despite the frigid waters.

“I know I said I am afraid to die,” you say as they stare up at the stars. His whole body is humming with burning blood. “But more than that, I’m afraid of the fear. If that makes sense.”

Bucky turns his head to look at you, commit the profile of your face to his memory as you look at him as well. Salt water glimmers along your cheek as the corner of your mouth simply tugs up in a sad smile.

“I understand,” he whispers. “I feel like it’ll paralyze me. It does, just imagining it.”

“Exactly.” You turn your gaze to the stars again. The whiskey is half empty between the two of you, and it warms the blood in his veins as Bucky feels the back of your hand brush his. His whole body is strung out on electric wire, and his hand alights, every finger tingling. “Do you think we’ll be staring at the same stars?” you ask.

“I sure hope so,” he says. “Maybe we’ll be somewhere close.”

You exhale, long and heavy through your nose. “I hope so, too.” You adjust the towel on your chest as you drag your feet against the linen underneath your back. “Did you ever… I mean…”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never been naked with a man before,” you say, rolling onto your side, one hand clutching the towel to your chest and he glances at you, his blue gaze downy soft as he traces the slope of your nose with his eyes. “Much less go swimming nude with one.”

“Who would have thought?” he murmurs and your smile grows, eyes fluttering down, away from his face and then back again. “I’m glad you trust me, now.”

“Oh, I think I’ve always trusted you,” you whisper, breath tickling his lips. He can taste the liquor on your tongue as he gently inclines his head towards you. Noses nearly brush and he begins to smile. “Thank you… for this. For everything.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s done nothing except bring you nude swimming at the beach, but it feels wrong to say so, so he simply replies, “You’re welcome.” Then, more genuine: “Thank you for indulging me. It’s not every night I’m here with my supposed archenemy,” he teases and you chuckle deep in your chest. At least you’re not too somber to laugh.

“It was nice,” you assure him quietly. “It’s different when I’m with you.” Your hand goes from your chest to his shoulder, tracing invisible shapes and marking them into his skin. He nearly shivers at your touch, but maybe it’s the cold. “You’re not afraid of the quiet.”

It’s like I can be myself.

Bucky wonders if the fire in his chest is from the alcohol or something else as your fingers slowly interlace with his.

The days pass by in glances, fleeting touches. In bright sparks, sunny days, movie theatres.

You smile more with every waking moment Bucky spends with you.

If Steve notices anything, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom last minute before the movie starts, prompting you to sit beside Bucky in the dark for two hours.

It is that day he realizes you don’t like horror pictures, and the day after he learns you adore science films. More parts of you unveil themselves, just like how he discovers you enjoy hotdogs on Coney Island the night they watch fireworks together and how you can weave flower crowns with practiced fingers when they spend an afternoon with Ma and Becca.

It is almost like he’s known you his whole life.

He asks if you want to go to the Stark Expo. He doesn’t imply that it is a date, and by the innocent quirk of your eyebrows, you don’t think of it as such.

You say yes, and spend the whole night by his side.

“James.”

Your voice is lit with surprise, brilliant in its loudness and he turns to where you’re wading through the crowd. You’re darling in your nurse’s outfit and he almost blushes when your dancing eyes find his.

Matched with your morning smile, he can’t help but smile himself.

There’s a somberness to you, though, that he wonders if only he can see as Rebecca pushes past him and throws her arms around you.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here on time,” his sister says and you smile, patting the girl’s back. “How was the Stark Expo? Was there really a flying car?”

“It was a nice night out. But, what are you doing here, Rebecca?” you ask, bemused, and his sister’s shoulders rise and fall innocently as she turns back to Bucky. Your eyes find his and he half-smiles as if to apologize, but you shake your head minutely. “I thought you said only your mother was seeing you off.”

“Well, Bucky said you wouldn’t have anyone throwing you a farewell party and I thought I ought to join,” Rebecca says, her lips curling into a smirk. “Bucky talks a lot about you.”

“Oh, do you?” you mutter warily, eyeing Bucky who is shooting daggers at his sister. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or does he only complain?” The corner of your mouth quirks up as you look at Bucky and he rolls his eyes.

“Well, before it used to be complaining. It’s much nicer now.”

“I assume it’s about our science classes together.” You’ll never let that go and Bucky snorts, trying to cover up his amusement. “Although, seeing as he’s going off a soldier, he seems to manage just fine without me, now.”

“No, I don’t.” The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop it, and a silence falls between them. You stare at him, trying to decipher what lays in his face, and he gazes, embarrassed, into the depths of your irises. Your lips part as if you want to say something, but the words seemed to have dissipated in the wake of his response, and his hands curl into fists in an attempt to stop himself from touching you somehow.

Make everything worse, anyhow.

“Can we have a moment alone?” you ask quickly, clearing your throat with raised eyebrows. Rebecca, tucking a curl behind her ear, glances from Bucky to you, before smirking and nodding emphatically.

Bucky internally sighs.

Can his sister make herself anymore obvious?

Turning to their mother who had watched the whole debacle just occur with amusement, Rebecca loops her arm around hers. “C’mon, Ma. We should… head over there. Look at the ships,” she suggests and Winnifred huffs a smile. Catching your eyes, his mother rises an incredulous eyebrow and your mouth drops open when his mother wraps you in a warm embrace,

“Stay safe on that side, dear. I would love to get to know you once you come home from the war,” she says. You seem to soften in his mother’s arms before she pulls back and then Rebecca throws herself at you. You catch her, of course, and your eyes flutter shut.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” Rebecca murmurs into your neck and you gently run a hand down her back, sweet smile upon your lips. “You better come back and marry Bucky,” she adds fiercely and Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to conceal the heat that flushes over his entire body as you open your eyes and look at him. Your face is set in stone, serious as a librarian during exams, and you study him, the blush pooling in his cheeks despite the cold wind.

“We’ll be back, and you will be our chief wedding planner,” you say, drawing back and the air in Bucky’s lungs disappears. “I promise.”

You’re magic, that way. You manage to make him feel these things he doesn’t understand are possible.

He can’t breathe, his heart beating in his head and throat and everywhere. You’ve captured him in your gaze and even when you look away, his body struggles to work. Unblinking, he watches your mouth move but he can’t hear a thing. Everything is white noise and he cannot see anything in this crowd except for you.

Throat dry, he feels the last bit of air left in his chest escape in the softest of sighs before a hand settles on his shoulder and he flinches to see his mother smirking at him.

“Ma,” he breathes, shoulders dropping. His heart is racing in his chest, bouncing on the walls of his ribs. “You scared me.”

“You let your guard down around her,” she says with a shrug as if to say she’s not to blame.

“What are you talking about, Ma?” He struggles to keep his tone non-confrontational but he doesn't understand why he’s so defensive. Is he worse around you? Better? And has he just found you just to die battlefields apart?

“Oh, I’ve never seen a girl make you quite so flustered. Normally, it’s the other way around.”

“She just gets under my skin. I don’t like her that way,” he lies, shaking the feeling out of his jacket but it still lingers at the nape of his neck, a wriggling, tickling sensation.

“In my experience, it’s the ones who challenge you that are the ones you can’t let escape.” His mother cocks her head, eyes narrowed in an emotion Bucky can’t decipher before she turns to pry Rebecca off you. “Let’s go, Becca. We’ll see Bucky before he boards.”

“I’ll come find you,” he promises, and you wave to his family as they sink into the crowd, your eyes warm and empty with realization.

This is it.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he shuffles closer to you, catching your attention again.

“Marry me?” he repeats fondly, and you smirk, the hollowness abating you for just a moment. Bucky wonders if it’s the same for you. If he makes you forget the way you do for him. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“Well, we have to give her sister what she wants, don’t we?” He chuckles and your smile is a flimsy thing before your face turns serious again. “And I don’t hate you,” you whisper, your body stiff in the cold dawn, and he adjusts the nurse’s cap on your head before thumbing over your cheek. You melt into him, shoulders falling and eyebrows knitting together, and you don’t smile, but he can read it all in your eyes.

You surrender to his touch, let him tilt you forward so he can gently kiss your brow. The place is bustling and the crowd pushes them together as he wraps his arms around you, pouring all he cannot say into where his lips meet your skin. You do not speak, and simply snake your arms around his waist, pull him close.

There they stand, and Bucky thinks he can get used to this feeling.

This warmth, the strength of your body against his, the way you make his heart swell larger than life.

“Is it too late to tell the boys I get seasick?” he asks, and you laugh.

He loves the sound of your laugh.

“Might be, Sarge.”

He thinks he loves everything about you, really.

“I do have something for you, actually,” you say as his forehead presses against yours and you mumble it under your breath. Around the ruckus of the bustling port, your voice is all he focuses in on. “It’s just me being… I don’t know, superstitious, I suppose.”

“What is it?” He feels your hands shift between them as you pull something out of your pocket, and it is a simple ring, gleaming gold. “We’re not actually getting married, are we?” he asks breathlessly, eyes flickering up to yours and you lift your head as you take his hand and slide it onto his right middle finger.

It’s a bit too loose, but he watches it settle upon his hand anyway.

“It was my father’s,” you explain quietly and he knocks his head against yours. Your eyes flutter shut at the warmth of his brow against yours and he aches to kiss you, but he doesn’t. “It was supposed to give him good luck, and he always said it kept him alive during the war, and it worked, so…” Your hands cup his neck, and your thumbs brush against his jaw. His hand comes around your waist, the other settling in the small of your back. The ring is cool, a new tiny weight on his hand and something inside him collapses. “Stay safe on the other side, soldier.”

“Is that an order?”

“Doctor’s orders,” you affirm, your lips twisting into a grin. “You ought to follow them.”

“I will do my best,” he whispers and you chuckle. “And I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

“It’ll be awful boring without you otherwise.”

“As it’ll be boring for me without you.”

Noses brush as you lean towards him, your fingers warm and cold and strong, desperately holding onto him. For a moment, he thinks you might kiss him, and your breath ghosts against his lips before you halt, just a whisper away from him. Everything zeroes in on you. He can hear nothing but your soft breaths, his heart in his ears. His stomach tugs him in every direction and he swallows, eyes cast on your lips, your eyes, every part of your face.

Then you turn your face away, your aching sigh against his cheek. His fingers dig into your flesh through your dress, and your hands slide down his shoulders.

His heart cracks.

Tilting your head, you swallow and he can hear his heart in his ears, as his hands draw to your waist. Then, you turn your head and your lips almost brush his.

He can taste you, just barely, the smell of perfume clinging to your skin. How easy it would be, to simply close the distance, push his mouth against yours and feel you kiss him back, except it wouldn’t be easy at all.

He knows why you don’t kiss him.

It’s the same reason why he doesn’t kiss you.

Kissing makes it real, makes it true, makes it too hard to leave and you need to go. If you kiss him, you will never leave his arms and if he kisses you, he will evade any force that will force him overseas just so he can stay with you.

