#there's my whole three entwined lives story that I'm still trying to figure out but is based on a dream I had

[allisonreader]

I have seen this pass my dash a few times now, leaving me debating whether I should reblog it or not, but how can I not now? Lol. Thanks for thinking of me @lady-merian.

i had a dream that time travel was invented and too many people choose to travel back in time to save the titanic from sinking (the question of whether unsinking of the titanic deserved so much attention in the face of human history was the subject of both heavy academic and online discourse), which caused a rift in the space-time-continuum that led to the titanic showing up indiscriminately all over the world’s oceans and sea in various states of sinking.

this caused a lot of issues both in terms of fixing said space-time-continuum and in terms of nautical navigation, and after a long and heavy battle in the international maritime organization it was decided that the bureaucratic burden of dealing with this was to be upon Ireland, much to their dismay. the Irish Government then released an app for all sailors and seafarers so they could report titanic sightings during their journeys, even though they heavily dissuaded you from reporting them given the paperwork it caused.

anyway i woke up with a clear image of the app in my head and needed to recreate it for all of you:

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Four: The Foundation of Growth

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Silas is officially his own warning! Death of a parent, depressive undertones, grief, food, pls lmk if I missed any!

W/C: 3.3k

A/N: This one is loaded with feelings guys, I didn't mean for it to be so heavy handed in the grief area, but I hope the conversation Ezra has with Reader offsets that. I definitely got into my own feelings about loss with this one, so I'm really sorry in advance if it's too much to handle. Read at your own risk, I've said it before, this story is not for everyone, always take care of yourself first & foremost lovelies. I've got some fluff coming up to make up for this one! I'm still building the plot you guys, I hope you're still with me!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

~MAY THIRD OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Two weeks have since passed; Pa and Ezra had tediously worked the fields, sowed the seeds with care, and the fruition of all their work thus far has resulted in the small sprouts now growing from the Earth. ‘One of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts’, Ezra had said once while you gazed upon the rows of leaflets. Rebirth, growth, new beginnings. You find yourself envying the fresh buds, wishing to crawl into the dirt and begin again as well.

The shop is quiet today. Since you chased away the older women looking to learn more about Ezra Prospect, you haven’t heard a peep since. Quite surprising, though you count your blessings and hope the silence will hold, if only for a moment longer. The children play in the road with the stray town dog and you catch yourself giggling as you watch them. Such innocence in their youth. You only hope life treats them kinder than it had to you.

The shop bell dinging pulls you out of your thoughts and you stand straighter to greet the customer. Lucille Jones enters, without the overbearing presence of her mother – a shock in and of itself. She walks with her hands entwined in front of her, her head lowered some, and blonde ringlets of hair fall forward to frame her face, but she still carries a gentle smile on her face as she looks up at you.

As much as you pitied the outcome of your own life, you could not help but pity Lucille’s tenfold. Her father had fought and perished in the war, the only person to have shown her love and caring, and she was now left with her mother, who was ready to practically pawn her off to the next richest man to come through town.

Were it not for her mother’s meddling, you know the two of you would be great friends. She may be the only other person in this town who can empathize with your despondency; her dreams, likely, have been ripped from her as well. Though, it makes the curiosity spark within you as you wonder why exactly she has shown up in the shop so suddenly and without her mother.

“Hello, Lucille. It’s nice to see you,” you say politely. She nods in return. Timid girl. “May I interest you in anything? I’ve concocted a new healing agent to help with the pesky bug bites during the summer,” you offer gently.

“I-I’ve…” She squeaks. You cock your head slightly at her.

“Lucille, what has your nerves so rattled?”

“I’ve come as a favor to my mother. And Mrs. Foster and Mrs. McKenna.”

She faces you head on now, her soft voice filled with determination to complete her mission, yet her eyes, filled with regret, betray her. You raise your eyebrows in contempt and sigh deeply, and upon seeing your reaction, Lucille’s desire to help her mother gossip dissipates. She quickly steps forward, the heels of her white boots clacking against the wooden floors and the skirts of her pink dress flowing behind her.

