#you can literally see his brain short circuiting when he looks at sam…. this is fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

Text

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too.

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever?

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas!

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

517 notes · View notes

starryevermore · 4 years ago

Text

A Gift For a Gift

I’m sorry this is so long and if you see any grammatical errors, no you don’t <3 lol anyway I just wanted to write something for you since you write so much for us! Thanks so much Kayla, we love you! (I also cannot for the life of me figure out the read more thing, so I am sorry again lol) (Kayla here! I added a read more for you 🥰)

Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day. For most of his teenage life, if he saw those stupid hearts and those goddamn teddy bears, he was instantly in a worse mood. Most years, it made sense why he hated the holiday. He’d been single a long time, and even when he had a girlfriend, he hadn’t had the money to give his girl a proper date. He always tried, but it never seemed good enough. His mind would always go back to one year in particular where he’d tried to set up a picnic for a girl in the living room of his house. He was 15 so he had no car or money, and it was Kansas, so there was a foot of snow on the ground anyway. He’d gone all out. He asked his mom to bring home some balloons and flowers and all that gross shit just so the aesthetic was perfect. He then tried to actually cook food. Himself. At fifteen years old. For the first time. When he tells this story and says Mama Brock came running with the fire extinguisher, he’s not kidding. His mom made the meal.

At the cost of his whole day (and nearly his home), his girlfriend came over and laughed. Not in a cute way or in disbelief, but laughed in his face over his efforts. She picked apart every inch of the room he had decorated and told him it was ugly. Apparently he had used the wrong shade of red? He hadn’t realized that it mattered, but “barnyard red” was not right. She said the balloons were tacky and the flowers were meaningless because they weren’t roses. She refused to eat the meal because it was cold (since she’d shown up an hour late), and then broke up with him on the spot.

So yeah. Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day most of the time. This year was different, though. He had met the love of his life. He was convinced you were the one he was supposed to be with all this time. He’d waited and it was worth it. And you loved Valentine’s Day. The pinks and reds made you happier than anything else. He’d never seen someone get so giddy over seeing a pink bear with a heart on it’s foot until he’d met her. Every trip to Target was punctuated with a visit to the dreaded candy section. But he saw you smile at every silly pun on the backs of the card boxes. You laughed at the ridiculous couples games. You hugged at least one bear every time and forced it to hug him too. You were happy. This time of year and celebration made you happy. And damn it that was enough to put aside his petty hatred for this capitalist cash-grab of a holiday and come up with the most kickass Valentine’s Day date he ever could.

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be. He was a hopeless romantic, but he was also hopelessly self-destructive. He would come up with an idea and every scenario started beautifully in his imagination, but every time each scenario ended with something awful. He thought you two could go to the beach, but then he imagined you falling into the water and getting salt in your eyes. Maybe you two could go to the movies, but then you could get stuck in front of two teenagers who weren’t aware that just because a room is dark, the sounds they were making weren’t audible.

This cycle went on for a long time. It took so long, he actually forgot what day it was. He’d begun planning the second February hit. He checked the calendar and realized he only had a week until The Day. Fuck. Had it really been a week? He felt like his head was swimming. His final brain cell was short circuiting and his head literally had no thoughts left in it, only fuzz. His head hadn’t felt this empty while still spinning since he’d learned about imaginary numbers in Algebra II. And he’d never actually learned imaginary numbers. Sam took that test for him. Suddenly, he had one thought.

“I gotta ask Sam.”

Sam Golbach, per usual, had about a million suggestions. Colby reasoned that since he’d had more experience having an actual girlfriend on The Day, Sam should have more ideas than himself. The only issue is that the brain cell Colby had frazzled trying to come up with a date was usually shared between him and Sam, so Sam had all of the same ideas Colby did. He suggested the beach and the movie and the dinner and blah blah blah, so Colby was literally at square one. Sam was supposed to fix all of these issues. He had the brain and the longer relationship, so what the fuck? Why had he picked this time to not have any original idea?

“Colby.” Sam shook Colby’s arm.

“Jesus dude, you scared me. What?”

“You’ve been staring at the carpet for like 30 seconds. I know what it looks like when you’re mentally drifting. That’s the only kind you can do, if our video had anything to prove.” Sam smirked, knowing full well that Colby had taken second place in that challenge.

“Shut up, dude. You had more time driving manual. I just learned there.” Colby knew his defense was weak, but it was a defense nonetheless.

“And you did well.”

“Don’t patronize me. I killed that car like twelve times. It feels like I’m going to end up doing the same with this relationship.” Colby sighed and rubbed his face. He held his hands there, flush against his cheeks. He could feel himself heating up and the cool metal of his rings, one of which you gave him, always helped keep him grounded. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook him again.

“Would you shut the fuck up?”

Colby removed his hands from his face, side-eyeing Sam, surprised “What the hell, Sam?”

“Someone needed to say it. You’re talking yourself down again. Yeah, you killed the car. But you learned. You’ll do the same thing here. If you mess up, who cares? You tried! You need to realize that perfection isn’t attainable, so stop trying to attain it. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Anything you do will make her happy. Because it’s you. She loves you. Any situation or plan can go wrong. We of all people should fucking know that. But don’t let fear stop you. You never have before. So what is your problem?” Sam asked, softening the harshness of some of his words by rubbing comforting circles into Colby’s shoulder.

Sam knew Colby. He knew Colby was afraid. He’d been hurt so many times, and sadly many of those times, the hurt was self-inflicted. Colby held himself to an insane standard that he’d never expect anyone else to live up to, but this was Colby and Colby deserved harsh critique apparently. He refused to let his friend scare himself into doing nothing and then letting that nothing ruin what he had going. (Y/N) and Colby were made for each other. Anything Colby did made your heart swell and just knowing he put in effort would be more than enough. But Colby didn’t know that, or rather, refused to acknowledge that. Sam was getting tired of it.

“You know her. Just do something she’ll like. Not whatever anyone tells you you should do. She loves you” Sam said, squeezing Colby’s shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the arm of the chair. Colby smiled and looked at him.

“Thanks Sam. You’re right, once again. I don’t know how you always know what to say. I love you, dude.”

“Hold up, I’m not your valentine. I said she loved you, not me. Save all that mushy shit for her. You’re wasting your soft energy.” Sam laughed, standing to leave.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Us emo boys can only express positive emotions twice a week and I’ve wasted once on you. How could I be so dumb?” Colby shot sardonically back, returning to his computer to look up restaurants.

Sam laughed again and walked to the door. He went through and closed it behind him, but Colby knew he was still on the other side, hand on the handle. Colby turned just as Sam quickly stuck his back into the room, quickly whispering “I love you too” before slamming the door again and audibly running down the hall to his room. Colby laughed out loud that time. His friend was an idiot, but they’d be so lost without each other.

Time to plan the date Colby knew you would like, not the date that was in the movies. He still hated Valentine’s Day.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well everything was going to shit, just as Colby had feared. He had been so proud of himself. He thought of an amazing night. First, you two were going to go to your favorite restaurant and have the meal you’d been saying you craved for two weeks. He’d even called the place ahead of time, asking if they could play your song at a certain time, since they had a live band. He may have had to use some of that influencer clout to get that request, but it was okay. Did he feel like an absolute rat that just ran through the New York City sewer system for doing it? Absolutely. Would he ever do it again? If you asked him to, probably. But not for a long time.

However, what had failed to happen was a valid reservation. It was Valentine’s Day in Los Angeles, after all. There would be no place in the whole city that wasn’t booked to full capacity. Colby knew that. That’s why he made the reservation directly after his talk with Sam. A week ago. The restaurant accidentally double booked your table. And the other couple had come before you two. Directly before you. As in they were the ones in front of you in line.

“Well, is there anything we can do?” Colby asked

“Not really, the whole place is booked all night. I’m so sorry. You’ll get a full refund?” The hostess looked down and cringed, seemingly preparing for the Karen reaction. You and Colby just looked at each other and looked back at her apologetically. It must be hell to work here on The Day and deal with all of these rich assholes with an elitist complex. Which is exactly what you said to her. She just laughed lightly and brushed it off, but you and Colby saw the look of acknowledgement in her eyes. You both said your thank yous and goodbye while walking towards the main sidewalk where you’d parked. That had gone right, at least. You both were ecstatic that you’d actually found reasonable, legal parking close to the restaurant in downtown LA. That was a feat.

Or at least, Colby thought the spot was legal. The ticket on his windshield begged to differ.

“What the hell? We were gone for like ten minutes!” Colby exclaimed, annoyed but impressed at the dedication of the PEO in the area.

You laughed heartily. Colby’s little cloud of poor luck seemingly didn’t take a holiday. Just one of the nuances you loved about him. You’d always have a story. You could see the doubt creeping into his face and you were about to reprimand it, but you faintly heard your favorite song playing in the distance. The band inside had taste! You gasped and smacked his arm, flapping your other hand excitedly.

“Listen!” You said, pulling him back from the car and taking his hands.

Colby looked down and checked his watch.

“7:45. That’s right.” He flicked his eyes up to your face, coughing awkwardly as he rubbed his neck.

“You planned that?” You smiled, taking his hand back again and pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah… I tried anyway. I planned to be able to hear it a little better, but this is a lesson in using Instagram followers for special treatment I guess.”

You laughed again and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you.