No matter how much his heart yearns to reach yours, no matter how much he wants to taste you, feel you beneath his hands…

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

To kiss you would be to make it real. To manifest something between them left unsaid is a frightening thing when they stand in death’s palm.

It would be unfair. It would be cruel to love only to die, but he does.

In the past few days, he has felt everything the stories always said about love: fulfillment, pure happiness, indescribable joy and a lightness to his chest he has never felt before.

Heartwrenching agony. Poisonous grief. A pain enough to shatter bones.

He loves you, and he is devastated.

“Goodbye, Sergeant Barnes.” You pull back, your hands sliding down his arms and he catches your fingers in his, desperate not to let you slip away. Only to prolong the inevitable. Your eyes are struggling not to shed their tears, your lips twisted in a bittersweet smile as you struggle to come up with a way… a way to say everything you cannot say aloud. He doesn’t want to see you cry, but he does not say so. He is barely breathing. “Goodbye… Bucky.”

It isn’t enough.

It never will be.

“Goodbye, doll,” he whispers. Your eyes flicker from his face to his hands, and he squeezes your palms gently before you tear yourself away, force yourself not to look back, slip into the crowd and disappear forever.

He does not chase after you even though he does not want your story to end.

“Buck.”

The man standing before the tombstone looks up, over his shoulder, to Steve.

“We need to get back before it gets dark.”

And then he smiles, solemn and sad before turning back towards the stone. Stepping closer, he crouches before the engraved stone and runs a hand carefully over its curve.

“I’ll see you next weekend, doll,” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing numb lips to cold stone. The emptiness inside him seems to sew itself shut, just an inch at both ends, before he draws back. His metal hand flutters over the engraving, and his lips part in a silent sigh before digging through his jacket and setting the simple, golden ring in the dirt. It glimmers in the pale sunlight, and he smiles but it disappears before it can truly settle. “The ring worked. God, I only wish it was with you.”

He stands and turns back to Steve.

“I just wanted to say my goodbyes,” Bucky says, voice barely louder than the autumn wind. “Y’know, she was… She died so young. She was…”

He doesn’t want to say love of his life, because that means he missed it.

Missed his chance.

“It was quick,” is all Steve says. “A bombing. If she felt any pain, it was only for a second.”

“I think it would’ve been the fear that killed her,” Bucky replies softly, walking towards his old friend. “It’s getting late. We should start heading back.”

“We could get something to eat—” Steve tries, but Bucky merely shakes his head.

“I’m not hungry tonight.”

When he gets back to the facility, he excuses himself to his room and puts on a record that was all the rage back in their day. He vaguely recalls it playing a few times when the Commandos were out late drinking in London.

Every time, he thought of you, somewhere out there, and the mandatory prom king and queen dance they had together.

What he wouldn’t give for another chance to dance with you again.

He collapses on the bed, lying down and letting the music lull him to sleep. Eyes slipping shut, he imagines a life where he had said something different, imagines a life where the dreams he dreams now are a reality.

He imagines a life where you knew he loved you.

Where it wasn’t too late.

“If there is some other way to prove that I love you I swear I don't know how You'll never know if you don't know now You'll never know if you don't know now…”

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

The Tower: Family - 4

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1591

Warnings: Pregnancy

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 4: Having it All

The following day I spent between training and the lab. I didn’t see Natasha at all after breakfast, but that wasn’t unusual. I assumed she was talking to everyone about it but there were no strong feelings of distress coming through any of the threads to let me know that anyone was upset by anything, so if she was I couldn’t tell.

I went about my day as usual. After I was done with work I collected the twins from Thor and took them out to play with Bruce and the dogs. We came in and cleaned up and by the time I headed in for dinner with everyone else, they were all already there at the table that was laden down with food. Everyone was just talking about general family things - what we’d done today, what our plans were for tomorrow - so I just assumed she hadn’t gotten to everyone or no decision had been made.

Wanda was looking at the food like she wasn’t sure if she was starving or repulsed.

“Are you having food aversions, Wanda?” I asked as I filled my plate.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“It’s probably going to hit you before it hits Natasha,” I said.

“Because of the multiples,” Natasha said with a nod.

“I really want to know what you’re both having,” I said and looked down at Thor. “Can you tell that?”

“I’m afraid not, my queen. That is slightly outside of my gifts,” he explained. “Perhaps I will get a vision?”

“They’re gonna be girls,” Wanda said with a level of certainty that made me think she knew something the rest of us didn’t.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just feels like it.”

The way she was so sure and so excited about being pregnant made me feel so soft and warm. I reached over and rubbed the back of her hand, smiling softly. “I love you so much, you know?”

She smiled and gently squeezed my hand. “I know. I love you too.”

“So, I think we all have something to discuss,” Natasha interrupted.

I suddenly felt slightly nervous and I sat up and put my fork down. “We do? You spoke to them?”

“I have,” Natasha said with a nod.

I looked around the table at everyone. They all seemed to tense up a little, except for Bruce and Thor who were completely relaxed and enjoying their meal. “What questions?”

“This isn’t a no,” Steve said. “But four infants and two toddlers will be a lot and I think if we agree to do it, we’ll need help. Which a couple of people who I won’t name were a little too nervous to hire with the twins.”

“Fine. I’ll agree to get a nanny or two,” Natasha said with a huff. “I don’t want to be that new mom level of exhausted El was.”

“Hold up, four? Did we say four?” Tony asked.

Bruce patted Tony’s shoulder and smiled at him affectionately. “Nat came and spoke to everyone about that little request you made of your favorite over there.”

Tony’s jaw dropped and he looked around the table opening and closing his mouth. “Uh, what?”

“Was that the only thing? That we hire help?” I asked.

“I think that was the main thing. Because that’s a lot of bottles and diapers and long nights,” Steve said. “But if it will make you happy, then that’s what we want.”

“I think we have a lot of love to give,” Sam added. “Need to make sure we’re not playing favorites though.”

“I’m good at that,” I said. “I think we can do it. It’ll be a lot of babies, but we’re a unit.”

Sam nodded and reached over to Pietro and pressed his nose. Pietro giggled and grabbed his finger.

I got up and straddled Tony’s lap, cradling his jaw. My fingers ran through his salt and pepper beard and I looked down into his brown eyes. “Did you hear that?”

“Hold on,” he said, looking up at me. “Nat, throw your shoe at me.”

“Please don’t hit me, Nat,” I giggled.

“Okay, fine,” Tony said. “Brucie bear, use those Hulk hands. I’m not entirely convinced I’m awake right now.”

Bruce laughed and pushed him, making the chair both Tony and I sat on rocked back and forth.

“Didn’t ask for a heart attack, Brucie. But thank you,” Tony said and his hands ran up my thighs to my ass. “So, El, darling. I think we have some activities to be partaking in.”

I leaned in and kissed him lovingly and deeply. His hands ran up into my hair and he tilted his head as his tongue dipped into my mouth and I circled my tongue with his.

“Hey now,” Sam said. “Not in front of the children.”

Tony pulled back slowly and ghosted his lips along my jaw. “What do you say? Shall we go try and put a baby in you?” He whispered against my ear.

I giggled. “I still have my IUD in, dork,” I teased. “Let’s wait until the wedding. Then I can drink.” He looked up at me and gave a small nod and I leaned in, ruffling his hair. “You get to have everything,” I whispered.

“Is this supposed to be both terrifying and exhilarating?” Tony asked just as softly.

I nodded and teared up, a stray tear running down my cheek. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Oh no. What did I do?” Tony asked, pulling me into a hug.

I shook my head and hid my face in his neck. “This is what it was supposed to feel like.”

Bruce reached over and rubbed my back gently with one large green hand. “Hey,” he said gently. “You get to have everything too, El.”

“Oh. Oh no,” Wanda said, covering her mouth.

I looked up, my protective wife instincts kicking in as the wave of nausea Wanda was feeling ran down her thread. “What is it?” I said, getting up. “I’m going to make you some ginger tea. What’s set you off?”

Wanda made a small choked noise. Steve got up and scooped her into his arms. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll hold your hair back,” he said, carrying her out of the room.

I went into the kitchen to brew her some tea. A moment later Natasha followed me in with three platters of food. “From the snippet she just sent me, it could be one of these three or just the combination of all three,” Natasha explained and started to pack them into plastic containers.

“Oh jeez,” I said. “I remember what that was like.”

“I am not looking forward to that,” Natasha said. “It might have been an aftershave too.”

“Oh yeah, and you know your sense of smell gets stronger,” I said. “But aftershaves and soaps definitely set me off. Plus, I couldn’t handle coffee or bacon.”

“I’m still fine right now. Just want to figure out what set off my soft wife,” Natasha said and put the leftovers into the fridge.

“You’ve ordered ginger pills right, FRIDAY?” I said.

“I have,” the A.I. confirmed.

“Good, those will help," I said and carried the tea back out to the dining room.

Steve passed me with another platter. “We figured out it was this and Bucky,” he said as he passed me.

“Oh no,” I said, laughing, and put the tea down next to Wanda. “Here, sweetie. Drink this.”

“He has been instructed to go shower,” Tony said.

“Poor Bucky,” I giggled. “FRIDAY, can you put unscented shampoo and conditioner on the list?”

“Already done,” FRIDAY said.

“For now he’s gonna have to smell like me since I’m acceptable,” Steve said, coming back into the room.

“Thank you, Elise,” Wanda softly said.

I kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

“I don’t remember your food aversions being like this,” Wanda said.

“I -” I took a deep breath and began to massage her scalp. “You remember how much I was trying to keep you out of my head back then?”

“Yes,” Wanda said as she leaned into my hands. “But it didn’t really work.”

“It must have helped a little,” I said. “I lied. A lot. I felt like I was such a burden that unless it instantly made me puke, I’d grit my teeth and power through it. Or I’d wait until I was alone. Which was a lot.”

“Oh,” Wanda said, frowning.

“Not this time,” Tony said.

Steve reached around and rubbed Tony’s back. “No, not this time.”

I smiled and kissed the top of Wanda’s head and returned to my seat. “Daddy,” Riley said, holding her hands out.

Tony got up and wiped her hands and face. When he was finished with her Pietro held out his hands too.

“Fank you,” Riley said when he moved over to clean up Pietro.

“You’re welcome, bug,” Tony said and Riley climbed out of her high chair.

“Look at you, you little escape artist,” Clint said.

“So impatient,” Tony chuckled and picked up Pietro.

“Fank you, daddy,” Pietro said, cuddling Tony.

“You’re welcome, peanut,” Tony said, sitting back down with him. Pietro snuggled into Tony’s chest as Riley started crawling around under the table.

“What are you doing under there?” Clint asked, ducking his head under the table.

“Pwaying,” she answered, simply.

Natasha shook her head and looked at Thor. “That’s your genes doing that.”

Thor laughed his deep booming laugh. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

// NEXT

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll be home for christmas

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,019

summary: Bucky made a promise to his girl, and Steve helps him keep it.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n: So like. I just slapped this together when the idea came to me last night. Let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes was tired.