“I’m so sorry, I did not wish to come and gossip. It is not my desire. My mother… She would not rest until I agreed to come here,” she laments, the quiver in her voice proving to you that she truly meant no harm. “I will pass on the news that you will speak to no one. Forgive me,” she says, her head hanging lower now than at the start of this conversation as she turns to walk away.

“Wait,” you call out. She stops in her tracks, but does not turn to face you again. You walk around the counter to her position. “Lucille… Why do you follow what your mother commands of you?” You ask softly.

“I…” She looks up in your eyes, tears forming in her own and you swear you feel a string in your heart snap at the sight. “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. You can choose to leave all this behind, leave this town and its capability to drain the life from you. You do have a choice for how you desire to live your life.”

You hold her by her shoulders as you speak and you realize you are sharing advice with her that could very well be said to your own face. You know it is not a possibility for you, but if you were able to help Lucille leave town and save her from feeling the same hopelessness as you, a part of you would be freed as well, knowing she will have been able to move on to better things.

She stares at you, the tears in her eyes now dried up and you see a small spark of hope in them, but before you can speak more to nurture that spark into a larger flame, the shop bell dings again. Based on the dark figure in your peripheral, the stomp of large, gaudy boots walking in, the heady scent of cheap cologne filling your nostrils, you know exactly who it is.

Lucille looks at the man first and you remove your hands from her shoulders, taking a step back and inhaling a deep breath, nearly choking on the fragrance now overpowering the shop.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor,” Lucille greets, bowing her head slightly.

“Hiya sweetheart,” he responds in a predatory voice and you snap your head in his direction.

“How can I help you, Silas?” You ask quickly before he can intimidate poor Lucille.

“I heard you’ve got some queer working on the farm now,” he chuckles.

“Do not call him that,” you bite and Silas immediately stops laughing.

“Darlin’,” he takes a step toward you and Lucille backs away against the shop wall. “Don’t tell me you have befriended him. You’re too good for the likes of a freak.”

“You don’t know him,” you reply, keeping your head held high with determination, but you instinctually flinch when Silas barks out a laugh.

“And you do?!” He says, grinning wickedly. “For your sake, honey, I truly hope not.”

“What is your meaning, Silas? He works on my farm, it is only natural that I will, and have, come to know him.”

“Perhaps,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more aggressive, octave. “Just be aware of the consequences if you come to know him as more than the simple farmhand he is.”

You wish to spit in his face, to continue defending Ezra, yet the instincts within you beg for you to stop. Though you’ve never been one to cower at Silas and his schemes, you’ve also never seen him as he is before you. Crazed, animalistic, frightening. You’re unsure of what he truly is capable of and you would hate for now to be the time to learn.

Despite the resolute expression you attempt to hold, your eyes must shine with the light fear he managed to instill in you with his threat because he flashes a satisfied smirk, a laugh escaping his flared nostrils as he backs away from you. He turns on his heels and faces Lucille again, huffing a goodbye to her and glancing over his shoulder at you before walking out.

“Are you all right?” Lucille asks softly. You only nod in return. “That man is…” She scoffs, understanding how loathsome he is.

“Not a man. A beast.”

~MAY FIFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As you exit the house, ready to meet Ezra at the place you now share together, you reach up to grab an apple from the tree for yourself and throw it in your bag along with your book. You take a step away then halt just as quickly. You consider Ezra, and smile to yourself as you reach up again to grab another apple from the branch, setting it gently inside your bag.

As you approach the oak, you see Ezra standing near the edge of the river, his hands clasped behind his back and head held high. He seems to be enjoying the scenery and you try to lighten your steps so as to not draw him from his serene moment, but the grass crunches under your boots as you walk, regardless of how careful you are, and Ezra turns his head in the direction of the noise, smiling brightly once he sees you.

“Dear Sunflower, I was afraid you would not show today,” he says as he turns his whole body to face you.