“Well, don’t ever do that again obviously, but let’s dance like we did that one time the bouncer wasn’t convinced we were old enough to get into the club.” He giggled at that, remembering the look of bewilderment you two shared when Sam and Kat walked in with no issue. Of course you’d both forgotten your IDs that night. You decided to dance right outside anyway.

“Okay, but aren’t I supposed to be the one taking the lead?”

“Fuck gender roles.” You smiled, pulling him even closer and tucking your head beneath his chin, swaying him to the song playing from inside. He laughed again and let you move him around. He wasn’t good at dancing on his own anyway, so maybe you leading was the better decision. He was just letting things happen, slowly allowing himself to just let go and enjoy dancing with you. He felt silly and like he’d failed already, but he was keeping it together. There was still more planned. Where he couldn’t keep his poker face was when you -attempted- to spin him but actually just smacked his face with his own arm. You both giggled lightly and you decided to seal the deal with a sorry attempt at a dip. You forgot that he was taller than you, so gravity decided to join the forces against you two that night. Thankfully you were both near the car still, because Colby was able to keep both of you from the pavement by hitting his back against the door and grabbing onto the handle. You both were laughing hysterically at this point, unable to really form coherent sentences.

“Just get in the car,” You got out eventually, wiping the tears from your eyes. “And never tell anyone.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Colby said, opening the door for you.

“This is one of the chivalrous acts that I will accept, so don’t ever stop doing that.” You joked, kissing his cheek lightly as you got in.

“Note taken.” Colby laughed, closing the door behind you.

“So Romeo, now that the masquerade is bust, where are we headed?” You asked once he got in and started driving.

“I know that was supposed to be a reference, but I haven’t thought about that play since I was twelve,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re going somewhere I think of when I think of you.”

You smiled softly at him with that. This boy was a big ol’ softie and he really pretends he’s not. You never bought it. He was incredibly sentimental and sweet, so you knew that wherever you all were going was going to mean a lot to him. Therefore, it would mean a lot to you too.

You were driving for a long time. You were no longer anywhere close to downtown and you couldn’t help but ask a million questions. Where are we going? Are we there yet? Why are we going here? Where are we going?

“You’ve already asked that.” Colby smiled, endeared by your only-child behavior but slightly annoyed nonetheless.

“You got me there, Brock. But where are we going?” Colby groaned, leaning forward into the wheel. He reached to his phone and handed it to you with the Aux cord.

“Please, pick something and stop asking!”

You smirked and went to his music. Usually, you would go straight to the songs you wanted, but you were being nosy. You decided to go to his playlists and see what he had saved. You were scrolling past the expected “editing” list or the “late night” playlists, but stopped when you saw it. The most recently added list was one simply titled, “Her” with a small heart next to it, the black one of course. You cocked your eyebrow and clicked it. You started looking through the songs and saw all of the songs you’ve recommended to him over your relationship, along with some outliers. You glanced over at him, seeing if he was paying attention.

He wasn’t. His brain was going at a million miles an hour. He felt like a comeplete fuck up. How was he the one table that was double booked? How had they managed to hit intense traffic at eight and made this drive take half an hour? How were you not bored out of your mind? There’s no way you were having any fun. He continued to stew in these intense thoughts when he’s snapped back to reality by the opening chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Shit. She found it. He thought. He risked a glance at you, blushing bright red. Please don’t…

You were smiling widely at him. “You have a playlist for me?”

“Oh god.”

The rest of the drive flew by, you two screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs once Colby’s embarrassment faded. It reminded you of the first time you had hung out, just you two. You’d discovered a mutual love for early 2000’s emo music, so you two screamed your voices away to the sweet dynamics of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy until two that morning. You smiled quietly, remembering the fun of that day. You knew this was one special dumbass that day, especially after figuring out he had misheard “down in an earlier round” from Sugar, We’re Going Down as “down on a merry-go-round” for literal years. You had scream-laughed at that and corrected him, laughing even harder as the realization spread across his face.

“Holy shit.” He’d whispered. “It’s been years…”

“Hey, we’re here.” Colby startled you out of your daydream. You smiled at him as he climbed out of the car and sprinted to open your door. You laughed, remembering your comments at the restaurant. He opened the door and let you out, beginning the walk towards the location. You recognized this location. It was the neighborhood of the chandelier tree from one of his earliest vlogs. You had seen it and begged for him to take you there. It seemed so cute. You smiled widely at him, placing your hand in his. You swung his hand lightly as you walked, knowing it drove him crazy.

“Would you stop that?” he playfully asked, feigning annoyance. You responded by swinging his arm as far back as you could, saying,

“Careful Brock. Watch the tone or I’ll try and dip you again.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?” He asked cheekily, taking the piss.

You laughed again and smacked his arm as you turned the corner to the tree. Or the location of the tree, as there were no chandeliers.

“What?” Colby asked, mostly to himself. You both looked at each other, confused. You got closer, deciding to let go of each other’s hands as Colby went ahead, trying to see if it was just around another corner or if he was on the wrong block. You pulled out your phone and asked Google.

“Oh, baby. They took this down last month!” You frowned, calling out to him.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, clearly disappointed. Another fuck up. He hadn’t even thought to look up if it was still here or not “Shit.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say. You were about to reassure him when he lights up, turning to you and exclaiming,

“The park! That pretty lookout Sam and I used to go to all the time! It’s like ten minutes from here, we could go there. I’m sure it’s awesome right now.”

You smiled and were nodding in agreement when a loud bang made the two of you jump ten feet. You looked quizzically at each other when your mutual question was answered by a sudden downpour of rain and flash of lightning. A thunderstorm, of fucking course. Colby removed his jacket, holding it above your head as you both made a break for the car.

After your dead sprint, you both sat in your seat, heaving breaths and looking out in pure wonder. You looked over to Colby, ready to laugh at the absurdity of the whole night when you saw him slumped forward on the wheel, refusing to look at you, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Colby, baby, are you okay?” you asked lightly, grabbing his arm. He turned even farther away, opting to lean his head against his window to cool his heating face. He refused to let you see the single tear that was leaving his eye.

“I’m sorry.” was all he muttered.

You were shocked. “Baby, you don’t control the weather. If you did, I’d be pissed you haven’t fixed global warming yet.” You attempted to joke. He didn’t laugh.

“I failed again. I just wanted to make something special for you. I know you love Valentine’s Day and it means a lot to you. I hate this fucking holiday but I wanted to make you happy. But I fucked it up. Just like I do everything. I mean, it’s raining! In L.A.! What the fuck! There’s nowhere open that’s not booked and it’s already nine and I haven’t even gotten you food and you probably have never had a worse valentine’s-” he tried to rant, but you covered his mouth with your hand. His eyes darted to you, surprised.

You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see how much fun you were having or how much pressure he’d put on himself to make everything perfect. You should’ve guessed as much. You reached your other hand around the back of his neck, moving the one from his mouth to his cheek, kissing him.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you said, pulling back. He barked a short laugh out, surprised.

“You know, you’re not the first one to tell me that about this whole thing.”

“You talked to Sam about this date?”

“How’d you know?” He looked at you again, fully flabbergasted. You laughed.

“Do you talk to anyone else about stuff important to you?” He shrugged, clearly thinking it through.

“Other than you, no, not really.”

“Anyway, he’s right. I don’t care that stuff didn’t work out. You put more thought into this night than anyone else has ever put into any date I’ve ever been on. You poured your heart into it. You thought every little thing through. You tried. And even when things didn’t work out, we had fun. We reminisced on our relationship so far. We danced, screamed songs, and ran through the rain. You tried to give me a super involved date. You gave me a damn movie instead.”

Colby scoffed at the irony in that. He did exactly what he was trying not to do. Fairly typical. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, getting his attention again.

“You’re drifting, stay with me.” Colby laughed and rolled his eyes. You stilled your thumb, confused.

“You and Sam are literally on the same wavelength.”

“Or we are the ones who know you best. I think I’ve got him beat on the loving you, though,” you paused. “Maybe.”

You both chuckled again.

“But seriously, Colbs, if you’re here, I’m happy. You make anything fun. That’s why I’m in love with you. I know you think about everything and try your fucking hardest. You are the sweetest man I know. That’s why I picked you. Remember, I had a line of suitors waiting,” you winked, knowing Colby knew that all too well.

“God, don’t remind me.” He groaned. He leaned his cheek into your hand, allowing you to hold him. That’s how you knew he loved you. He let his guard down and let you love him. He doesn’t do that for many, and you knew that. You loved that he let you in. He lightly kissed the hand that was still caressing his cheek, smiling when you pulled him close again. You two stayed like that for a while, kissing softly while the rain pattered against your windows. It really was like a movie. The gray, swirling clouds and soft wisps of the wind lulled you both into a serene sense of young love. You belong here. This was you two. Shit was going to go wrong. And you were going to love each other through it. That’s what made you two special. You don’t want perfection. You want each other.

“So,” Colby said softly as he pulled back. “How’s about we pick up some In-And-Out and binge watch Attack on Titan in the big theatre?” You smiled again, squeezing the back of his neck one more time.

“Fuck yeah.”

So, that’s what you all did. And it was the best night ever, just you two being goofy and in love. And okay, Colby may be coming around to Valentine’s Day. Or maybe it’s just you. He thinks it’s just you. Either way, he can’t wait to spend the rest of them just like this.