And not the tired that came from being on your feet all day, no. He was the kind of tired that was bone deep. It sunk down underneath his skin and took root in all the small crevices of his body. It lingered in the lines on his palms and the soft skin behind his knees.

He let out a groan befitting his true age as he got up off the bed, moving to his dresser. A picture frame sat on the dark wood, an old engagement ring sitting next to it. His eyes rested on your face for an extra minute or two as he took in a deep breath.

It was a picture of you from 1942. You were wearing that pretty green dress that brought out your eyes, your hair perfectly curled. From a first glance, the photo looked so serious, but he could see the twitch of a poorly contained smile at the corner of your lips. It was a photo your mother had taken with your family’s color camera.

A luxury, in those days.

Your family had been one of the ones a little better off after the stock market crashed. You weren’t thrown into the same kind of poverty that he was.

Your family was old money and old money didn’t crash and burn because it didn’t believe in the banks. Your father kept your family’s fortune in a safe in your house.

When the banks had failed, you guys had stayed afloat.

Not that your family hadn’t helped out others. You’d been so kind. Your father had given him a winter coat when he’d seen that his was several sizes too small and worn thin.

Bucky had been eighteen and still wearing the coat he got when he was twelve.

Your father had also been his boss when he worked at the docks, and had subsequently been the reason that his family had survived those harsh years. They hadn’t been able to survive on his pa’s savings forever, especially not after his ma lost her job when she broke her hand.

But that was so long ago.

“We’re doing some pretty big things today, darlin,’” he said as he pulled on his jacket. “Stevie’s going back in time to take the Infinity Stones back. He’s gotta take them to the exact moment in time they were taken or it’ll create alternative timelines or something like that. It was a lot of words that even I couldn’t understand, and you know how much of a nerd I am.” He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “I miss you, baby,” he whispered as he pressed two fingers to his lips before gently touching the glass of the photo frame, right where your lips were. “I love you always.”

“BARNES!”

Bucky looked up to see his supervisor, Davies, calling him over. He wiped his hands on his jeans as he headed over, calling out, “Yes, sir?”

“We’ve got a new shipment coming in late tonight. Is there anyway you could come in?” Davies asked, at least having the decency to appear a little apologetic. “I’ll throw in a coupla extra bucks for ya, kid.”

He sighed, glancing down at his shoes. They were his one good pair and they were starting to wear through. There was no denying that he was going to need a new pair in the upcoming months, and that’s not to mention how fast Becca was growing.

She’d need a new dress within just a few weeks, he was sure of it.

And Christmas was coming up. Fuck.

As much as Becca insisted that she didn’t need a Christmas present, that she understood how rough things were, he still needed to do something for her. He needed to preserve that little bit of normalcy, that idea that Christmas was special.

Maybe a new pair of stockings. Or some mittens. Something small and simple that he might be able to afford.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” he said.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Davies said with a grin. “You’re the best damn guy we got working here. Keep it up. Maybe there’s a promotion in your future.”

God, he hoped so. With how bleak everything had been, his family could really use the knowledge of knowing that he had a secure job and secure pay, even if it wasn’t a lot.

The chatter of the men around him died down a little with the sound of heels clacking on the wet docks, and he turned to see you walking towards the main office, a bag in your hand. You wandered the edge of the docks, eyes on the water that crashed up against the concrete walls.

You didn’t seem to notice the way the men were staring at you, or if you did, you hid it well. You burrowed down into your thick winter coat, the mink fur lining the color keeping your ears warm. Your hair was styled in a sleek French twist, a style his ma used to do a lot for Sundays at church.

You were beautiful.

But Bucky watched almost in slow motion as your heel slipped on the ice that covered the docks, your eyes going wide as you fell into the icy water with a crash.

The other men were frozen in place, not sure what to do. They were torn between wanting to help and not wanting to risk the icy depths.

His heart pounding, Bucky ran for where you’d disappeared, tearing off his threadbare coat along the way. The men shouting at him sounded like buzzing in his ears as he dove in.

Eyes stinging from the salt water, he felt his heart jump as he saw you struggling to swim to the surface, bogged down by heavy skirts and your coat. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you close to his chest, before pushing up to the surface.

Blinking away the water in his eyes, he was greeted with men surrounding the area that he’d jumped from.

You were sputtering in his arms, coughing up water and clutching onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his legs working in overtime as he worked to keep both of you afloat. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“SOMEONE GIVE ‘IM A HAND!”

Bucky passed you off to one of the men, waiting for you to be pulled up onto the docks before he allowed several hands to pull him up. He collapsed on the cold concrete, staring up at the sky as he tried to catch his breath. He pushed himself up, grabbing his coat from where it’d fallen. “You’re gonna catch your death,” he said as he threw it over you, trying to shield you as best as he could from the wind coming off the water.

“FLOWER! FLOWER!”

He looked up to see the big boss man, the one who owned the docks, running towards them. His eyes widened as he realized that you looked remarkably like him.

“D-Daddy,” you stammered, coughing up more water.

“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” her father said as he fell to his knees in front of you. He held your face in his hands as he checked you over for any sort of injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you insisted, holding onto him. “Thanks to him.” You nodded over to Bucky, and it was then that your father finally seemed to notice him.

He swallowed as the man’s eyes fixed on him. “You saved my daughter?” He asked.

Bucky slowly nodded. “It was nothing, sir,” he insisted.

“It wasn’t nothing,” he insisted, helping you up. He held out a hand to Bucky, who gave him a look of bewilderment.

It wasn’t often that rich men held out their hand to poor boys like him.

“She needed help, and I wasn’t going to leave her in there,” he said with a shrug as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He tried to play off just how cold he was, his wet clothes sticking to his skin and starting to turn to ice. If he looked closely at his fingers, he could see them starting to turn blue.

Her father seemed to notice his predicament and took off his coat, pulling it around his shoulders. “Come on into the office. We’ll get you two nice and warmed up,” he said.

Bucky didn’t know what else to do, so he just nodded and followed him.

“Thank you.”

He looked over in surprise to see you looking up at him with pretty eyes, a flush in your cheeks that he suspected had nothing to do with the cold. “It was nothing,” he repeated, glancing down at his feet.

Steve would have a field day about how he’d done something stupid enough to warrant a scolding from his ma, something that the blond was usually on the end of.

“You saved my life,” you whispered, holding his coat tightly around you. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

The others were waiting for him down by the time travel thing. He could never be bothered to ask the actual name. He knew that the others had used Pym Particles to go back, but the actual contraption didn’t seem to have a name other than ‘time machine’ and it seemed like such a lame name for something so fucking cool.

Steve was getting ready to go, chatting with Sam idly as they stood there. Banner was messing with the controls.

He’d seen photos of the Hulk before, but the weird mix of both Banner and the green rage monster was… unsettling, to say the least.

Steve sighed as he walked over to Bucky, eyeing him slowly. “You know, Buck, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing,” he teased, a sly smile creeping up on his lips.

He laughed, shaking his head in slight amusement. “I want you to come with me on this. Help me out.” He wrapped an arm around him. “You didn’t get to do the whole time travel thing with us, and we have more than enough Pym Particles.”

Bucky looked at him, trying to get a read on his eyes. Finally, he let out a chuckle. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go with you to help with the Stones.”

And within two minutes, he had one of those fancy contraptions on his wrist and a quantum suit had materialized around his clothes.

Returning the Stones was easy. And time travel was exhilarating, to say the least. In all of his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined anything like it.

Steve took an extra long moment when they returned the Tesseract to the seventies, stealing a moment to observe Peggy in her natural element.

She was a force to be reckoned with, but she always had been.

Bucky knew what Steve wanted to do. They’d talked about it the night before.

His best friend wanted to go back to the forties to get his life with the Brit, with his first love.

And he got it. He really did. He understood the longing to go back, to steal back the life that was taken from him.

But Peggy had a life ahead of her. One that Steve wasn’t a part of. She had a husband and children and grandchildren.

“We got one last stop,” the blond said as he turned away from the window he’d been observing her in her office through. His eyes lingered on the photos of her family on her desk as he typed new coordinates, and with a flash, they were gone.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked as he glanced around.

But even as he asked, he knew.

Brooklyn. 1940-something.

A thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but there was already more coming down. It coated his lashes and his long hair in a white dust.

“The war ended in September,” Steve said, leading him down the alleyway. “Figured it’d be best to drop you off where there wasn’t a war going on.”

“Drop me off?” He took in every sight, smell, and sound like it was a drug. He’d missed this place so much. As much time as he spent in the twenty-first century, it never felt like home. He always felt like he was on his toes, like he couldn’t relax.

Steve stopped in front of a familiar townhouse, a sly smile on his lips that was barely visible in the dim light of the streetlamp. “If I remember correctly, you made someone a promise. And I intend to help you keep it.”

“Stevie–”

He shook his head, his eyes fixing him in place. “Listen, jerk. I’m not going back to Peggy. I did some thinking, and it’s not right,” he said. “She’s got her own life, her own love. Maybe mine is out there. But yours…” He looked up towards the window that Bucky knew peered into the kitchen, a soft light illuminating the flowers lining the sill inside that you were nicknamed after. “I know you’ve read her file. You know she never married, never moved on. That’s the love of your life, and you have the chance to be with her.”

“But what about you? And Sam?” He asked, his voice cracking with emotion. His eyes burned as he tried to hold the tears back.

Steve smiled warmly as he slung an arm around his shoulders. “Sam and I are gonna be just fine. He’s gonna need someone to listen while he rants about how the shield is more trouble than it’s worth more often than not and how people expect Captain America to be Mr. Apple Pie,” he said.

Bucky nodded, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Tell him I said bye, okay? And that I’ll miss him.” As much as he didn’t like to admit it, the man had grown on him. He considered him one of his best friends. They gave each other shit, but he knew he’d take a bullet for him. “And he’s an ass.”

The other man let out a chuckle, nodding as he pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll miss you, jerk.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too, I guess,” he said, squeezing him for an extra moment. Everything he’d been through in the past seventy years felt like it was all coming to a head in this moment. “I love you, punk.”

“I love you, too.” Steve pulled back, pulling a letter out of his suit pocket. “Give this to Peggy. She’ll know what to do.”

With a nod and one last hug, Bucky turned to go up the steps of your townhouse, his hands sweating as he knocked on the door.

January 4th, 1945

My dearest Sunflower,

I’m still alive. I know you’re ready to kick my ass for not writing to you in a few weeks, but we’ve been unable to find a post office.

Steve is good. The other guys are good. We’re doing alright for ourselves.

We’re somewhere in Austria right now. I can’t tell you exactly where, and they might redact it anyway.

It’s cold as hell here. Even colder than the water I jumped into to save you that day we first met. Remember that? I thought you were the prettiest gal I’d ever seen. Still do.

To be honest, darling, I don’t think even your father’s coat could keep me warm here. We have to keep fires going at all times One of the men got frostbite in his fingers because he didn’t wear his gloves.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for Christmas. I know that you looked mighty pretty in whatever dress you wore though. I bet it looked real good with that ring on your finger. Becca said in her letters that you never take it off. I just want you to know how often I think about that. It gives me a little happiness, knowing that you’re going to be my wife when all of this is over. I keep your picture right over my heart. The one your ma took a few months before I got drafted.