“My apologies,” you catch your lip in between your teeth, hiding the amused grin forming on your face, your heart skipping a beat at the knowledge that he had been waiting for your arrival. You dig in your bag in search of the apple you plucked specially for him. “A gift for keeping you waiting,” you say and hold the bright, red fruit out to him.

“Sunflower,” he gasps softly, as though you had just handed him a precious gem. “Thank you. A sweet and kind gesture from someone as equally generous; it will not be forgotten.”

You nod once while you bite the inside of your cheeks. What has gotten you so giddy? He merely gave his thanks for your offering, but the smile on his face, his eyes searching yours to clue him in on what has you so affected, makes a schoolgirl-ish giggle escaping your throat.

You reach for your own apple and drop your bag down in the grass, closer to the tree, and you step closer to the river, kneeling down and carefully dipping the apple into the cool stream to wash the skin. Ezra kneels down beside you and follows your lead.

“These are from the tree by the house. The last tree I was able to plant with my mother before she-”

You pause, immediately feeling your throat constrict and halting any further words from falling from your lips. You’ve not spoken so carefree of your mother to anyone, and the suddenness of your desire to do so catches you off guard. Though you have gotten to know Ezra as more than an acquaintance, the truth of the matter was he is still a stranger to you.

You sense the energy shift around you, and you bite your tongue in penance for turning such a peaceful time into an unpleasant one. Ezra stops washing his apple and leans up straight again while you keep your hands under the cold water, scared to look into his eyes and see judgement.

“Sunflower,” he calls and you startle slightly. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “If you were to wash that fruit any longer, I’m afraid it may lose its red complexion and turn into a shade of white.”

You cannot help the awkward chuckle that falls from your mouth and you lean up straight as well, still avoiding his gaze as you dry the apple with your apron. Aside from the running water next to you, the air is silent, neither of you speaking a word.

You continue drying the apple, turning it over and over in the cloth around your waist, even though you’re sure there are no water droplets remaining. Suddenly, a loud chomp is heard and your eyes snap up to the offending noise to see Ezra bringing the apple away from his lips, and the two of you break out into gentle laughter.

“Sunflower,” he begins after swallowing the piece of fruit in his mouth. “This is truly the sweetest apple I’ve ever bitten into, and I wholeheartedly believe it is because you and your dear mother were the ones to nurture the tree that grew it.”

The smile that remained on your face from your laughter slowly falls as you remember the day your mother suggested you plant the tree from a seed she accidentally bit into. You can recall her giggles as she grabbed you by the hand and pulled you outside, instructing you to grab the small shovel that was laid by the house while she held the seed in her closed fist.

Pa had said it would not take, chuckling and shaking his head as your mother shooed him away, reprimanding him for cursing the seedling before it had a chance to grow. And, with much love and dedication that your mother insisted on carrying out together, the small tree grew, and soon after, sprouted the shiny, red globes.

“I… I apologize for the sudden change of atmosphere, Ezra,” you say quietly, glancing up at him sheepishly and, to your surprise, are met with a gentle smile of understanding across his face.

“Please do not apologize for reminiscing upon your loved one. It is a hobby I frequently partake in. The memories… They are what keep them alive. No longer with us in the physical sense, yet they live in the grass, in the rivers. In the trees.”

“Like the Green?” You ask shyly as you pick at the stem of your apple.

“Yes. They are born again, just in a different form, but always here to remind you of life. Much like the apple tree is a reminder of your mother.”

You wonder to yourself if Ezra has been a victim of loss as well. The way he speaks of it seems as though he talks from experience, but you do not dare ask. As uncomfortable as it can be for you to speak about your mother, you’d hate to bring that discomfort to him as well. Yet… He speaks so openly, so calmly, that you feel yourself longing to open up.

“Perhaps if I dream of the Green, I would see my mother again,” you say under your breath, feeling the tears that have so long desired to flow build in your eyes with an unbearable pressure.

“You do not need to wait until your dreams, dear Sunflower. You only need to look around at the life surrounding you to know she is here. Close your eyes and she will appear.”