94 notes · View notes

americasass91 · 4 years ago

Note

This is my stucky fic idea. Basically after this dream of bucky’s, Steve has (coincidentally) started showing off his strength to him. One day, Bucky is horny and randomly asks Steve if he could bench press him. Steve’s gets cocky and replies by flexing before easily benching Bucky. After showing off, Steve lets Bucky feel his muscles, and then after a while he lifts him to the bed for smut. This isn’t dream, and is not yet an offical request. If you do accept, do you need me to post this again?

Well hello again! Here is my second Stucky request for this lovely Anon! I hope it’s to your liking. This is a part 2 to this 👉🏻Hidden Feelings. But it can be read as a stand alone. I did tweak this just a bit. But it’s still filled with Stucky goodness! This might be my last Stucky fic for a little while. I’m still not 100% comfortable writing them. But I couldn’t let this anon down! I hope it’s what you had in mind!

Revealed Feelings

Rating: Explicit (literally almost all of my fics are😂)

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, m/m, hand jobs, cum, Bucky and Steve admitting feelings, language

💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

Ever since Bucky had that very erotic dream about Steve, he’s been avoiding him like the plague.

He had told himself it was just because he was horny. That he couldn’t want his best male friend in a sexual way. But that all got shot to hell when he decided to take home a girl he met in a bar the other night.

He had no problems getting going. He was actually enjoying himself as he bent Stacy? Stephany? Sylvia? over the back of his couch and was plowing into her from behind. Enjoying the little moans coming from her mouth. He had a tight grip on her hip with his metal hand and had the other buried between her legs.

He could feel her coming and normally that’s when he would let go as well. But he just couldn’t get there. He slowed down a little to let her come down from her high. But then picked right back up into his brutal pace when he felt her walls stop fluttering around him. He had better stamina than he thought.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her up so her back was to his front. She was moaning like a pornstar. Telling him to go faster and harder. He obliged. He moved his hand back down and started rubbing her clit again. This time she started moaning his name.

He opened his eyes and looked down at where they were connected. Even that wasn’t bringing him closer to the edge. He was starting to get frustrated with himself when he looked up and his gaze fell forward. That was a mistake.

Right there sitting on his tv stand were pictures. And of course there was one of him and Steve. Shit. Steve looked so fucking good in that picture. He and Bucky had their arms around each other. They had just run a marathon for charity.

Bucky couldn’t help but admire Steve’s arms in the picture. The way the veins were protruding out. He could tell Steve was flexing.

Bucky started fucking Samantha? even harder. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander down Steve’s body. Once again he was wearing a shirt that didn’t fit him. Then Bucky’s gaze got to Steve’s crotch. He had never noticed the bulge in the picture before. He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his mouth. He started thinking about what that would feel like in his hand or better yet, his mouth.

As Bucky’s thoughts wandered to what Steve’s mouth would feel like on him, he came without warning. He just about moaned Steve’s name out loud. Thank god he was able to hold that back. Sally? didn’t even seem to notice his withdrawn state. He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants and promised he’d call her as he rushed her out as politely as he could.

So that’s why he was currently hiding out in the communal library. He knew Steve spent a majority of his Saturdays either working out or planning missions. Bucky figured he was safe here. Boy was he wrong.

“Barnes!”

Bucky jumped at the sudden intrusion and looked up to see Nick Fury walking towards him.

“Sergeant Barnes. I hope you’re doing well this evening.” He doesn’t even give Bucky time to reply before he’s handing him over a file. “Could you see to it that Captain Rogers gets this immediately? It contains important information on his upcoming mission. I’d take it to him myself but I’m rather in a bind and have somewhere important I need to be.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a minute. He just looks from the file back to Fury’s face, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he can’t take the file to Steve.

He’s about to open his mouth when Fury cuts him off. “Look I know you and I got off on the wrong foot but this shouldn’t be a task you have to think this hard about. Aren’t you and Captain Rogers attached at the hip?”

Bucky was about to argue but then thought better. He goes to stand and grabs the file from Fury. “It’ll be no trouble, sir. I’ll see that Captain Rogers gets this right away.”

Fury nods his head in thanks. “I appreciate this Barnes. Thank you.” With that he turns to exit the other side of the library.

Bucky looks down at the file as if it’s offended him. Shit. Well he was going to have to face Steve sooner or later. Might as well be sooner. He looks up towards the ceiling.

“FRIDAY? Could you please tell me where Captain Rogers is?”

“Captain Rogers is in his living quarters. Would you like me to tell him you’re on your way?”

“That won’t be necessary. It’ll be a quick visit. Thank you.”

Bucky takes off towards the direction of Steve’s room. He hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything important. Maybe Steve was just relaxing? Taking a rest after a long week? Psh like he ever rests. He’s probably filling out mission reports. He’s such a nerd.

Bucky gets to his door and takes a couple deep breaths before knocking. Preparing for when he’ll see Steve’s handsome face.

When he thinks he’s ready, Bucky knocks.

He doesn’t have to wait very long before Steve answers the door.

Steve who wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Steve whose shorts were so low on his hips that Bucky could see that perfect V practically directing him towards his cock.

Steve who was all sweaty from a workout Bucky had apparently interrupted.

Steve who had no idea how hard he had just made his best friend.

Fuck.

Steve smiles at his best friend. “Hey, Buck! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bucky’s brain has short circuited. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of Steve’s chest.

Steve notices where Bucky’s eyes are trained. He can’t help but smirk and start flexing a little. “You like what you see?”

Bucky snaps out of it and raises his gaze to Steve’s face. “Sorry, man. It’s just. Are you getting bigger? Hitting the gym even more?” Bucky hoped that poor excuse would suffice as to why he was ogling his half naked best friend.

Steve’s smirk turns cocky. “Yeah actually I have. Trying to buff up a little bit. You know, impress the ladies.”

Bucky couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “Yeah, like you have trouble with the ladies. You hook up with what? 3-4 a week?” He makes his way inside and can’t help but notice the small gym that has taken up residence in Steve’s living room.

Steve heads over to grab a water bottle from the fridge. “Well, usually. I actually haven’t hooked up with anyone for a few weeks now.” He heads back over to stand in front of Bucky. He glances down and notices the file in his hand. “Is that for me?”

Bucky follows Steve’s gaze down to the file he’s still holding. He had forgotten all about it. He hands it over to Steve. “Yeah, this is from Fury. He said it was for your upcoming mission.”

Steve takes the file and sets it on his coffee table. “Thanks, man. How did you end up with it?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was in the library when I ran into him. He asked me to bring it to you. So here I am. Looks like I interrupted your workout though. Sorry. Why aren’t you working out in the gym?”

Bucky notices the blush that creeps up on Steve’s face. “Um, well. I got banned from the gym for a few weeks by Tony.”

Bucky chuckles and crosses his arms. “What the hell did you do, punk?”

Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Well it was when I was sparring with Sam and a group of girls were watching us. I’ll admit I was showing off a bit and not paying attention and accidentally knocked over a row of treadmills. So i’m not allowed back in until I learn, as Tony put it, ‘Proper Gym Etiquette’ or some bullshit like that.”

Bucky starts laughing and looks around the makeshift gym. “Oh, yeah. That was hilarious! Definitely made me stop my workout because I was laughing so damn hard. Well looks like you don’t even need the gym. You have everything you could need right here.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not everything. I don’t have a bench press. Which sucks because that’s a part of my normal routine.”

Bucky’s next words fly out of his mouth faster than what his brain can process. “You could bench me if you want.”

Steve raises a curious eyebrow at Bucky. “What? Buck I can lift a hell of a lot more than what you weigh.” He flexes his biceps at Bucky, making the veins in his arms protrude out.

Bucky feels his cock twitch in his pants. Shit. “Yeah, but it would be better than nothing right?”

Steve pretends not to notice Bucky’s growing bulge and shrugs. “I guess you’re right. You wouldn’t mind?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. Anything to help you out, punk.”

Steve chuckles and lays down on the mat he had stolen from the gym. “Alright then. I guess you can lean back into my hands? I’ll hold you between your shoulder blades and your upper left thigh?”

Bucky can’t help the shiver that wracks his body. “Um, yep. That’ll work.”

He knows his erection is now straining against his shorts. He’s hoping to whatever god is listening that Steve won’t notice.

Oh, Steve notices.

He can’t help the twitch he feels his own cock make. This is why he hasn’t been hooking up with anybody lately. He’s been having some not so friendly thoughts about his best friend recently. He’s been doing his best to keep them hidden. There’s no way Bucky would reciprocate them, right?

That’s why he’s been showing off in the gym more. Not for the girls. He’s been seeing if he can get a rise out of Bucky. He knows he’s looked like a douche what with all the flexing and wearing shirts that don’t fit him. And judging from the bulge in Bucky’s shorts, it’s working.

Bucky clears his throat to get Steve’s attention. “Ready?”

Steve holds his hands up and nods his head. Bucky leans back onto them. Steve readjusts his grip, making sure he won’t drop Bucky.

Bucky is trying his best not to let out a whimper. This is so much better than his dream. Steve’s hands on him feel like heaven. And when Steve starts to lift him? Bucky almost came right then and there.