A lot of the other men aren’t so lucky. They don’t have a gal to go home to. Definitely not one was pretty as you. When your letters arrive, I let them read them as long as they promise not to mess it up. They really liked that hair ribbon and the photo of you and Becca you sent me.

I think it gives them hope, knowing that there’s still love in this world to give and to receive.

For Christmas, there weren’t many gifts. Steve did give me an extra few pairs of socks. I gave him an extra blanket I found lying around.

I know you’re going to say otherwise, but I can’t stop feeling like I failed your pa. The one thing he asked of me when he left was that I look after you and your ma and I promised him I would. I told him I wouldn’t come over here and risk my ass.

I ran into him a few weeks ago. He was going around with some of the other higher officers, talking to the troops.

Needless to say, he was surprised to see me.

He looked so mad when he pulled me into his makeshift office, I thought I’d die right there. You know how much his opinion means to me. I’d never had a good father figure until I met him. My pa was never like him. Never treated my ma or my sister with the respect and love your father has. I never knew fathers could be kind until I met him.

So I told him everything. I told him about getting drafted, how I’d tried to get out of it. I hadn’t even told Steve that. Only you.

Thanks for not telling him I was over here. I know it was awful of me to ask such a thing of you, but he swears he’s not upset with you and he understands.

He cried when I told him I’d been drafted, that I’d done my best to stay home and keep you and your ma safe. I cried, too. I’m not ashamed to admit it.

He was a little upset with me for not going home when I had the chance, but I told him I had to stay with Steve and make sure he stays safe.

But I promise you, I’ll be home for Christmas. I don’t know if it’ll be this Christmas or the next or the next, but I’ll make it home to you, okay? I pinky promise.

I have to go. Steve’s just got word that Zola is on the move.

All my love,

Your Jamie

You took a long swig of wine as you read the letter for the eighth time tonight. No matter how much of the bottle you drank, it didn’t numb the pain.

He never came home.

You’d held onto that letter, rereading it so many times that the paper had gone soft. Some of the words were blurred from tear stains.

It was the last letter you ever received from him.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You looked up in surprise, glancing over at the clock. “Who the hell is knocking on my door at midnight?” You asked yourself as you pulled on your robe to cover your nightgown.

Which, it wasn’t like you were sleeping.

After spending Christmas Eve cooking with your ma, Winifred, and Becca, you were exhausted. But you were all determined to get it done so you could spend Christmas Day relaxing.

A pang twisted your heart as you glanced down, your ring catching in the light.

Even after two years, you didn’t have the heart to take it off.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You huffed, tying your robe tightly. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Flicking on the front hallway light, you didn’t bother to look through the peephole at whoever the hell was at your door. Wiping away a few lingering tears, you flung open the door, ready to chew the person out, but the words caught in your throat.

James Buchanan Barnes was standing on your doorstep. Even though he looked a few years older, with his long hair and thick beard, there was no doubt in your mind that it was him.

“J-Jamie?” You stammered, tears pricking your eyes. “Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, sunflower,” he said, shuffling his feet.

The smile he gave you was so boyish and charming, so Jamie, that you fell to your knees. Sobs wracked your body as you tried to catch your breath. “I-I thought you were dead! They told me you were!”

“I promised you I’d be home for Christmas.” Bucky fell to his knees with you, gathering you up in his arms. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. I’m here. I’m home. And I’m never leaving you again.”

Sniffling, you grabbed his face in your hands, pushing his hair back. “Your hair,” you laughed, toying with the silky strands. “Your hair is so long.” Your fingers moved to cup his jaw, a giggle breaking through the sobs. “And your beard!”

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. His hand found your left, running over the stones on the ring that he’d given you with a promise to come home years ago when he’d been shipped off. “I have so much to tell you, my love. But I’m home.”

The feeling he could never find in the twenty-first century was back. The weariness in his bones disappeared as he held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair as he rocked you back and forth. The feeling of being home at last bloomed in his chest.

You rested your head on his shoulder, blinking away tears as you stared out at the snowy sky, holding him tight. You didn’t care that you were half inside and half out, or that the neighbors could see you.

But you were startled to see Steve Rogers leaning against the streetlamp, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he’d been put through the ringer just like Bucky.

And he looked so much bigger. You’d seen the newsreels of him, but nothing compared to seeing him standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you,” you mouthed to him.

He gave you a nod, a teary smile on his face, before fiddling with something on his wrist and disappearing into thin air.

Grabbing Bucky’s face in your hands, you pressed sweet kisses all over his hair and his face. “You’re never allowed to scare me like that ever again,” you said, leaning back to look in his eyes. Even though they were sparkling with delight, there was a hauntedness to them that you had no doubt had something to do with the metal arm that was currently holding you. But you were sure that would be explained later. Right now, you were just grateful to have him home. “You hear me? I’ll… I’ll put you on house arrest if I have to!”

He grinned, basking in your kisses like they were summer sunshine. “Trust me, darlin,’ I’m not going anywhere.” He pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his flesh hand holding the back of your head.

It felt just as good as all the kisses you’d gotten from him before, maybe even better.

“I gotta ask you something,” he said as he leaned back just enough to brush his nose against yours.

“You can ask me anything, Jame, long as you stay here with me,” you murmured, kissing him once, twice, three more times before letting him speak again.

An impish grin tugged at his lips. “Where the hell are your decorations? I come home and I don’t even get some mistletoe to kiss you under?”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned your forehead against his. You relaxed as you felt his steady, strong heartbeat under your palm. For the first time since he’d been deployed over to Europe, you felt complete. “I don’t need mistletoe to kiss you under, Sarge.”

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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prettyboy-parker · 5 years ago

Photo

welcome to albuquerque

rancher!tony x ranch hand!peter

warnings: there’s a bj scene, daddy kink (sorry!), tony and steve are divorced, tony calls peggy a bitch

words: 3.8k

Peter practically sulks the entire way to Mr. Stark’s house.

He can’t believe his aunt is making him be a ranch hand, without pay, for the entire time he’s there.

There isn’t much to do where his aunt lives anyway, so maybe it’ll keep him entertained.

But Peter can’t help and think the opposite as he leaves his bike resting against the worn, uneven fence enclosing Mr. Stark’s property. Peter slowly walks up the dirt path to the modest sized house on the property. A wooden sign next to the steps reads “Iron Man Ranch”, and Peter snorts at the name. He warily knocks a few times on the crooked door, and it swings open.

If this is Mr. Stark, Peter’s screwed.

The man is fucking handsome, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee that matches. (What Peter would give to feel that on his thighs.) Peter’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the man’s chest, blue and white flannel unbuttoned enough to let him get a glimpse of Mr. Stark’s chest hair and cross necklace.

“What do you want?” He grunts, leaning on the frame of the door, crossing his built arms across his chest.

“Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker.” Peter squeaks, outstretching his hand so Mr. Stark can shake it.

He doesn’t.

“Um, okay,” Peter hums, dropping his hand. “My Aunt said you were looking for a ranch hand?”

Mr. Stark is quiet as he thinks for a moment. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he studies Peter silently.

“Come on in, kid.”

Mr. Stark turns and heads inside, Peter rushing after him. The house is nice, a homey vibe given off by the decor and furniture. There’s pictures of Albuquerque hanging on the dark red walls, as well as many high quality photos of horses.

“Your aunt is May Parker, right?” Mr. Stark asks, sitting down at the old kitchen table. Peter sits down as well, nervously placing his hands in his lap.

“Yup!” He responds a little too cheerily. Mr. Stark nods.

“Figured. Talks about you a lot.”

Peter feels blood rush to his cheeks and he curses at himself silently.

“Oh, really?” He breathes, tapping nervously on the painted table. Mr. Stark smirks, leaning back in his dining chair.

“Only good things. Don’t worry, kid.” The older man huffs, stroking his beard gently. “Do you ride?”

Peter’s mind goes to the wrong place, until he realizes the man is talking about horses.

“Oh, I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

Mr. Stark exhales deeply, cocking an eyebrow.

“You realize it’s a farm hand position, right?” He quips, and Peter giggles softly. Mr. Stark is smiling now, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. “It’s no big deal. I can teach you.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry at the thought of Mr. Stark teaching him how to ride a horse.

“That would be super cool.” Peter replies.

“Tomorrow, 6 am.” Mr. Stark says with a smile, stretching out his hand.

They shake on it.

☀️🐴☀️

The midsummer air is dry on the bike down to Iron Man Ranch.

Peter thought summer was for sleeping in, notgetting up at 5 to tend to some cows. He’s lucky that Mr. Stark is very attractive, giving him some form of better entertainment throughout the day.

As the brunette slowly approaches the ranch, he spots Mr. Stark by the front of the fence, petting a pretty dappled horse. He spots Peter and waves him over.

“Mornin’, Pete.” He calls out as the younger jogs over. Peter’s heart skips a beat at the nickname.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” He chirps, coming to a slow walk as he shuts the gate to the fence surrounding the field. Mr. Stark just purses his lips, scratching his horse behind her ear.

She paws at the ground happily, the early morning sun glistening off her white and grey fur.

“This is Friday, my best girl.” Tony pats Friday’s flank affectionately. “You won’t be riding her, or Jarvis over there, but they need to graze.”

Peter looks over to where a chocolate colored horse is eating the grass farther away.

“She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark,” Peter hums, raising a gentle hand to scratch her neck. Mr. Stark smirks proudly, cowboy hat tipped slightly in front of his eyes.

“Let’s teach you to ride, kid.”

Peter follows Mr. Stark into the stables, nose scrunching at the smell of fresh manure.

“After we do this, you get to clean up the shit.” Mr. Stark quips as Peter steers clear of a muddy puddle.

He knows he’s not joking.

“That is what I signed up for,” Peter replies, but his voice catches in his throat when the come to the last stable.

The horse inside is gorgeous, with sparkling brown eyes and a buckskin coat.

“Edith, my American Quarter. She’s a real sweetheart. Got her from a rescue in Las Cruces.” Mr. Stark says fondly, giving Edith an affectionate scratch on the cheek. Peter holds his hand out so she can sniff it, and she does, giving him a lick. Peter giggles, petting her neck.

“We’ll get her saddled up, and I’ll teach you, yeah?”

Peter nods and listens patiently as Mr. Stark shows him how to put all the equipment on Edith. It’s... a lot, and Peter knows it’s going to take him more than a couple tries to get everything right.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark huffs, guiding Edith to stand in front of the wooden block steps. “You’re going to step up on the mounting block, put your right foot in that stirrup, then swing your left leg around.”

Peter somehow mounts the horse with ease, probably due to years of gymnastics.