You only have the strength to nod, the lump stuck in your throat as thick as Pa’s dreadful grits he so enjoys making during the winter. A small laugh bubbles over as you remember the way your mother put up the facade of enjoying his grits only to empty them in a bucket to be fed to the cows at a later time.

You look back up at Ezra and he smiles, his eyes shining with compassion, no hint of judgement or scrutiny to be found, and the lump in your throat vanishes, comfort radiating from his person onto you like a warm, wool blanket.

“Would…” You hesitate, but an overwhelming urge to share with Ezra commands you to continue. “Would you like to see her?”

“I would love to,” he nods gently.

You smile softly, leaving your apple to rest in your lap while you carefully pull at the chain around your neck until the small locket emerges from underneath your blouse. You scoot closer to Ezra and he mimics your movement, leaning closer to you as well and you recognize that this is the first time he has been in such close proximity to you.

You shove the tip of your fingernail between the crevice of the locket until it pops open, revealing the black and white photograph of your mother that you yourself have not taken the opportunity to look at in far too long. The length of the chain is still too short for Ezra to get a proper look, so he leans in closer, your heads mere inches apart.

You feel your pulse thumping against your chest, the vein in your neck throbbing as you feel the heat emanating from him. He smells of cedarwood and the hay bed he sleeps on, a light scent of sweat from working the fields, and something almost sweet, a unique aroma to be found only on his person and no one else.

“She is very beautiful, Sunflower. It is as plain as the nose on my face that you are her daughter,” he compliments, backing away from you slowly and you giggle softly as you place the locket back into your blouse. “What is her name?”

“Emma,” you smile genuinely, for once feeling not one ounce of sadness as you say her name aloud.

“Emma. She is now the sun, moon, and stars that shine down on you, Sunflower.”

You smile once again and nod as you place your hand on your chest, feeling the cool metal press against the warm skin covering your sternum. You close your eyes and let the sun’s rays warm your cheeks as you take a deep breath, heeding Ezra’s thoughtful words and imagining that your mother is, indeed, the sun kissing your face.

“Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts, Ezra,” you say after a beat of prolonged silence. As you look over at him, you see his head lowering, too, as if he had mimicked your action and let the warmth of the sun fall on his face as well.

“You have no need to thank me, dear one. I am elated you deemed me worthy to share your thoughts with. If you ever desire to share again, please know I am here,” he says softly as he smiles.

“You are a very good friend, Ezra. I am happy to know you.”

“And I, you.”

You look down at your lap to your forgotten apple, raising it to your mouth to take a bite and Ezra resumes eating his as well. Once you’ve both bitten down to the core, you both toss them into the river and you stand up, allowing the blood to circulate through your legs again before heading over to the tree.

You bend over to collect your bag along the way and your book falls from the opening as you stand straight. Before you are able to bend down to grab it, Ezra is already there, lifting it in his hands while he reads the cover.

“‘Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland’?” He smiles quizzically.

“I understand it is for children, but I quite enjoy the adventure and wonder of it,” you say, smiling from embarrassment.

“I do not judge what a young lady chooses to read in her spare time, Sunflower,” he grins as he hands the book to you. “I have yet to read this one. Will you read it aloud for me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “If you’d like.”

You both sit down in the grass, leaning your backs against the trunk of the oak tree as you find the page you last left off. The scene of Alice’s trial has Ezra suddenly captivated as to what caused Alice to be put on trial, unfairly it seemed. You do your best to explain, which only produces more questions from Ezra.

You giggle at his frustration over the treatment of this poor girl and decide to start the book over for Ezra to follow along, a genuine happiness washing over you at the thought of reading this story to Ezra for the weeks to come. He leans in closer, as though the distance you had between you previously was too far for him to hear you and you stumble over your words slightly.

You still do not understand this feeling overcoming you; the only thing you do understand is that you do not feel the need to place a guard around yourself as you do with the others in town. You want to share with Ezra, you feel comfortable enough with him already, though he has only been here for two weeks.