Steve notices the shivers going down Bucky’s spine. He decides to turn it up a notch. He starts grunting unnecessarily every time he lifts Bucky up. He hears the little whimper escape Bucky’s mouth. That little noise goes straight to Steve’s cock. Which is now uncomfortably straining against his shorts.

“Um, okay Buck. I’m done.” He puts Bucky back down as gently as he can.

Bucky turns around and looks down at Steve confused. Only to then notice Steve’s eyes are trained on his erection. Steve quickly stands up, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s hard as well. Bucky can’t help but notice it. Jesus. Maybe Steve does feel the same way.

Steve can’t help but start flexing again. Loving the effect he’s having on Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes travel up over Steve’s body again. His bottom lip between his teeth as he watches his muscles become more prominent.

Steve decides to make a move. “You can touch them if you want.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice. He runs his right hand over Steve’s bicep, earning him a moan from the blonde super soldier. He then moves his hand over to his pec and gives a nice squeeze. “Fuck, Bucky. You’re driving me crazy here.”

Bucky smirks and trails his hands down his abs. He reaches the waistband of Steve’s shorts and looks back up at him.

The heat between them is stifling.

Bucky raises his eyebrows as if daring Steve to make the first move.

Fuck it.

Steve grabs Bucky by the back of the neck and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. Bucky reacts quickly and grabs onto Steve’s bicep and gives another squeeze. Steve groans and grinds his cock against Bucky’s, desperate for some friction. Bucky pulls Steve closer and grinds back against him.

Steve can’t take it anymore. He pulls out of the kiss and lifts Bucky up and throws him onto his nearby bed. Steve takes just a second to admire the beautiful man in his bed. Lips red and swollen from his kissing. Cheeks and chest flushed. Chest rapidly rising and falling with every breath. And a beautiful erection begging to be let free.

Steve growls and quickly climbs on the bed next to Bucky until he’s laying beside him. He pulls Bucky back in for another kiss. He pulls away again after a few minutes. “Please, Buck. Tell me you want this just as much as I do?”

Bucky smirks as he grabs Steve’s hand and places it on his clothed erection. “Does that feel like I want it, Steve?”

Steve moans and pulls Bucky back in for a kiss. He removes his hand from Bucky’s bulge and starts attempting to tug his shorts down. Bucky smirks and helps Steve out, successfully pushing his shorts down enough to free his cock. Steve then reaches for the hem of Bucky’s shirt and lifts it over his head.

Steve can’t help but marvel at him for a second. He’s never been intimate with a guy before but dammit if Bucky wasn’t beautiful. More so than the women he’s been with. And his cock? Steve couldn’t wait to get his hands on the girthy length of him.

This time it’s Bucky’s turn to ask. “You like what you see?”

Steve smirks and reaches out to grab a hold of the beautiful cock. “Oh, yeah. You get this hard just for me?”

Bucky rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder and lets out a moan. “Only get this hard for you, Stevie.”

Steve adjusts his grip just a little tighter and starts slowly jerking Bucky off. Bucky can’t help but bite down on Steve’s shoulder to stifle his moaning. Steve isn’t having that. “Don’t hide from me. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel. Come on handsome, let me hear you”

Bucky raises his head off of Steve’s shoulder. He grabs the back of Steve’s head with his metal hand and pulls him back in for a kiss. Steve starts pumping Bucky’s cock even faster. Bucky doesn’t want Steve to have all the fun. He starts pulling at Steve’s shorts, signaling he wants them off.

Steve removes himself from Bucky for a moment to stand up and remove his shorts. Bucky can’t help the whine that escapes him as he watches Steve’s cock smack against his abdomen. Long, thick, and just absolutely perfect. A cocky smirk appears on Steve’s face. He’s glad Bucky is impressed.

He climbs back on the bed and resumes kissing Bucky and once again grabbing his cock. This time Bucky reciprocates and grabs Steve’s cock, earning him a loud moan. “Fuck, Bucky. Just like that.”

Bucky pumps his fist at a rapid pace. He’s been close to coming ever since Steve bench pressed him. He wants to get Steve there. “Bucky if you don’t slow down, I’m going to bust a nut like some teenager.”

Bucky smirks and grabs the back of Steve’s head with his metal hand and leans in to whisper, “I want you to come for me. All over me. Make a mess, Stevie.”

Steve groans and starts moving his fist to match Bucky’s pace, now wanting them to come at the same time. Bucky moans and loses himself in the feeling of Steve’s hand wrapped around him. He comes with a shout and makes a big mess on Steve’s abdomen.

The feel of Bucky’s cum hitting his body is what does Steve in. He makes an equally big mess all over Bucky’s abdomen and chest. Steve removes his hand from Bucky’s softening cock and places it on Bucky’s hip to pull him in even closer. Steve gives Bucky a big, dopey smile. “That’s the fastest anyone has ever made me come. You must have the magic touch.”

Bucky moves his hand to Steve’s ass and gives a squeeze. “Sorry about that. Got a little carried away. I couldn’t really help myself. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Steve cups Bucky’s cheek and makes him look him in the eye. “Neither have I. This is new for both of us. I’m glad it’s with you, though.”

Bucky smiles at Steve. “Yeah? You okay going from best friends to”...he gestures down their naked bodies... “whatever this is?”

Steve pulls Bucky in for a kiss. He pulls back and touches his forehead to Bucky’s. “Well I want more than sex but I’ll take what I can get. If sex is all you want, then I’ll take it.”

Bucky chuckles at him. “Well sounds like we want the same things, punk. And don’t worry, we can keep it just between us if you’d like.”

Steve furrows his brows in confusion. “Why would I want to keep this just between us? Are you...are you ashamed of us?”

Bucky quickly shakes his head. “No! Of course not! I just assumed you wouldn’t want people to know since you’ve always been with women and you’re Captain America.”

Steve cups Bucky’s cheek again. “The thought of being with you makes me happy. And I want to show you off and how happy you make me. If my friends can’t get over that then fuck ‘em. They aren’t my real friends. As for my fans? The real ones will support me.”

Bucky can’t help the tear that falls from his eye. Steve wipes it away with his thumb. “You make me happy, too. Please know that. I’ve wanted this for longer than I’m willing to admit. I’m...I think I’m in love with you, Steve.

Steve smiles and goes to pull Bucky in for another kiss. Just before their lips touch he utters out, “I love you too, jerk.”

Permanent Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @harrysthiccthighss

#chris evans #captain america #chris evans smut #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #smut #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #ask answered #thanks for the ask!#steve rogers request #request

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 4 years ago

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Keeping Secrets

Title: Keeping Secrets

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2075

Square Filled: Castiel

Summary: Under the spell of a truth potion, Y/N reveals things to Cass that she makes him promise not to tell anyone, especially Dean. Cass agrees, but secrets tend to find a way of revealing themselves whether you like it or not.

Warnings: Fluffiness, Keeping Secrets, Misunderstandings, Mentions of Killing (not literal), violent threats, Innocent Angels, Language? (honestly, I my mind is so scrambled right now, I can’t remember if there’s any…), Mentions of Kinkiness, and I think that’s it.

Written for @spndeanbingo (round 2)

Disclaimer: No my gif. Credit to giuls from tenor.com. All mistakes are mine.

A/N: Secrets, man… so easy to keep, yet at the same time, so hard to keep as well. Or is it just me? A side effect of being a terrible liar? Lol. Well, there’s a fun fact about myself. I am a terrible liar! Happy Reading! xx

Hey, Cass told me. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it’s OK.

When you read that text, your face went up in flames with embarrassment, and now, you were on a mission to find one very, soon to be dead, Angel who spilled the beans. You couldn’t believe Cass told Dean! You confided in him in full confidentiality! Hell, Cass promised to keep his mouth shut, that he’d never tell Dean, that you could trust him to keep your secret, but now you knew that you were wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!

“Castiel, when I get my hands on you, I’m going to throttle your stupid angelic neck!” you muttered to yourself, brows furrowed and lips morphed into a deep frown.

You stomped through the bunker looking for the blabbermouth. Still grumbling, you passed Jack’s room, the seemingly teenaged boy looking at you, as you ducked in, with a confused expression. When you didn’t respond to him after he called your name several times, he decided to follow you, wondering why you were acting so strange.

He picked up on a few key words you were saying: stupid, angel, kill, asshole, assbutt, and a few other choice words that he knew were inappropriate but didn’t quite understand what they really implied.

Next, you stormed into the kitchen finding Sam eating a salad. In your already foul mood, you scoffed at his choice of nutrition, rolling your eyes at the gentle giant of a man.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you and then to Jack, who shrugged in obliviousness.

“I’m fine,” you hissed, not meaning to snap at him. “Have you seen Cass?”

“Uh, no. He should be in here somewhere. He didn’t mention anything about leaving,” Sam provided.

“Okay, thanks,” you replied, tone still not very pleasant.

You marched onwards, Jack still trailing behind you. He wasn’t sure if you knew that he was following, or if you simply didn’t care, but Jack continued on regardless.

The two of you made it to the war room, the space void aside for a few empty beer bottles that was most likely left by Dean. Growling in disapproval, you walked into the library next, just in time to see Sam walk in from the other end.

“Cass, there you are. Y/N’s looking for you and she doesn’t seem very happy,” Sam warned just as you stepped in.

“Damn right I’m unhappy,” you confirmed, storming up to Cass. “I can’t believe you told Dean!”