“Good Job, Pete,” Mr. Stark praises, and holy fucking shit, his hand is on Peter’s thigh as he nudges the mounting block out of the way. The younger boy’s heart starts to speed up and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“You’re going to hold the reigns in two fists,” Mr. Stark instructs, and slides his hand over his thigh and dangerously close to his crotch. The older man grasps the reigns like he explained, and Peter nods, in a slight daze. Mr. Stark guides the reigns to Peter’s hands, and the younger grasps the leather in both his fists.

“Perfect, perfect.” Mr. Stark compliments, calloused hand resting on Peter’s thigh again. The younger boy has to will his growing erection away, blushing furiously.

“Now squeeze her sides to get her to walk. Pull the reigns left to go left, right to go right.”

Peter does as Mr. Stark says, and Edith starts walking slowly. A grin erupts on Peter’s face as he gently steers Edith away from the fence.

“Wonderful, sweetheart. You’re a natural.”

Peter’s Brain short-circuits at the nickname.

Soon, with Mr. Stark’s encouraging words, he’s able to trot around the enclosure.

☀️🐴☀️

Being a ranch hand gets better and better.

It’s a lot of work, tending to the cattle and chickens and sheep, but he ends up putting on a bit of muscle. He just rides Edith everywhere, so there’s less walking involved. He passes Mr. Stark every so often, waving bashfully as the older man nods curtly. He even invites Peter to stay for lemonade and cookies in the afternoon. Mr. Stark is so funny and sweet, and Peter tries not to think to hard about lingering touches the older man gives him.

“We’re going to go riding today, kid.” Mr. Stark tells him when he enters the stables early Friday morning. Peter blinks a few times, since Mr. Stark tends not to mix up their schedule too much.

“Oh, um, where?” Peter asks as he watches Mr. Stark secure the leather saddle onto Edith. Jarvis stands a few paces away, bare except for reigns. Peter had to keep a straight face the first time Mr. Stark explained that he rides his horses bareback. (He tried not to think about how he wants to ride Mr. Stark bare back.)

“There’s a couple of trails in the forest back there. I’ve packed some snacks and lemonade.” He hums, scratching Edith’s neck once he’s done saddling her up. “Hop on and follow me.”

They do just that, Mr. Stark taking the lead as Peter follows out of the enclosure. There’s a cool breeze as they trot through the woods, birds chirping and leaves rustling. Mr. Stark yells out instructions or encouragement ever so often. The sound of running water grows louder as they travel on the path, and eventually it gives way to a clearing.

And a waterfall.

“I like to take the horses here to rest while we ride. I also like to take a dip myself.” Mr. Stark shouts over the water as he slips off Jarvis. Peter does the same, stretching his legs.

“I didn’t bring my suit!” He giggles as Mr. Stark ties both Edith and Jarvis to a tree.

“I don’t mind,” Mr Stark quips, winking at Peter. The younger boy’s face heats up as Mr. Stark takes off his cowboy hat, running his hand through his greying hair.

“You can swim in your boxers, but I don’t recommend riding back with wet underwear.” He laughs, unbuttoning his flannel print shirt. “Chafing’s a bitch.”

Peter tries not to watch Mr. Stark as he takes off his shirt, but it’s really fucking hard not to. He’s all working muscle, with a deep tan from working under the Albuquerque sun. Peter tears his eyes away when they drift down at the dark hair by his navel.

He busies himself with taking off his own burgundy t-shirt, shimmying out of his skinny blue jeans. Peter debates keeping his briefs on, but ultimately decides fuck it.

When he turns back around, naked, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from, moaning or some shit.

Mr. Stark is even more attractive naked, with muscular thighs that could crush Peter if he wanted to. Not to mention he’s fucking hung, even when soft. Peter has to tear his eyes away from the older man’s dick, blushing furiously.

Mr. Stark grins and wades into the water, far enough that the water is up to his chest.

“Come in, Pete!” He shouts, and Peter does, only because he doesn’t want to be exposed in the middle of the forest. The water is really fucking cold, but after riding in long sleeves and pants, it at least feels a little nice.

“Feel good on your muscles?” Mr. Stark asks, and Peter groans in response.

“My neck aches really bad.” Peter complains, water rushing down his chest as he sits up in the creek. Mr. Stark floats over to him, placing his cold hands on his shoulders. Peter’s breath catches in his throat and Mr. Stark needs the knot in his neck.

“I’ve been told I give good massages.” Mr. Stark hums, and a small moan escapes Peter’s lips. Not thinking straight, he looks back at Mr. Stark and rests his head on his wet chest. He’s handsome up close, with his deep smile lines and freckles from the sun. Peter’s lips part, and Mr. Stark leans closer, and-

They’re kissing.

His lips are warm and soft and perfect. The older man tastes like granola and lemonade, the lemonade he drinks like it’s whisky. Peter turns his body so he can cup Mr. Stark’s stubbled jaw in his small palm. Mr. Stark’s large, rough hands rest on the small of Peter’s back, lightly stroking the soft skin. Peter hums happily and leans into the kiss, gently grasping at the bottom of Mr. Stark’s wet hair.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes when the pull away, catching their breath.

“It’s Tony, honey.” The older man mutters softly, wiping a bead of water away from the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“Tony,” The younger breathes, kissing him again.

☀️🐴☀️

“Steve, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Peter looks down at at the bead of moisture running down the side of his glass. The muffled voice speaks again, and Tony rubs the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not fair. You know that. I don’t give a fuck what Peggy wants, she’s not her fucking mother.”

There’s a shout from the phone and even though the caller isn’t even in the room, Peter feels awkward.

“Whatever. But I’ll tell you this, you’re not cutting my holiday visits short.” Tony huffs, hanging up the phone. He stays silent for a second, before banging his fist on the kitchen counter. Peter jumps, but gets up hastily so he can wrap his lean arms around Tony’s thick torso. The older man sighs deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter’s mop of chestnut curls.

“You okay?” He asks, looking up at Tony’s upset face.

“Yeah,” He breathes, brushing a curl away from Peter’s face with a thick finger. “My ass of an ex-husband is cutting my daughter’s visit short for some vacation.”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat.

Ex-husband?

“You were married?” He asks, hand pressed against Tony’s chest. His head spins at the though of a wedding band around the older man’s finger.

“Yeah. He was cheating on me towards the end of our marriage.” Tony tells him, peppering kisses on the younger’s cheek. Peter giggles, running his finger along Tony’s jaw.

“Peggy?” Peter offers, cocking his head. Tony throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s the bitch.”

Peter pokes Tony in the side.

“But you have a daughter? Is she as cute as you?” Peter jokes, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Tony’s jeans.

“You’re hilarious. I’d say she’s cuter.” Tony quips, poking one of Peter’s dimples. “Morgan Stark-Rogers. My little girl.”

Peter feels warm as he listens to Tony talk about his daughter. It’s clear he really loves her, one of the few people who can wipe the usual scowl off his face.

Tony reaches for his phone, unlocking it and pulling up a picture of Morgan. She’s beaming at the camera, next to a dark brown lab that’s missing one leg.

“That’s her dog Bucky. He’s a bit of a moron.”

Peter rolls his eyes, nuzzling into Tony’s chest more.

“He’s cute. Hush.” He scolds. “Besides, I want to hear about Morgan.”

☀️🐴☀️

The days go by blissfully.

He spends more and more time at Tony’s, telling Aunt May that some of the cows have reoccurring health problems, but he really spends most of his time languidly making out with Tony. They never go too far, much to Peter’s disappointment. Tony always stops him if he starts getting too enthusiastic, directing his attention to the movie or show playing on the T.V.

It’s nice, though.

His aunt always makes him stay home on Saturdays, wanting family time, but instead of hanging out with her he’s usually grocery shopping.

He’s standing in front of the shelves of pasta trying to decide between linguini and fettuccine, when a familiar voice speaks up over the squeaking of wheels.

“Peter, baby!”

Tony stands behind his ugly green cart, smiling wide. He lightly grasps Peter’s bicep, pulling the younger in for a quick kiss.

“Hi, Tony.” He says bashfully, placing the box of linguini in his basket. Peter can’t help but graze his eyes over Tony’s body, because he’s in a tank top that shows off his tanned, scarred arms perfectly.

“Daddy! Daddy! I found them!”

A little girl bounds down the aisle, hot pink package in her tiny hands.

Morgan.

“That’s awesome!” Tony replies, watching as Morgan tosses the iced animal crackers into the cart. Peter can’t help but smile at the two. Tony seems so happy when he’s around his daughter.

“Morgan, this is my ranch hand, Peter.”

Morgan clutches onto Tony’s jean-clad calf, peering at Peter with big brown eyes.

“Hi Morgan! Your daddy has told me so much about you.” Peter says happily, squatting down so he’s at eye level with the little girl. Tony tenses up at Peter’s voice, and oh, he had no idea that’s something he’s into.

“It’s time to go get our vegetables, Little Miss.” Tony hums, and Morgan groans, but skips down the aisle in her pink flip flops. Peter stands up, smiling, but Tony pulls him back by his jean pocket.

“You better be coming over tonight, sweetheart.” He growls into Peter’s ear, making the younger blush all over. Tony nips at his earlobe before walking after his daughter.

Peter stands at the end of the aisle, shocked, with a basket of linguini and Ragu.

☀️🐴☀️

“Tony, Tony, below the collar.”

The older man nods and latches his lips onto Peter’s collarbone, sucking at the silky smooth skin. Peter lets out a soft whimper, threading his finger’s through Tony’s greying locks.

“God, you’re so hot Pete, fuck. Should’ve done this earlier.” Tony groans, calloused hands sliding under Peter’s MIT t-shirt, squeezing his hips so tight there will be bruises tomorrow morning. Peter whines, desperately grinding his hips down onto Tony’s crotch.

“Daddy,” Peter moans quietly right in Tony’s ear, grinning when he hears the other man’s breath catch in his throat.

“Baby, I need to get my mouth on you right now.”He grunts, lifting Peter up off of his lap like he weighs nothing. The younger boy shakes his head, slightly sweaty curls bouncing around.

“Wanna suck you off, daddy,” He purrs, pressing lazy kisses to Tony’s sharp jawline. He bites his lip and throws his head back.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Peter obeys, situating himself between Tony’s legs. The silver fox looks like a fucking god, legs spread as he rubs his growing bulge through his jeans, gazing down at Peter with arousal-clouded eyes.

Peter giggles and rubs his hands up and down Tony’s thighs.

“You’ve ever sucked cock before, baby boy?” Tony asks, gently running his thumb over the corner of Peter’s mouth. He nods, eagerly grasping at the button of Tony’s Levi’s.

“Hm. Naughty.” Tony hums, squeezing Peter’s neck gently. “Do those college boys make you feel good?”

“No, not as good as you can, daddy.” Peter whimpers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the front of Tony’s jeans. The older man hisses, hurriedly yanking down his zipper, and pushes his pants down to his thighs. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his navy blue American Eagle boxers.

Trendy.

Peter kneads his cock a few times before pulling it out of his boxers. His mouth waters as the older man’s cock stands at half mast, flushed a dark angry red, a thick vein on the underside of the it.