Yet, you feel as though you know him better than most around you and you feel that he understands you better than even your Pa. It frightens you, yet you have no desire to run from it, but rather towards it. A new path you find yourself carving into your mind.

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @quietpainter @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi

[starlightbisexual]

Hullo!!! Shy anon here, you're one of my favorite blogs so i was wondering if you happen to have any marvel fic recs? I'm running low and it's summer, so any fic would be appreciated (as long as it's not explicit). Any suggestions? ^^

hi love, you're so sweet thank you!! 

i have about a million fics to rec so this might be a bit long and im gonna put it under the cut. personal faves are marked with an !!!

(when you say “not explicit” i took that to mean they’re not tagged as explicit on ao3. i cant promise that none of these fics contain sex/other mature themes. it’s probably best to always read the tags on each fic just to make sure!)

ofc this list isn’t exhaustive, just the first ones that popped into my head! if you or anyone else wants some more please come ask, i love discussing fics!

those on mobile: note the read more

slide to answer (mature, 6k)

“What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

lonely houses off the road (teen, 17k)

Barnes is now glaring at him for some reason. It’s somewhat terrifying but also, oddly, a little reassuring— because that’s emotion right there, which means there’s still somebody behind those eyes. Somebody who seems to think Sam is being a bit slow on the uptake. “Time parameters exceeded. Mission failed.”

“Wait.” Sam narrows his eyes. “Is this some kind of… report? Debriefing?”

“Mission report,” confirms Barnes, looking pleased. Well, looking slightly less murderous than before.

In which various people deal with things they never signed up for, but at the end of the day no one’s particularly surprised.

i love you like rlb (teen, 3k)

I love you like rlb has become a well-known, accepted and valuable component of American vernacular. The meaning of the letters ‘rlb’ is unknown, but is uniformly considered to be a statement of a great romantic love, commitment and sacrifice.

It was Dernier as first said it. Steve never imagined that something like that could have survived the war and all the years in between.

In which Tony goes insane trying to figure out why that phrase affects the Cap so much, Bucky teases the press, and Steve and Bucky love each other like rlb.

i was found and now i don’t roam these streets (mature, 15k)

They’ve decided to start producing Bucky Bears again, now that he’s all shiny and redeemed and fighting for good on this big Avengers misfits team. “He has a little shiny gray arm,” Bucky says, wiggling the stuffed arm in question, one of the tweaks made in the new model. It takes Steve a second to realize that Bucky’s got a small smile on his face, actually looks a little bit proud around the eyes.

Or, Bucky relearns himself and how to be on a team, the rest of the Avengers try to get answers, and everyone watches too much Criminal Minds.

roll on (mature, 89k)

In 1938, there’s a bar in Brooklyn called Sully’s where people are safe to be themselves. Behind the bar, a girl pours drinks. She’s always got a big smile for Steve and she says queer like it’s a good thing. On a regular basis, she takes his shoulders in her hands and tries to shake sense into him, saying, “When will you do something about that best friend of yours?”

In 2012, Bucky’s gone, but Steve’s not, and the girl’s hands are too old to shake him. She does her best to make him see sense anyway.

Steve had people who loved him before the war, and it turns out a few of them are still around when he finally comes home.

one cloud feels lonely (mature, 72k, !!!)

“I’m going to take a break for a while,” Steve said quietly, not looking at T’Challa, not knowing that this was what he was gonna do until the words were out of his mouth. “I can’t be on a team right now.”

T’Challa nodded as if he understood. “Alright.”

AKAIn which Steve and Bucky both figure out how to be a person again, and it still takes them over 130 years.

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth (not rated, 18k, !!!)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm.2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.)3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

asked and answered (teen, 5k)

“You should marry me, Bucky.”

“What?”

“You should marry me.” Steve said again. “Sister Eustace said that marriage is the purest form of love, and I love you more than anybody. So we should get married.”

Steve and Bucky. Five marriage proposals (and one time they didn’t have to ask).