“I don’t understand. What did I tell him that I wasn’t supposed to?” Cass questioned, the look on his face completely perplexed.

“Oh, you know what you told him!”

Cass squinted his eyes and tilted his head, a tell that told you he was trying recollect what he possibly could have said. Annoyed with him, you exclaimed in frustration. “I can’t believe you told Dean that I liked him!” you finally revealed, Jack and Sam’s eyes widening and brows raising.

“What?”

Your body froze when you heard the familiar deep voice echo through the library. You didn’t dare to look back, already knowing your face must be glowing with humiliation.

With wide eyes and mouth slightly ajar, Cass’ eyes went from you to the Dean, who had taken a few more steps closer and was now standing directly behind you, next to Jack. “Uh… Y/N,” Cass started, “I never disclosed any of that information to Dean,” the angel confessed.

“I don’t get it,” Jack interrupted. “I thought we all liked each other? You know, we’re a family?”

Sam cleared his throat at that, giving Jack an acknowledging smile. “Uh, yeah. We do like each other, but they’re talking about a different kind of like.”

“Like what? Like love?” the innocent boy blurted, the word love making you cringe.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on a second,” Dean took control of the room. “Y/N, you love me?” He asked, neck a little stretched out, eyes wide, and mouth hanging open with disbelief.

Shyly, you turned to face him, heart leaping when you instantly made eye contact. “Didn’t you already know that? You texted me that Cass told you.”

“What?” Cass quipped. “I did not tell him that,” he defended himself.

“No,” Dean confirmed. “When I texted you that, I was talking about the hunt.”

Your face went completely white. Just the other day, you and Cass had come home after what was supposed to be an easy hunt. You were adamant that the monster you were hunting was a vengeful spirit possessing innocent people, but it turned out to be a witch casting curses. It was that mistake that landed you in becoming a victim of said curse. A truth curse.

The witch worked at the diner where all the incidents happened. You figured that the ghost was attached to something or someone in the restaurant, but it was the witch mixing people’s drinks with her truth potion. That was how your secret was let out to Cass, but he had assured you that he wouldn’t tell anyone, that your secret was safe with him. And it was true, you told Cass how stupid you felt for not realizing that it wasn’t a spirit but a witch terrorizing the small town. You made a mistake and you weren’t the type that to brush off little mistakes like that. You took it to heart, like you were a bad hunter.

“Oh…” was all you could say at that point, feeling even more embarrassed, and stupid, that you already were.

“Uh, hey Cass, Jack, how about we go into the kitchen; give Dean and Y/N some privacy to talk.

The three of them left the room, heading into the kitchen. You were grateful at that but at the same time, you wished that he would have invited you along, but you knew that it was too late and you and Dean needed to have this talk.

“Y/N…” you flinched at the sound of your name.

Wanting to beat the bullet, you just let everything out on the table. “Look, I’m sorry okay? No one was supposed to know! I know you don’t feel the same way but I hope we can just forget all about this and pretend that it never happened. I was drugged out and didn’t really mean it,” you continued on until Dean stopped you.

“Y/N, stop. First of all, you weren’t drugged out, you were bewitched with a truth potion. Everything you said was the truth, not something you didn’t really mean.”

Your shoulders dropped knowing he was right. The only thing left now was to take the rejection. There would be no more fantasizing about all the what ifs because all those dreams were about to be crushed by the hard truth… Dean Winchester did not love you back. Great.

“Okay, I get it,” you sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’ll do my best to get over you,” you told him.

“What? No!” Dean exclaimed. “Y/N, you don’t have to do that. Uh…” Dean’s demeanor suddenly changed and if you were reading his body language correctly, he seemed tense, timid… cute. No! Y/N stop it! Don’t think that way! “Uh, I actually kind of…”

In the kitchen, Sam leaned against the prep table, Cass sat at the table, while Jack stood in the middle of the room. “So...” Jack started, “when you said that they were talking about a different kind of like, you mean love?”

Sam met Jack’s gaze, “basically,” he answered.

“Okay… I don’t see what the problem is. Don’t we all love each other? I mean, it’s pretty much that same thing, right?” Jack questioned.

This time Sam let out a soft chuckle. “No, Jack. Y/N is in love with Dean… romantically.”

“Oh! Okay, I get it now. So Dean is in love with Y/N and now Y/N is in love with Dean! They both are in love with each other! That’s a really good thing, right?” Jack smiled, proud of himself for final grasping the situation.

“Yes, that is correct,” Cass answered instead. “But after we killed the witch and the potion wore off, Y/N told me not to tell Dean. But she ended up telling him herself instead, albeit it was unintentional.”

“I think this will be good for them. They deserve to be happy,” Sam grinned, actually glad that the truth was all out there.

Dean struggled to admit his own feelings. He wasn’t the type to talk about his emotions but if he wanted to have a future, like a real future, with you, then he had to tell you. He had to confess to you too.

“You actually kind of what?” you asked.

“Uh, I actually kind of… you know. I like you too,” he finally said it.

It was your turn to be dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, but at the same time you didn’t want to ask him to repeat himself, scared to find out that it was merely your delusional head playing tricks on you. It couldn’t be possible that Dean felt the same way, right?

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Dean inquired.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. I thought you said you felt the same way,” you giggled bashfully.

“Because I did.”

You froze at the confession. There was no denying it now. Dean had just confirmed that he felt the same way you did. The thought of how to proceed from there was short-circuiting your brain, not once ever thinking this was possible. Dean had said, on more than one account, that in this life, falling in love was impossible, that it would only end bad. You agreed with him, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the way that you felt, and now he was admitting that he had feelings. Those exact forbidden feelings he said hunters couldn’t have.

Having never planned for this unforeseen moment, you shifted your eyes from his to whatever you could find in the room. You were looking at an open book when you heard footsteps, and when you looked back to Dean, he was right there in front of you, his lips an inch away from yours. An audible gasp escaped you and Dean simply smiled.

“I thought you said hunters can’t have love,” you gulped, eyes trained on his invitingly pink lips.

“I say a lot of things Sweetheart, but if you’re willing, I’m willing to give this a try too. You know… give us a try.”

Averting your eyes to his, you searched for something that told you he was lying, that he didn’t mean it, but when you saw nothing but sincerity, you couldn’t help yourself. You lunged into him, arms wrapping around his neck and lips smashed against his in a needy fashion. Dean growled, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he hoisted you off the ground a little. When you pulled away, you were both breathless with matching dopey smiles stretched on each of your lips.

“Wow, Winchester,” you grinned.

“Better than you imagined?” he teased.

“So much better.”

“Everything okay in here?” Sam asked as he stepped back into the library, Cass and Jack in toe.

“Everything is great!” you beamed, taking your place beside your new boyfriend, hands intertwined.

“So are you two together now?” Cass questions, looking at your interlocked hands.

“Yup! All secrets are out. There’s nothing to hide anymore,” you assured.

“I see. Then can I ask you a question, since there are no more secrets?” Cass directed his question at you.

“Uh… go for it,” was you reply, not knowing you would soon regret it.

“When you were under the truth spell, you said you wanted Dean to punish you. To tie you up and punish you all night long. Spanking and choking you. I don’t understand why’d you want him to inflict pain on you.”

Your face went red as all eyes were on you. Jack had no idea what the hell was going on, but Sam gave you that horrified look, knowing he just heard something he wasn’t supposed to, or needed to know. Dean on the other hand was shocked at first, but quickly smirked at the notion.

“Cass!” you shouted it mortification. “I’m gonna kill you!” Just as you were about to attack him, a flutter of wings echoed through the room and he was gone. “Cass!”

A/N: You made it to the end! Thank you guys for reading! I appreciate you taking the time to read what I wrote! If you enjoyed it, please reblog to help share my fic, and leave a comment because it acts as fuel to keep writing and to keep posting! Y’all have a beautiful morning, day or night! xx

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yikeswtfmate · 5 years ago

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What? / Part 1

Summary: Y/N and Bucky are dating, but Bucky seems to be the only one who’s not aware of the situation.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing; alcohol consumption

A/N: aw yay look at me go, writing something short for Bucky after 2 days of writing a fic that’s already 4k long with Charlie Hunnam ha ha HA H A HA H A pls help

Adapted prompt from here!

masterlist // next part

Y/N should have known that fake dating never goes according to plan. She had read enough fanfiction to know that this was a bad idea from the beginning. She might have also been aware of it exactly from the beginning and actually hoped ever-lasting love would materialise from thin air, but then again, Bucky has always liked to express himself mainly through grunts so there wasn’t really any telling.

When she told Wanda on Saturday that she’s been seeing Bucky, it was a spur of the moment I’m-actually-addressing-my-fantasies-right-now completely ironic answer to her pestering. It was really just run-of-the-mill drunken banter, but apparently Wanda had much more alcohol than Y/N estimated, and she actually believed her. Not only that, but she didn’t even seem fazed at all, waving her off with a “I fucking knew it” mumble.

She should have known that by Monday everyone in the compound would know, but apparently her drunk mind couldn’t give a shit about consequences. Now people have been winking at her (Sam), patting her on the back (Bruce), or even clinking their coffee mug to hers (Clint). It wasn’t until Bucky appeared in the kitchen, having returned from his mission with Steve, that Y/N realised that this could easily turn into a disaster of bigger proportions than that one time she thought those guards didn’t have grenade launchers.