“Think it’ll fit, baby?” Tony chuckles, stroking the young boy’s cheek.

“Maybe with a little struggle.” Peter says with a wink, pressing a few kisses to the hot skin. The erection jumps, and Tony groans as Peter chases it with his tongue. He starts sucking softly on the slick head, massaging Tony’s heavy balls.

“Love your mouth, Pete.” He moans, gripping Peter’s curls in his hands. Peter eases a few inches more into his mouth, relaxing his throat to the best of his ability. Tony bucks his hips up involuntary, causing Peter’s eyes to sting with tears.

“You taste so good, daddy.” Peter moans, pumping his wrist up and down. Tony exhales deeply, gripping the side of the couch with a death grip.

“Get your mouth back on me, baby, daddy’s close.”

Peter smirks and strokes Tony’s cock slower.

“Losing your stamina, old man?” He teases, squeezing the base of Tony’s dick. His own cock throbs with need, but he wants to get his daddy off first.

“Fuck you, Pete. I can last until the morning, you’re just so fuckin’ hot.”

Pleased with his answer, Peter takes Tony’s cock as far as he can, breathing in the musky scent of his neatly trimmed pubic hair. He starts moving his head, loud, slick noises cutting through his arousal filled brain.

“Ah, honey,” Tony groans, and his hips buck up once, then twice, before he shoots his load down Peter’s throat. The younger boy swallows, pulling off of Tony’s cock with a loud pop.

“Get up here, baby, come fuck into my fist.”

Peter moans as he shimmies out of his jeans, then briefs, small pink cock smacking against his stomach. He scrambles onto Tony’s lap, humping his thighs as he spits into his hand.

“Come on, pretty boy, get yourself off.” Tony hums, making a tight circle with his hands. Peter whimpers and tries to slip his hard length into Tony’s fist, but misses on the first try. Tony helps him out, and Peter starts humping into his fist.

“Peter, come on, you can do it, come for daddy.”

Peter comes with a cry, gripping onto Tony’s broad shoulders.

“Tony, Tony,” He whines, his now soft cock pressing uncomfortably against the other’s hot skin.

“You did so good for me Peter, so good.”

Peter smiles, breathlessly.

☀️🐴☀️

“Peter! Peter! Peter! Look at the unicorn!”

Peter laughs as Morgan pulls on his hand, pointing her chubby finger at the giant pink unicorn stuffed animal.

“I see it, Morg.” Peter tells her, bright neon carnival lights bouncing off his skin. Tony’s hand rests on the small of his back, thumbing at the cloth of his sweatshirt. (Well, it’s actually Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt, but he likes to think it’s his now.)

“Daddy, can I get it?” Morgan pleads, eyeing the clown water game.

“Morguna, honey, you already have a unicorn.” Tony says softly, gesturing to the smaller purple unicorn tucked under her arm.

“But-“

“Morgan.”

Morgan pouts and looks at Peter.

“How about we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Peter offers, trying to steer clear of meltdown. Morgan lights up, and Tony lets out a breath.

“That was close,” Tony mumbles as the maneuver their way through the Fourth of July crowd. He was surprised when Tony invited him to take Morgan to the festival, hell, even the girl wanted Peter to go too.

Morgan practically shoves the 6 tickets into the ride operator’s hand. The teenager rolls his eyes and swings open the gate, Morgan clambering in, then Tony, then Peter.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, swinging her tiny little legs as Tony not-so-subtly slips his arm around Peter’s shoulder. The ride starts with a lurch, and Morgan squeals happily.

The field sparkles with the lights of the endless rides and games, the people all mushing together into one big blob. The air is cool at the top, stars twinkling in the inky sky.

Tony’s rubbing his thumb down Peter’s neck, and it takes a few moments for Peter to realize he’s staring at him.

Lovingly?

“Daddy, is Peter like Papa? You used to look at Papa like that.”

Peter freezes and Tony tenses up. The older man’s eyes glaze with moisture, and he swallows thickly.

“Yeah baby, Peter, well, I don’t want Peter to leave this time.” He croaks, smiling softly at the younger.

Peter leans over and holds him tight.

☀️🐴☀️

You Are Now Leaving

Albuquerque

Come Back Soon!

#starker #starker mood board #ironspider #tony x peter #lyn knows nothing about horses #my writing #ranch au

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i absolutely love your steve rogers x reader fics! i’m not sure if you accept requests but if you do, i have something in mind.

i was thinking the reader could be tony’s daughter (maybe tony and pepper had a daughter before morgan) she’s around 20 and just recently has been going on missions with the avengers. the reader and steve have been sneaking around for a couple months sleeping together. steve was really hesitant at first considering she is tony’s daughter but eventually he realized he couldn’t resist her. one night the group is having dinner together. no one knows the reader and steve are having sex. the readers says “hey daddy can you pass the salt” but both steve and tony reach for the salt.

i just thought it would be really funny to see both steve and tony’s reactions. you can add smut if you want too. thanks!!

Hiii sweets 🥰

Thank you so much for reaching out with your kind words! I appreciate that you’d trust me to write what’s on your mind and do it justice 💗 However, I’m not taking requests at this time (if ever). Apologies 😔

In addition, I wouldn’t dare to compete with fav Tony’s ‘daughter’ x Steve series by @luciilferss . There’s even the pass the salt thing! Priceless👌

Once again, thank you for reaching out, sorry to disappoint and I hope you have a lovely day/night 💖

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years ago

Text

Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Thirty:

"Papa?"

With heavy eyelids, Steve squinted into the darkness. He was in bed, but he didn't remember getting there. Momentarily paranoid until he felt Bucky's sleeping frame beside him. A small hand shook his arm, and Steve cautiously peeked in the direction. Finding Sophia instead ghost children, he asked, "Everything okay?"

Clutching her stuffed bear, she shook her head, "I had a bad dream."

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face and went to take the little girl back to her bed, but she stopped him, "Can I stay here with you and daddy? Please?"

Even if her lower lip wasn't quivering and even if her eyes weren't glinting with unshed tears, Steve would've moved closer to Bucky's side and pulled back the covers for her. With a small smile, Sophia climbed into the king size bed. Facing Steve, she curled up against his body. As she wrapped her arms around Steve's bare torso, he kissed her forehead and smoothed her silky black hair away from her face.

"Wanna tell me about it?" Steve asked as he soothingly rubbed her back.

Sophia shook her head and moved closer to Steve.

"Okay, sweetie," Steve yawned and tried to get comfortable again in between two very warm-bodied people and under a thick comforter.

Sophia nuzzled closer and Steve kept smoothing her hair. Softly, Sophia asked, "Sing me a song, papa?"

Around another yawn, Steve nodded. Kissing her forehead again, Steve went for his go-to and softly complied, "'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my…'"

Eyes snapping open, he continued, "'Sunshine away,'" only to find that Sophia was no longer in bed with him and neither was Bucky. Further evaluating the master bedroom, Steve found light peeking in through the curtains. Glancing at the alarm clock on his bedside table, Steve found it read: 10:30, which meant that he slept in longer than he had meant to.

Forcing himself out of bed, Steve made his way to the ensuite. Quickly taking care of his morning business. Once done, he slipped on his rings and entered the closet to dress for the day. Since they were going to the orchard to do the typical autumn activities, Steve pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain maroon sweatshirt.

As he made his way for the stairs, he heard commotion in the garage and changed his course. Stepping into the garage, Steve found Bucky up in the loft handing Jonas some of the outdoor Halloween decorations. With the pair in the middle of a conversation, Steve stayed at the open doorway; not wanting to interrupt them.

"It was terrible!" Jonas groaned in embarrassment, "I'll be surprised if she talks to me ever again."

"Trust me, if pops could not only agree to dating me, but marry me after everything that I did," Bucky huffed out a laugh, "You're fine."

"You think?" Jonas asked, sounding hopeful.

"Positive."

Just as Steve was about to turn and go back into the house, Jonas questioned, "How did you ask pops out?"

And Steve just had to hear what his husband had to say.

"Well," Bucky panted from moving the decorations from the loft to the edge where Jonas could reach them, "It was a bunch of double dates. Of course, pops doesn't count those."

Steve rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he didn't count those! The pair had been coupled with girls, not each other, for sobbing out loud! And the one time that Steve had been coupled with a boy, it was all a ruse for Bucky to see what Steve liked in a partner. Which was ridiculous considering Steve didn't have a type until he met Bucky and his soul went, oh, yes, we like him. This is our person.

Bucky clarified, "We had a night in. Where we watched horror movies that scared the ever-loving shit out of me, but I chose because I knew how much your father loves them --"

Steve found it funny that Bucky left out the part that he cozied up to him the entire time.

"-- and then we spent the rest of the night… making out."

Steve smiled at the memory and nearly laughed out loud when Jonas complained, "I really didn't need to know that, dad."

"Sorry, not sorry," Bucky chuckled.

Deciding to make his presence known before Bucky could traumatize their child any further, Steve walked around the corner and smiled, "What's going on out here."

"Figured we could decorate before it starts getting too cold," Bucky answered while Jonas mocked, "Grossing me out."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes at that and asked Steve, "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Steve shrugged.

"Wish I could sleep that well," Jonas wistfully commented and teased, "You passed out before we even got home."

"I was tired," Steve defended himself while Bucky joked, "I'm just glad that he eventually stopped snoring."

Steve rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry at them both before turning to head back into the house. As he climbed the stairs, he could vaguely hear music just barely beneath the laughter and conversations. It really shouldn't have been a surprise when he saw almost all of the kids in the kitchen.

What was a surprise though was when he found Tibby there, too. Shimmying her shoulders to make Holly, in her highchair, laugh. There was small pumpkin pancakes on the chair's tray that Holly was slowly eating. Meanwhile, Luke was at the stove icing a tray of cooling cinnamon rolls and Katie was removing another batch from the top wall oven.

Grabbing Tibby's hand, Ethan danced to the music and giggled when she twirled him around. Bringing Steve back to the early days when Tibby was still a kid. Hoping that his kids would remember and cherish these moments in their lives. Hoping that these memories could take the place of all the ones filled with hurt and fear. Replace them with happiness and moments where they knew they were loved.

"You're up!" Tibby greeted.

Steve nodded giving a silent, obviously, as Luke said, "Might wanna tell Dad."

Brows furrowing, Steve asked, "Why?"

"He was worried," Katie answered, removing the cinnamon rolls from the lower wall oven.

"Of course, he was," Steve rolled his eyes and further entered the kitchen.

Luke scoffed, "I mean, he did have to carry you to bed last night."

Blushing, Steve waved the hidden concern off. Not wanting to worry his children. Not any of them, but especially not the younger ones. Instead, Steve distracted himself.

At the table, Sophia was sitting, coloring a picture of a cat in a pumpkin patch at night. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he praised, "That's really pretty, sweetie."

"Thank you," Sophia tilted her head back to beam up at Steve.

Tucking her long hair behind her ear, he offered, "We can even hang it up, if you want to."