1917 (mature, 15k, !!!)

Born on March 10th, 1985 at the Brooklyn Hospital Center, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was named after Sergeant Barnes, Captain America’s childhood best friend, who died when he fell off a train in the Swiss Alps.

In 2008, Peggy Carter donates to the Smithsonian letters Captain Rogers wrote to Sergeant Barnes in 1944—

After he fell.

Some lives are eternally entwined.

to be vunerable is needed most of all (mature, 118k)

Steve is a shy comic book artist and meets his new neighbour, Bucky Barnes.

In which there are awkward longings, meddling best friends, comic conventions, heartache, lemons, video games, dorkiness, dancing and two cute boys.

there should be stars (teen, 45k)

“All memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.But sometimes there were good times.Love was good. I loved your crooked sleepbeside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great warslike ours. There ought to be awardsand plenty of champagne for the survivors.”- Sandra Cisneros

Or, it takes them decades.

fever dream (mature, 9k)

“Buck.” Steve says, soft as he can, so he won’t start to cough again. The light from the stove hits his face just right, makes his eyes light up bright, spring sky blue. Bucky’s head aches just looking at him.

1942, in fits and starts.

they say love is a virtue (mature, 22k)

“I have a bet,” Tony announces to the room. He stands up, repeating himself a few times so that everyone is forced to stop the game and look up at him. He looks straight into Bucky’s eyes when he goes, “I bet you fifty dollars that you and Steve can’t spend a whole week pretend married without realizing that you’re both in love with each other.”

the smithsonian guard (gen, 8k)

Bucky makes a friend.

cross this river to the other side (teen, 14k)

Here is the truth about Captain America and the Howling Commandos that every World War II historian must come to accept at one point or another: we will never know everything. We won’t even come close.

So much was lost with the untimely death of Captain America. While the man beneath the uniform sunk to the bottom of the North Atlantic, the myth lived on, only to grow bigger and more unwieldy as the years went by. Now, it is near impossible to tell fact from fiction, to separate out truth from propaganda.

In 1943, the Howling Commandos wrote goodbye letters to be given to their loved ones in the event of their deaths.

In 2014, Sharon Carter finds those letters in a tin can in an abandoned HYDRA base.

captain fantastic and the pineapple king (teen, 30k, !!!)

Shit.She hadn’t noticed him yet. Maybe he could turn and leave without them noticing – Sam would understand. Sam was the most empathetic person he knew. He wouldn’t scold Steve for coming home spice-less to avoid an awkward encounter with an ex. Surely.They drew closer.Fuck.Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me…"Steve?”Fuck.In which Steve is saved from his ex in a grocery store, Bucky Barnes is Way Too Chill about absolutely everything, and Sam has had enough of all of these goddamn pineapples in his fucking house.Or: The five times Steve received a pineapple (and one Piña Colada) and the one time he didn’t

haha, jk (teen, 13k)

(A tale of Not Unrequited Love)

Steve: I love you.Bucky: oh no.(and other fallacies)

Bucky learns to never say never when it comes to the effect his best friend can have.

apes debemus imitari (we should imitate the bees) (gen, 15k)

Steve operates a fruit & veg stand at a farmer’s market. Bucky keeps bees and has started up a honey shop just opposite. They’re failing to get along. Steve gets along a lot better with the anonymous friend he’s been writing letters to. In fact, he’s rapidly falling for him.

it’s no coincidence (teen, 109k)

The kids immediately scream, “Trick-or-Treat” before they see who opens the door.

The strange resident looks between the two kids, then at the adults, and his eyes widen in horror.

“It’s October already?”

Okay, Bucky thinks. This guy is probably high.

don’t ask (mature, 21k, !!!)

Captain America and Bucky Barnes were like brothers. Everyone knew that.

most ardently (teen, 9k)

Baron Grant, nothing more than a small, sickly country gentleman with no fortune and very little to recommend him, has just poured a glass of claret over Duke Barnes, a wealthy lord with the world at his feet.