As he makes his way to the kitchen island, completely unaware of what his actions might look like to the buffoons that are currently watching the two of them like a tennis match, Bucky furrows his brow when Y/N dips her head into her bowl of cereal without a sound. He pours himself a cup of coffee, sitting down next to her with a grunt, but he stops from taking a sip when he notices that there are too many pairs of eyes on him.

“What do you all want?” He demands, definitely in a black mood, Y/N notes, which is honestly just her luck.

“Well, aren’t you going to kiss her, man? You haven’t seen her for three days!” Clint says, as impatient as when he’s watching his drama series.

“What?” Bucky squawks for fuck’s sake, this is so bad.

“We know about you two, tin brain, there’s no need to hide anymore.” Sam adds helpfully.

“Us…two? Who?”

“Buck!” Steve comes in, slapping Bucky’s shoulder, and Y/N can literally kiss the man for providing a distraction so she can fucking slip out the fucking window for all she cares, anything to just not be in the kitchen at that moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fuck, is there any chance she’ll get a break today? “I’m so glad you finally got over yourself and asked Y/N out, that crush lasted long enough, bud. I was so tired of listening to you whining all day about how she could never accept you. Was expecting you to tell me first, but no matter. I’m so glad for you, kids!” What.

Bucky turns around in his stool in what feels like slow motion. His eyes are bulging out of his skull, blinking rapidly at Steve who just smiles like a damn puppy, blissfully oblivious of what the fuck he just said in front of everyone, and more importantly, in front of Y/N of all people!

He is trying to decide whether throwing Captain America off the Avengers Tower would be more painful than simply choking him to death, when Bucky hears the slow exhale next to him. His gaze finds Y/N who’s just looking at him with a lopsided grin, if maybe only a little bit shocked.

“It was nauseating, man. Also funny that you couldn’t even say a word in front of her, you were just like a big caveman, to be fair.” Sam offers even more helpfully.

“Aw babe, I didn’t know you had such a big crush on me.” Y/N says before he can even open his mouth. Bucky’s attention redirects to her and his brain must be short-circuiting because she just hops off her stool and kisses him with a smack on the lips. “I’ll see you in your room.”

There are hoots and hollers as she leaves the kitchen, and Bucky just watches her in a trance.

“What the fuck is going on?” He mutters.

***

Taglist:

@imma-new-soul

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot

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baldwinboy5choices · 4 years ago

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The Family Night Out (M! Robin Flores x MC)

Someone who absolutely never, ever writes fics (me) is so in love with Robin that they were actually compelled to write Choices fic for the very first time.

Book and Pairing: The Nanny Affair, M!Robin Flores x MC (Jett Hawthorne)

Words: 2.7k

Rating: I’m so new to writing fics I don’t even know what kind of rating system to use, but this is extremely tame, and, much like a PG-13 movie, contains exactly one very judiciously-placed F-bomb.

Summary: I sort of started with “collision course,” which is the name of one of the Ice Age movies, and then worked my way backwards. So, in a manner of speaking, you could say that this is Based on the Comedy of Ray Romano. (Not really. The first part’s true, though.) No, it’s really more about the start of Robin and Jett’s relationship, with a little bit of inspiration from Sam saying in a diamond scene, “You could do so much better than him.” (me) (also me)

Thank you so much @semiautomaticheart for proofreading, and thank you @yaushie & @brightpinkpeppercorn for first pass feedback! You guys are all really awesome and I appreciate you all so much.

Another day, another experiment for Mickey and Mason. Today’s flavor was taking photographs of deep space, courtesy of the telescope they remembered they got last Christmas, and their father’s old phone that they were allowed to occasionally play games on.

“Do you think that counts as… deep space?” Mickey wondered, as he and his brother peered at the phone screen.

“Well, yeah! And we’re just starting out,” Mason insisted. “We’ll get better!”

“Yeah! Print it out!” Mickey hollered. “Our very first picture of outer space!”

Jett heard the bell of the elevator as she watched the boys signing the printout in colored pencil and running to the refrigerator with it. “Hold on, boys. I think I hear your father,” she said.

Jett never met Sam at the door when he arrived home, with the exception of the time she had to distract him so Mason and Mickey could finish the birthday dinner for him. Today, however, she had a friendly warning for him. It just so happened that when she stepped out into the hallway, she was greeted by not only Sam, but also Sofia and Robin.

Jett’s breath caught in her throat as she and Robin met eyes for a brief moment. The sight of him reminded her that the same night of Sam’s birthday dinner was also the night that brought Robin into her life, right here in that hallway. She quickly composed herself with a neutral demeanor. Addressing all three, she instructed, “Hey, guys. When you get inside, there’ll be a really blurry piece of paper on the fridge. Pretend you love it.”

For once, Sam, Sofia, and Robin were united, sharing the same puzzled look directed at Jett, but before anyone could voice an actual question, Mickey and Mason were bursting out of the apartment door.

“Mort’s! Mort’s!” the boys were chanting.

“That’s right, boys,” Sam said brightly. He then turned to Jett and said, “Jett, we were hoping you could join us.”

“But… it was going to be a night off,” Jett replied. Sam generally preferred dinners at home, but occasionally, he would take the boys out for some family time, and Jett would be off those nights.

“I insist - dinner’s on me,” Sam said firmly, as everyone poured into the apartment and began raving over the hazy photo of a blob on the refrigerator.

“M&M graciously donated one of the unused save files on their video game to me. And I thought tonight was supposed to be family night,” Jett said lamely. “Wouldn’t I be intruding?”

“No, because someone invited you,” Sam said, tossing his head in Robin’s direction. “And even if he hadn’t, you’re welcome to join us on the family night out.”

“Oh… you’re going, too?” Jett said, catching Robin’s eye once again. This news changed things.

Robin gave her a casual grin. “I never pass up Trader Mort’s.”

Sofia chimed in, “It’s literally the only place all of us agree on. Even the kids, and Robin with his crude taste. That in and of itself should be considered a miracle.”

Jett knew of Trader Mort’s, a no-expense-spared tiki bar and restaurant that liked to tout itself as more of an “experience” than a mere dining establishment. She herself had never gone, but she’d heard others sing its praises. The founder, James Mortemer, was supposedly descended from some legendary pirate captain and the restaurant apparently hinged heavily on this gimmick.

“Has something for everyone,” Sam put in. “There’s a cool volcano show for the kids, Sofia and I both adore their menu…”

“Separate bar area where Robin can always find a girl to take home,” Sofia finished.

Jett studiously ignored this comment as she led the boys away to find their coats.

Moments later, Jett was finishing getting ready herself, and wandered back into the boys’ room. Robin then appeared at the boys’ bedroom door. “Kiddos, you want to go tell your dad you’re ready?” Robin said, knocking on the door frame.

“Yep!” they cried in unison, running off.

“You’re coming with me in my car, right?” Robin asked.

Jett shot back his question with another question. “Because you want me to, or because it’ll piss off Sam?”

“Nah, that’s boring now. Because I want you to,” Robin said with a grin.

Jett had to smile. “Okay, you got me, then.”

They spent the drive in comfortable conversation, and Jett’s heart fluttered when they left the car and approached the restaurant entrance, because of who was accompanying her.

“Shall we, beautiful?” Robin said lightly, offering Jett his elbow to hold as they walked through the door.

At dinner, things were generally civil, even as Robin insisted on sitting next to Jett and keeping close to her. The adults made polite small talk, and Mason and Mickey, as children were wont to do, had already long forgotten about “Suck-fia” and had moved on to other things.

As the meal wound down, Robin nudged Jett. “You know, when those two take the kiddos to watch the volcano show, I bet we could sneak a little time to ourselves,” Robin said in a low voice into Jett’s ear.

Though Sofia couldn’t hear the words, it was impossible to miss that Robin had leaned in very close to Jett to whisper to her.

“Jett, tell me you’re not falling for this,” Sofia said with a slight roll of her eyes. “And Robin. Really? Just because you’re in a dating slump doesn’t mean you should be going after her.”

“What, just going to do a drive-by on me like that? I have a great personality,” Jett said with a hollow laugh in between bites of her dinner.

Robin glared, all traces of his earlier good mood gone from his face. “There’s nothing wrong with Jett.” Then, softening his expression, he turned back to Jett and asked, “Split one of these desserts with me?”

Sofia sighed with exasperation and forged ahead. “I meant, you shouldn’t be leading her on, and then subsequently breaking her heart like you so frequently do, and leaving us to deal with the mess. We’ve never had to deal with your dating disasters before; why bring us into this now?”

“Yes. For goodness’ sake, she’s an integral part of this family, now,” Sam piped up. “You can’t do that to her.”

Sam had been admonishing Jett to steer clear of Robin ever since the three of them had met. It felt to her as though, even if Sam couldn’t have her himself, he still wanted to be the one that she longed for.

But could it be that it wasn’t jealousy on Sam’s part, but simply the truth? Jett also remembered back to when she first met Sofia - she, too, had warned Jett that Robin was “a player.” That was the word she had used.

The entire conversation made Jett let out an audible chuckle. It was the type of nervous laugh that one lets out when they know they’re in deep trouble, and so, one can’t help but simply let out a joyless laugh with a hint of melancholic despair.

Sam glowered, and then turned towards Robin. “Don’t make her pay for it just because you’re annoyed you can’t get anyone else to fall for your charms right now.”