"Hmm," Sophia's expression twisted into one of thought, and sighed, "I'll think about it."

"Okay," Steve agreed, giving her forehead a kiss.

As Steve turned back around, he noticed that someone was missing, "Where's Wanda?"

"Oh," Katie scrunched her nose the way she always did when she felt guilty and admitted, "In the bathroom sick. She got one whiff of my body wash and barely made it to the toilet."

"Poor thing," Tibby shook her head, all the while swinging Ethan around like he was a rag doll.

"What body wash?" Steve's brows furrowed, hoping that it wasn't the seasonal one that he gifted her in the care package. Especially since he had gifted the same one to Wanda and he would feel positively awful if that was the reason why she had morning sickness every day.

Turning the ovens off, Katie said, "The one with rose oil that we got over the summer. It's the one that I left here."

Crossing the kitchen to the fridge where a ghost post-it note was located, Steve added to the list of:

NO MORE celery/celery salt cucumber pickles bananas rose oil

Putting the pen back in its place, Wanda joined the group with a sheepish smile on her face while she rubbed her protruding abdomen. It seemed like her bump was growing more and more every day. Almost outgrowing the outfits that they had bought just a week ago.

Steve paused, had it only been a week? Steve just couldn't believe it. Wanda fit in so well with them that he could barely remember what their lives had been like before she entered it. And now, Steve couldn't imagine a life where she wasn't a part of their family.

"Well, this certainly smells better," Wanda commented, holding her lower back, "I'm so hungry, I think I could eat a horse."

"Why would you want to eat a horse?" Ethan asked.

"It's just a saying, honey," Steve explained, "It means that you're really hungry."

"Oh," the little boy contemplated and climbed up on one of the stools, "Then, I want to eat a horse, too."

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled, "How about we have some cinnamon rolls instead."

"Pumpkin cinnamon rolls," Luke corrected, washing his hands.

"Even better," Steve grinned.

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

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i-the-hell-is-bvcky · 5 years ago

Text

Summary: Reader is a bounty hunter for shield and Cap is the world’s best mercenaries who shield wants to catch. So what happens when she meets him and that plan goes out the window?

Pairing: Spy!Reader x Mercenary!Steve Rogers

Warnings: SMUT (18+), violence, language, google translate Italian

Word Count: 845

A/n: Going for a bit of a slow burn here 😈 Reblogs make my day btw 😊

The night was going well and Yn was truly enjoying herself. Dignitaries and the fabulously wealthy chatted with her and were charmed by her stories and fluency in their native tongue. She was irresistible and how could she not be? The dress she had on hugged her in all the right places. And while she was juggling all the attention she kept a keen eye on the room looking for Steve. When he came into the crowded room, it was like time stopped. Dressed all black, Steve strolled into the room like he wasn’t a wanted man. Women stopped their conversations to get a glimpse of the handsome man. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. He really was attractive but the warning from Natasha rang loud and clear in her head: do not engage. So she continued to drink and schmooze all the while tracking Steve.

“Ciao bella,” said a voice over the music. She turns around to see an older man, about late forties with salt and pepper hair in a maroon blazer. He wasn’t as nice to look at like Steve but he piqued her interest. “Ti piacerebbe ballare?” He held out and open palm and she accepted. “Tu sei la donna più bella qui” At this she laughed, she knew she looked good but to say she was the most beautiful was a bit much for her. He tells her his name, Vincent and she gives him a fake. They talked about mostly him, about how much money he has and how he can take her anywhere she wanted to go.

“Seems a little bit too good to be true. Are you married?” To that he gives her a smirk.

“That doesn’t matter,” he replies in English. There’s a tap on her shoulder and she turns to see the man she’s been ordered to track standing right in front of her.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Steve says. His eyes are friendly but there’s an edge to them. As if he could unhinge his jaw and snap Vincent in half. She bets his jaw is flexing under his bushy beard.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she says. “Who says I want to dance with you anyway?” Steve smirks.

“You’ve been eye-fucking me the whole night from across the room.” Dammit, she thought she was discreet but the lust got the better of her.

“I have not!” Her voice is indignant and she has to resist the urge to stick her tongue out.

“My dear, it appears this man will not relent until you say yes so I will go,” Vincent says. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, leaving her flustered. He leaves and Y/n turns to Steve.

“Thanks for ruining my dance. I think he could’ve been my sugar daddy.” Steve cocks an eyebrow and checks her out. Y/n shivers under his scrutiny.

“You would make a very good sugar baby,” he says. She rolls her eyes and catches a passing waiter with a tray of champagne and receives one. Steve watches her with intent as she takes a sip.

“So would you like to tell me why you’ve been staring at me all night?”

“I was not!” Steve chuckles and grabs her elbow to lead her to the outdoor space. Outside is beautifully decorated with twinkle lights and perfectly manicured topiaires. Steve leads them to a bench to sit.

“What brings you to this boring gala?” She asks as Steve settles next to her. What draws her in is his smell. It’s woody and sensual with notes of citrus. She wants to bury her face in his neck and inhale.

“Business.” Y/n looks at him and he’s smiling at her. There’s mischief in his eyes.

“And what might that be?”

“Unfortunately, that’s confidential sweetheart. What about you? Business or pleasure?”

“A little bit of both. Finding a sugar daddy falls under the umbrella of both.” Steve laughs and leans in closer. He stares into her, leaving Y/n hot under her imaginary collar.

“Have you found some pleasure tonight?” His voice is husky in her ear, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. Y:n leans into his space, he’s hypnotic almost. There’s something about him that draws her to him but she has a job to do.

“As tempting as that sounds, I shouldn’t.” Steve’s fingers drag up her exposed thigh thanks to the generous slit in her dress. “I have things I need to do early tomorrow morning.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to spend some more time with you.” Y/n smiles at his admission before standing up.

“I bet you would. Perhaps you’ll see me around. What’s your name?” She knows his name but she wants to hear him say it.

“Grant, and you?” Ah, his middle name. Smart.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you, Grant. See you around.” He gives her another once over as his tongue darts over his lower lips.

“Yes you will, Y/n.”

Tags: @getinmelanin011 @stars8melanin @bolontiku @great-neckpectations @blackgirloneshots @suz-123 @areubeingserved @uhlxis @honeychicana @darthmelanin @cab0930

PART 3

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu

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writing-mermaid · 5 years ago

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Baby Mine

Summary : When his daughter has a nightmare, Sam doesn't hesitate to sing her the lullaby her mommy used to sing to her.

Pairing : Sam Wilson x OC daughter

Warnings : Nightmare, mention of an accident and death

Word Count : 957

Square Filled : @star-spangled-bingo : Nightmare

Author’s note : My first Sam story !!! Let's hope that it'll be the beginning of many others ! And maybe some other stories with Saskia :) Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Baby Mine - Aurora

Masterlist

Star Spangled Bingo masterlist

Buy me a ☕

“Daddy !!! Daddy !!!”

Sam sits up on the couch. The cries come from Saskia’s room. Maybe he just dreamed about it and maybe she didn’t cry. He slumps again in the couch, looking at the stupid show on TV, that he doesn’t even really watch. A few minutes pass, and he hears nothing. That’s it, he dreamed Saskia’s cries. Sometimes it’s hard for Sam to distinguish if his daughter cries or not. He’s been so used to hear her cry when she didn’t.

“Daddy !!! Daddy !!!”

No doubt this time, Saskia is crying. Sam gets up from the couch and walks into the hallway of his personal floor in the Stark Tower. When he arrives at Saskia’s door, he turns up the unicorn lamp Natasha offered to his daughter for her fifth birthday. Saskia is sitting on her bed, her back against the headboard decorated with unicorns, birds and stars that Tony made for her, her teddy bear clutch to her chest.

“What’s going on my little bird ?”, Sam asks, sitting on the side of the bed.

“There’s a monster daddy”, she whispers, big tears falling down her cheeks, looking around, with her big dark brown eyes that she inherited from her father.

“Where is the monster baby ?”

“I don’t know, but I saw its shadow”, she answers, hiding her face behind her cover. “It was so big, daddy”, she adds, her words muffled by the cover on her face. “It crawls on the wall.”

“Do you want me to watch and chase it from your room ? I’ll take my suit to do it and put Redwing on it too”, he smiles down at Saskia, removing the cover from her face.

“Go fetch Redwing”, she answers, a smile on her face, “I’m sure he can do this alone and be my hero.”

“Oh really, Redwing, I thought I was your hero”, Sam says, pretending to be shocked by what Saskia said, leaning to tickle her little belly.

“No, no stop daddy, you’re my favorite hero”, she giggles, sliding on her mattress.

“Do you want me to check ?”

She just nods, and Sam rises from the bed, looking under every piece of furniture for the said monster. After five minutes, he comes back by Saskia’s bed.

“It must have left”, he says. “Probably went to another room.”

“Maybe it went to uncle Bucky’s room to annoy him”, Saskia giggles again.

Sam laughs loudly, if someone likes to annoy Bucky as much as he does, it’s Saskia. But Sam also knows that Saskia loves Bucky very much, and that he loves her back, as the other members of the Avengers. They all helped a lot after Janna’s death, he was lucky to have them in those sad times.

“Daddy, can you sing me a lullaby ?”, Saskia asks, sitting once again against the headboard.

“Which one baby ?”

“Baby Mine”, she states, laying in her bed, her teddy bear still close to her heart.

Baby Mine, just the mention of the song makes a lot of things coming back to Sam’s mind. It brings him back to the night before Janna’s death, one year and a half ago. She put Saskia to bed, while Sam was cooking dinner. He met her five years before during an Avengers mission. They clicked right away, Janna even made the first move, inviting him. She was so beautiful when he picked up for their first date. She was mestizo, green eyes, blond hair, Sam had to admit a little while later that for him it was love at first sight. The night before was like almost all their nights since Janna moved in and Saskia was born. Since day one, Janna sang the lullaby from Dumbo to Saskia to lull her to sleep. The next day, on her way to work, Janna get caught in an accident, and died instantly. It wasn’t an Avengers matter and when Sam arrived, it was too late. The love of his life died in a banal accident, caused by a drunk man who didn’t even have a license. Steve got him there while Bucky went to school to fetch Saskia. Sam spent the next weeks in a haze and Saskia didn’t understand why her mommy wasn’t coming home. Luckily for them, they have a family to support them.

“I’m not sure I’ll sing this as well as mommy did”, he sheepishly responds to his daughter.

“Please daddy, please”, she pleads.

“Well, if you absolutely want to.”

Sam takes a deep breath, winds up Saskia’s music box, which starts to play the Dumbo lullaby, and Sam starts to sing.