“That’s not true,” Robin protested.

“Fine. Then pick up one of the other beautiful women here tonight. Now. I bet you can’t do it.”

Sofia raised her eyebrows in slight interest and amusement. She felt that Sam was more bewildered than upset or hurt by the situation. Things had always been handed to him, and, with the tragic exception of the loss of his wife, he’d had little experience in dealing with anything less than Easy Street. Sure, Jett had started the nanny position with an infatuation for Sam, but that was before she had gotten to know everyone better. Jett now wanting Robin instead of him appeared to have short-circuited Sam’s brain.

“Watch me,” assured Robin belligerently, standing up to begin the search for his quarry.

Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer. With Robin now gone from their table, he demanded, “Jett, what do you see in that guy?”

An eight-hour explanation formed in Jett’s mind. “Nothing,” she ultimately said.

Sam let out another sigh, and pulled out his phone. “Look,” he said. “This was actually an old business partner of Robin’s,” Sam said, scrolling through the phone. He handed the phone over to Jett. It was a multi-part Pictagram post. Swiping through revealed a rant written by an angered woman about how she’d felt “led on” by Robin only to find that their relationship was not what she thought it was.

Jett skimmed the Pictagram post as Sofia and Sam watched Robin continue to walk around all the various sections of Trader Mort’s - the bar, the dining area, the fire pit, the merchandise booth. He was observing all of the other patrons of the restaurant as carefully as if he were shopping for a house or a car.

“This was an old girlfriend,” Sam said, navigating to a different Pictagram post showing a scowling woman, followed by a lengthy diatribe of a caption talking about how truly wronged she’d been during their breakup.

Sam took his phone back, swiped around, and gave it to Jett again, showing another Pictagram post with a different woman. “Girlfriend,” he said.

“Girlfriend.” Another post, equal amounts of rage and spite in the caption.

“Aaaaand, girlfriend.” Another post. More rage.

“Sam, you seem like you’re just looking out for me, which is… nice, but totally unnecessary,” Jett ventured cautiously, before a touch of anger seeped into her voice. “And, I mean, did you just already have these pictures ready, or something, just to show me?! All prepared to disparage him like this? You pulled these all out awfully fast.”

“Oh, no, I just searched by the hashtag. It was really easy to find,” Sam said with pure innocence. He showed the last photo again to Jett. Oh. There it was: #fuckrobinflores

“Oh.”

“To be perfectly fair, sometimes he just has one-night stands and the women aren’t all that bothered by it. You wouldn’t see those on the hashtag, though, I guess,” Sofia said with a chuckle. “But he hasn’t been getting any dates at all lately. I think that’s why he’s targeting you.”

“I wouldn’t call it targeting,” Jett insisted. “We’re not exactly… well, you know we’re not together, but I wouldn’t say any of this is one-sided.”

The conversation was interrupted because Sam noticed that Robin had settled at a standing table. Sam had to hand it to Robin - the girl he picked was absolutely stunning, a tall, slim brunette with a beautiful face.

Robin had ordered the Poseidon’s Revenge Grog, the most expensive drink that Trader Mort’s offered, which was an elaborate, fruit-topped rum drink served in a carved bowl so massive it could comfortably house several tropical fish.

Deftly as a master painter crafts their portraits, as a maestro weaves their notes together in a beautiful melody, and as anyone of extraordinary skill in their art wields their talent, Robin demonstrated to his onlookers his effortless skill in flirting. He simply poked two straws into his monstrous Poseidon’s Revenge Grog, pointed one of them at the girl, lowered his chin an inch, and gave her a sultry smile in invitation without so much as a word.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline - he thought he saw the immediate future flashing before his eyes. As the beautiful brunette girl leapt for her straw, and Robin leaned forward for his, Sam saw the inevitable collision course that their respective heads were on and tensed up, bracing himself for two visits to Concussion City. He would have sworn, “There’s nothing anyone could have done.”

Except Jett wasn’t just anyone. In a lightning-quick motion, Jett lunged for the Poseidon’s Revenge Grog too, and her hand shot out between Robin and the girl, preventing the double head injury.

“Jett!” Robin exclaimed.

“Oh my god! Thank you!” cried the girl. “That was almost a disaster!”

Jett shook out her hand and winced, looking everything like a hero who’d just punched out the bad guy. “I was supposed to be off baby-sitting duty tonight,” she said through gritted teeth, though her tone was light. “The universe decided that this would not be the case.”

After a few more rounds of “Thank you,” and “Are you okay?!” the girl introduced herself to Robin as Phaedra, and smiled at him.

Robin mumbled a quick apology to her. “Sorry - keep the Grog, though. I’m headed back to the bar with her, for some ice.”

“No, I get it, totally. But if you want to hang out sometime - give me your phone?” said Phaedra.

“Oh. Sure.” Robin placed his hand on Jett’s back as Phaedra typed away, and as soon as she was done, he gave her a quick thanks.

“See you!” said Phaedra, grabbing the tiki bowl and flouncing away back to her friends.

Robin led Jett to the bar, where he found an empty bar stool. He cleared his throat and gave a charming smile to someone seated on the next bar stool, and asked with all the confidence of a man who could still score the phone number of a girl he’d almost concussed, “Hey, buddy. You mind?”

“Not at all,” said the other man, moving one stool over.

“Thanks,” Jett managed weakly, as the two of them sat side by side and Robin asked the bartender for a bag of ice.

“What do you say you and I share a much more reasonably sized drink?” Robin asked.

Jett laughed. “Yeah. Sure. And dessert, too, since that didn’t happen earlier.”

They sat mostly in silence for a short while, as Jett iced her hand, and awkwardly ate with her non-dominant hand. Jett mumbled an apology as her hand brushed against Robin’s, reaching for their shared drink. They had decided on a Damnation, a mixture of light and dark rums and fruit juices served in a ceramic mug in the shape of a piranha. It was, as Robin had suggested, a much more reasonably sized concoction.

“I’m really uncoordinated with this hand,” she joked.

In response, Robin closed his hand around her uninjured one. “Jett?” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“You can trust me,” Robin said with an unusual sincerity.

For a moment, Jett debated feigning innocence and asking, “About what?”

She couldn’t decide what to say for several more minutes, but eventually settled on “Yeah. I want to.”

When Robin and Jett returned to the others, they were then standing at the miniature volcano display waiting for the show to start. Sam had a triumphant look on his face. It dawned on Jett that this was a win-win situation for him: either Robin couldn’t pick anyone up and Sam would force him to admit that he only wanted Jett because he’d been in a dating slump, or, he did score some other girl’s number, and well - he would have scored the number of a girl who wasn’t Jett. It was as though Sam wanted to somehow prove that Robin couldn’t ever take her seriously. If Jett were to ask Sam, he would probably tell her that he would treat her like royalty - never mind the fact that he was engaged to someone else - while Robin would treat her like a customer at a delicatessen. “Now serving number five-oh-eight.”

Jett could see herself understanding why Sam would think that. But Robin… Robin had asked her to trust him.

“I hate to say I told you so…” Sam began.

“Then don’t,” Jett snapped.

“Well, it seems this was to be expected. All of us always have a good time when we come to Trader Mort’s,” Sofia said flippantly. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose, Robin. Enjoy your date with what’s-her-name.”

“Mickey, Mason, look above you!” Sam interjected.

As the boys marveled over the animatronics display descending from the ceiling - which Jett had to admit was actually pretty cool - she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Robin giving her a small smile, and holding up his phone screen for her to see. It showed the name Phaedra, followed by her phone number. Her contact name was accompanied by a bunch of heart emojis, a sort of digital age equivalent of kissing one’s lipstick to a napkin and writing “Call me!”

Wordlessly, Robin made a bit of a show out of displaying the screen to Jett as he pressed “Delete contact.”

He tossed the phone into his pocket.

Lights began to flash and fog filled the room, and the Trader Mort’s crew started chanting. Jett’s hand slipped into Robin’s as the two of them watched the volcano erupt while the crowd cheered.

#playchoices #the nanny affair #robin flores #robin x mc #choices fanfic #bb5 fic #i guess that's a tag now #and i guess i love robin too much to stop myself from writing fic now #but i still can't believe i did this #my FIRST EVER choices fic and believe me I have been kicking around in this fandom for AWHILE #not since that earliest of the early days but... early enough #anyway hope you all enjoy this or...#at least even if you don't enjoy it i hope the robin fans out there appreciate that there's a slight bit more robin content out there now #don't worry edward we will carry on your legacy after that shit ass ending #ah there we go the real summary to this fic

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years ago

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the love you deserve II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: almost 3k, ops

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve. Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, hurt!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires. This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 2, please comment and reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I plan on writing at least another part, maybe two.

What do you think of the reader?

Part 1

The day before

Las Vegas, Nevada

Vegas is hot and dry as hell. It’s also a lot of fun, so the movies did not lie about that at least. They did exaggerate how fun the casinos would be tho.

You’re at a pool party, sipping on a drink, silently judging the moves of the sweaty people who are dancing around you.

You just got off a facetime call with Jaime, and god you miss him and Alpine too, but life is good and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, your best friend is getting married to the man she loves and you’re having the time of your life with your girlfriends.

“So, you’re not having cold feet, are you?” you hear Hannah question Jade.

They’re basking in the sun around you.