Baby mine, don't you cry

Baby mine, dry your eyes

Rest your head close to my heart

Never to part, baby of mine

Little one, when you play

Don't you mind what they say

Let your eyes sparkle and shine

Never a tear, baby of mine

If they knew all about you

They'd end up loving you, too

All those same people who scold you

What they'd give just for the right to hold you

From your hair down to your toes

You're not much, goodness knows

But, you're so precious to me

Sweet as can be, baby of mine

By the end of the song, Saskia has yawn three times and fell asleep her bear still in her arms. She’s softly snoring when Sam gets up from the bed, after watching at her sleep for a few minutes. He kisses Saskia’s forehead before lightning the night-light and turns off the lamp, before heading back to the living room where he slumps for the second time in the couch dozing in front of the television, before lulling himself to sleep with Saskia’s lullaby.

Taglist :

@the-geeky-engineer, @feelmyroarrrr, @amrita31199, @realgreglestrade, @hellomissmabel, @mandy19875, @howlingbarnes, @belleetlabeast, @theashhole, @sebbytrash, @crazychick010, @bionic-buckyb, @callamint, @just-another-fangirl777, @learisa, @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt, @mokacoconut, @marvelbase001, @thefiregypsy, @snowyseba, @theycallmebucky, @buckysberrie, @speakcroissant, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @tequilavet, @iamwarrenspeace, @melconnor2007, @buckybarnesappreciationsociety, @mrshopkirk, @poealsobucky, @maiden-of-gondor, @jurassicbarnes, @abovethesmokestacks, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @arawynn, @sebbys-girl, @captainrogerss, @murdocksmartinis, @supersoldierslover, @clintbartxon, @totallynotashieldagent, @crazy-little-thing-called-buck, @4theluvofall, @supernaturaldean67, @prettyyoungtragedy, @papi-chulo-bucky, @just-a-kj-blog, @lenavonschweetz, @forever-graphically-frozen, @buckysglow, @winterscldicr, @whothehellisbella, @bethanystan, @re2d2, @asirenscalling, @after-avenging-hours, @winchester-with-wings, @angryschnauzer, @callingmrsbarnes, @suz-123, @writingruna, @sugardaddytonystark, @angelicthor, @thatawkwardtinyperson, @themistsofmyavalon, @redgillan, @loricameback, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @farfromjustordinary, @you-and-buckyb, @bucky-made-me-do-it, @lovelykhaleesiii, @newmooneyfanfiction, @lovely-geek, @fanfictionjunkie1112, @thefanficfaerie, @littlemarvelfics, @cordytriestowrite, @firefly-in-darkness, @caplanreads, @my-emotional-self

#Sam Wilson #star spangled bingo #starspangledbingo #starspangledbingo2019 #star spangled bingo 2019 #Justine's writings #Baby Mine #Sam Wilson x OC Daughter #Saskia Wilson #Falcon #Captain America #Sam Wilson x OC #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel #MCU #Marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #daddy!Sam

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marvel--for--life · 5 years ago

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Starker + Pregnancy Part Two

Part One. Stucky Addition.

~ When the twins are born, Tony surprisingly is the one that’s terrified. He’s always wanted a kid, but when his twins are born, he’s too scared to even hold them. Peter didn’t notice right away, given that he was exhausted and still a little high on pain meds, but the second he notices Tony’s hesitation, he finds every excuse he can to get the twins in Tony’s hands.

~ Peter corners Tony one night in bed, straddling the older man and refusing to move until he talks. What Tony confesses to though breaks his heart. “I’m... afraid of hurting them,” Tony says softly, looking away from his partner. “All the bad things I’ve done... I don’t want to hurt them.”

“You’re not going to hurt them,” Peter whispers, leaning down to cup the elder’s cheeks and turn him gently until they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “Tony, you’re not a bad person. You’ve made mistakes. You can’t beat yourself up forever for it.”

“Peter, I’ve killed people. I’ve been the cause of people’s deaths,” Tony argues, pulling away from the gentle touch. “I... I can’t add you and the twins to that list.”

“You’re not going to,” Peter sighs, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and lightly kissing his cheek. “Tony, don’t you think all the good you’ve done for the world has made up for the mistakes of the past? When are you going to stop beating yourself up for it?”

“I can’t just turn everything off, Pete,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead in aggravation.

“I’m not asking you to turn it off,” Peter frowns, gently cupping the man’s face once more, “I’m just asking you to live, Tony. It took forever for you to give me a chance. Don’t do that to them.”

With tears in his eyes, Tony finally meets the youth’s gaze. “Okay.”

~ After talking about his fears, Tony begins to work on his fear. Peter no longer merely drops one of the twins in his arms since Tony had admitted that it did make him quite anxious, but Tony is definitely beginning to get more hands-on.

~ One night, when Peter wakes up in the middle of the night to the soft sound of the baby monitor, he’s surprised by what he hears. “Shhh, we don’t wanna wake Mommy up,” Tony’s voice filters through the speaker, bringing a smile to the teen’s face.

He carefully untangles himself from the blankets and walks to the twins’ room. Peaking into the massive space, he sees Tony standing in the middle of the room, little Anthony in his arms. The man is currently gently bouncing the little boy in his arms, speaking quietly as the baby makes small cooing noises.

Suddenly, Benjamin begins to fuss as well, probably wanting some attention, and Peter decides to make his presence known. “Oooh, baby,” he whispers, scooping up the other little boy. He looks over at Tony, smiling sweetly but shyly at him. “Was Daddy not paying you attention?” he coos at Benjamin, who blows a bit of spit at him before giggling. Peter smiles wider, kissing the chubby cheek of the larger twin before looking at his partner.

Tony is looking down at Anthony, not meeting his smiling partner’s eyes. When Benjamin continues to fuss softly, Peter knows he must be hungry, and so he heads to the rocking chair in the corner. “Oh, we’re hungry, hm?” he coos at the little boy.

Benjamin makes a small noise, and Tony chuckles at the sound, watching his mate shrug off his shirt and hold the small boy against his chest. Peter smiles at Tony as the larger of the two twins begins to nurse, and Tony moves towards his partner to settle in the chair beside him.

That’s the first night Tony is hands-on entirely on his own.

~ After their night curled up in the chairs with the twins, everything begins to settle. Tony’s fear has almost completely disappeared. He’s able to hold the boys without anxiety. He’s even able to be home alone with them without freaking out.

~ The twins both show the signs of having genius parents. They do everything early: first words, crawling, toddling on their little chubby legs. It’s a miracle they haven’t figured out how to get out of their playpen.

~ Bucky and Steve often steal the twins when their parents go out for Date Night every Friday. They have a room on their floor that’s a nursery, so sometimes the twins spend the night.

Peter never says no to Bucky when he asks to see the twins. He knows that seeing them is healing a part of both Bucky and Steve.

~ It’s true that Peter gets the news that he’s pregnant on New Year’s Eve, but it’s also true that he didn’t tell Tony until Valentine’s Day.

Tony still has the card where his eighteen-year-old partner wrote inside his card “You’re gonna be a Daddy! Again!!”

~ It doesn’t take as long to figure out there are multiples. Helen and Bruce believe it has to do with Peter’s spider bite, but this time, as a Mother’s Day present, he finds out there’s three.

~ It’s another gender reveal party where they find out that, somehow, they’re having three little girls. Tony is over the moon at the idea of having daughters.

~ They find out in a later ultrasound that the girls are not identical. Two of them will be, but one is fraternal. Neither parent minds though, happy just to have their babies.

~ Tony doesn’t have the same fear when the girls are born. There are a few nerves when they’re first born since they’re so small and so fragile, but he doesn’t hesitate to hold them in his arms.

~ Thanks to already having twins, it’s much easier to adapt to having babies again. Only, it is harder this time around with a set of troublesome twos twins.

~ The triplets follow in the steps of the twin, learning everything early, being exceptionally spoiled by their family, and being generally easy babies. And by generally, you should read sometimes.

The triplets were fussy, to say the least. They don’t like staying down for naps like the twins did, and if one starts to fuss, then the other two will follow. If one is hungry, the others grow hungry not long after.

~ When the triplets are finally old enough to play with the twins, it’s an interesting adventure. The boys upon meeting their sisters almost instantly cause them to start crying. Anthony reaches out and tugs on Mary’s pigtail hard enough that she starts to scream and cry.

Benjamin, in all childlike wonder, pokes at May until she too wakes up from her nap and begins crying. And then Maria, never one to be left out, starts to cry as well. Nevertheless, it didn’t end well.

~ When the boys are three and the girls are one, the boys suddenly seem to realize that they’d rather protect their sisters from everyone else.

Suddenly, no one can get close to the girls without having the twins approve. Their parents don’t have to go through the questioning, obviously, and Uncle Steve and Auntie Bucky get through with one question, but the other Avengers get mini-lectures from baby boys.

~ When Bucky and Steve have a baby, the Starker babies go over to meet little Grant within an hour of being born. The twins happily take up their usual place at Bucky’s right side, and the triplets go to his right. Peter and Tony stand there, offering smiles and reassurance as the new parents.

The twins and triplets are old enough to understand, and this time instead of harassing the baby, they poke at his little cheeks in wonder before settling down. Benjamin asks to hold Grant, and Bucky easily agrees, and honestly, thank God he did. Little Benjamin with his messy curls held back with the hot pink headband he borrowed from his sister that morning holding onto the tightly swaddled Grant with his fair blonde hair peeking out from under his hat.

It’s an absolutely adorable image.

~ As the twins and triplets grow older, they come into their own personalities. Anthony was properly named since he is almost exactly like his father. He’s the brave one of the bunch, exploring the new areas and fiddling with the mini science lab he was gifted for his fifth birthday.

Benjamin is a shy but sweet little one. He’s the one that seems to play with each sibling doing whatever they love to do. He’s also the one that likes to help Peter and Bucky in their tasks like baking and cleaning. Unsurprisingly, he’s also exceptionally close to Grant.

Maria is a lot like Anthony. She’s brave and headstrong, and she’s not afraid to follow her brothers and cousins right into the outdoors. She’s also shown excellent wrestling quality. She inherited Peter’s strength.

Mary is a lot like Maria but tamer. She wrestles with her brothers and cooks with her mother. She’s wild and carefree, known for running around their floor stark naked (no pun intended). She’s the one that plays in the puddles and the mud.

May is a lot like her sisters, and yet, she’s not. She likes to play, and she likes to draw. But she’s surprisingly the strongest of them all. They found her dangling from the ceiling on her third birthday, giggling like a mad woman. She’s also the one that lifted up the backyard table to look at an ant.

~ They’ve settled into their new lives. The kids are older and running around, and Bucky and Steve have just had their second baby when Peter suddenly realizes he misses them when they’re tiny.

~ Steve and Bucky take the kids when it’s time. Peter went off his birth control and went into heat, and since they were in sync, Tony went into rut right after.

It was a mess but passionate few days. They knew their pups were fine, but Tony’s pushing sixty, and Peter hasn’t had a heat since he was seventeen. Once their respected time has passed, they take a steamy bath together, soaking in Peter’s favorite bath salts.

They stay in the tub, kissing and relaxing. They enjoy their last hour of silence before heading to reclaim their children.

#starker #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony x peter #peter x tony #tonyxpeter #peterxtony #stucky #starker fic #starker fanfiction #fanfic #babies

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