Jade hesitates as she douses herself in sunblock.

“I gotta say I’m kind of scared but I’ve been dreaming about this for three years, so no? I guess. I don’t know. I love him.”

“That didn’t answer the question.” you observe.

“Are you sure you’re ready to commit to one dick only for the rest of your life?” Raven asks, and you all laugh and roll your eyes playfully.

Ever the commitaphobe, just like you. Well, like you used to be before you met Jaime.

You hate rush hour after work, you hate it so much in fact that you’d rather go to your work’s gym and workout even though you’re exhausted than catch a packed train.

By the time you get to the station most people are home already.

He’s here today.

You’ve seen him quite a lot in the past few weeks. The first thing you noticed about him is the way he seems to fold in on himself, his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

His bad posture aggravates you beyond reason, and you just wish you could go there and straighten his back without looking like a weirdo. But you can’t, so you just admire from afar like the good creep you are.

He’s always wearing a baseball cap over luscious but questionably greasy hair, huge winter jackets and leather gloves; still, underneath all that it’s clear he’s handsome. You always had a thing for men built like brick houses.

Today is the day, you think, today is the day I finally strike a conversation with the guy, it’s now or never.

Truth is, the loneliness he exudes breaks your heart and the way people avoid him like he’s got the plague enrages you for no particular reason. Somehow the ever indifferent New Yorkers would rather stand on a moving train than sit next to him, and that something about that that irks you way too much.

You really don’t understand why. Sure he’s intimidating, he’s a huge man, but he’s quiet and calm and he smiles softly when he spots a dog on the train. He gets off at same stop you do and no matter how isolate the station and the streets are by the time you get home, even if you two are the only ones there, you’ve never felt uneasy.

So you go and sit next to him, you smile when he looks up in surprise and you say hi.

He stutters an ‘evening ma’am’ and you’re proud of yourself because you’ve got it in you to made the big scary guy blush like a schoolgirl.

“Not to be a creep or anything but I’ve seen you around quite a lot, we commute together almost every day.” You chuckle and you introduce yourself.

“I uhm-” he’s cute when he furrows his brows “ I’m Jame- Jaime. I’m Jaime.”

You smile at the memory.

Jaime turned out to be a lot less shy than anticipated. He was a stuttering mess on the first few dates but the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to show his true sarcastic, snarky nature, whilst still being a gentle giant and an absolute sweetheart.

He’s thoughtful, cocky and sweet at the same time. He makes you melt in a puddle whenever he snuggles Alpine on the inside of his jacket, and the rumble of his voice is enough to make your brain short circuit and your panties dampen.

“There goes that look again, you’re such a love sick fool.”

“Oh God, you should see her when she’s with her precious Jaime, they literally have heart eyes, they’re so cute together it makes me sick to my stomach.”

You laugh and shake your head at Raven’s and Jade’s teasing.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, you should have seen yourself the day you met Matt, bitch, you looked like you’d never seen a man before. I ain’t forget.” you retort.

Hannah laughs and adds “When are we going to meet mystery man? It’s not fair that Jade only to got to see him. And word on the streets is that he’s real pretty.”

“When you three learn how to behave. But I can show you a picture, just please don’t be weird about it.” you finally relent after five months of avoiding the topic.

“He’s very, very hot ladies.” Jade quips.

You send her a side glance (goodnaturedly of course) and show them how pretty your sweet boy is.

Raven’s jaw goes slack as she clutches your phone and gawks at the picture.

“Lucky bastard, he’s literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, where did you find him and how did you convince him to be with you of all people?”

You laugh at Raven’s blunt remarks. They playful banter between the two of you has been going on since freshman year of college.

“Now I get why you have that dumb love struck face on you at all times.” Hannah adds.

Grace tho, she’s unusually quiet, and she stares at him with a scowl on her face. Her eyes travel slowly from your phone to your face, and the anticipation to know the reason why is killing you.

“Uhm, you’re dating him? And you said his name is Jaime?” she hesitates.

Whatever is going to come out of her mouth, you already know you’re not going to like it.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong and I’m mistaking him for someone else but I’m pretty positive I’m right and, ah” Another pause, you’re about to faint. “There’s no way to break it down to you in a way that won’t hurt but” she sighs “he’s lying to you.”

Ice fills your veins. You can feel dread crawling up your spine.

Is he someone else’s boyfriend? Are you the other woman or is he cheating on you? Is he a professional scammer?

“What the hell are you talking about Gracie?” Jade almost shouts, and you’re one heartbeat away from fainting.

Grace looks at you with all the pity in the world and you want nothing more than to erase that expression from her face.

“He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

The world around you stops spinning for a second as the ring in your ears get louder. You just wish the ground could open up and swallow you whole.

All of a sudden you start laughing hysterically like she’s told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard, you laugh so ugly that a few heads turn in your direction and give you funny looks, so loud that your friends are startled and even more worried.

Jaime, your sweet baby boy who adopted a three legged blind cat no one else at the shelter wanted to save him from being euthanized.

Jaime who volunteers at the VA with his pal Sam to help war vets reintegrate in society after they get back home, because he knows what it’s like to have your life turned around, to find yourself with no commands to obey all of a sudden and more trauma than you know what to do with. He knows what it is like to know no peace, to sleep a couple hours a week until you’re hallucinating so bad you’re begging the universe to just end your suffering.

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve.

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly.

Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

He goes grocery shopping for the elderly couple next door whose kids never visit, because they are too weak, too sick, too tired to leave the house.

“I’m sorry sweetie, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have know.”

Grace hands you a phone, open on his Wikipedia page.

Jaime’s sky-blue eyes stare back at you.

You really let him play a number on you, didn’t you?

You feel a hot surge of blinding anger and you want to tear the world apart, you want to take Jaime- no, not Jaime, James and bitch slap him in the face so damn hard you convey the humiliation you’re feeling right now, knowing that the man you love and thought you knew lied to your face for five fucking months.

Did he ever consider coming clean, revealing his true identity?

Was he ever planning on telling you? Or would he move in with you, wake up and go to bed with you every day feeding you lies upon lies?

Would you end up married to a man that doesn’t exist and have kids with a ghost?

Grow old with a guy who said he was 33 but is actually 99?

Would he never get undressed in front of you? How was he planning on hiding is metal arm? Surely one day you’d be intimate and you would see it? The whole “I want to wait cause I’m old fashioned like that” would eventually need to stop.

Or maybe it wasn’t a serious relationship at all for him, not in the way it was for you. Not in the way you wanted to spend the rest of your days loving him and making him the happiest man alive. Not in the way you were ready to commit to him, body and soul, for all eternity.

Now the endearing terms he used to call you, his babydoll, his little doll, they taste bitter on your tongue.

A doll, literally. A little toy to play with and toss aside once he got bored of his little game.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out like this?

It reminds you of that time in your junior year of college, you were dating this guy back then, and you liked him, he was fun, the sex was good, he supported you in your endless hours of cheer practice.

One day he told you he was sick and couldn’t make it to your afternoon study date. That same night you ran into him at a frat party with his friends. Wasn’t so sick after all.

You broke up on the spot, shed a few tears while your teammates held you and moved on with your life with your head held high, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life no matter how many curveballs the universe throws your way.

You vividly recall what hurt the most: the feeling of being lied to and toyed with. The hot humiliation that burns your cheeks and makes your eyes water when you realized you have yet again misplaced your trust. The inevitable question that plague you for days on end: what else did he lie about? How could I be so damn stupid?

His name was Tommy, and sometimes in the following years your first instinct when a man told you anything was to obsess over whether they were being honest or not. Until Jaime, that is, you trusted Jaime with your life, you would never question him, and look where that got you.

You’re aware you’re overthinking and maybe overreacting at this point, and that wailing in your own misery while your girlfriends are out having fun in a club is doing you no good, nor is it changing your current predicament. But you never listen to the voice of reason, and you won’t start today.

The room feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

You’re sweating but your body is shaking. You’re breathing but the air you inhale won’t reach your lungs. You’re blinking your eyes frantically but you only see darkness. You hear your own heart beat out of your chest.

It seems like the room you’re in is closing down on you and there’s no space left, you’re being crushed by those walls around you, you’re drowning, you’re suffocating.

Is this what heartbreak feels like, or is it just a heart attack?

Turns out it’s a panic attack, you know because you typed your symptoms on Google.

You are painfully aware you’re spiralling out of control.

Get a grip.

All you can think about is how you want him to suffer, you want him to feel the same humiliation you’re feeling right now. You want him to feel his chest compress, his throat tighten, you want him to know what it’s like when your heart is breaking in a thousand pieces and you can’t even breathe.

You want his world to come tumbling down on him and crush him under the weight of his mistakes.

You don’t care why he did it. You don’t give a single fuck about his reasons.

Because the truth is, no matter who he was in his past life, no matter how many he killed or tortured, you would have loved him all the same. You would have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders if it meant he could sleep soundly at night.

But he didn’t give you a chance to.

And because you never fucking think before you act, you put your best dress on a join the girls at the club they’re at, and you hope the tequila is going to drown your sorrow and dull the pain burning you from within.

Tonight you don’t want to feel anymore.

Four months ago.

Brooklyn, New York.

Every morning, Bucky wakes up at 5.30 am and joins Steve Rogers on his jog around the neighborhood, and every morning without failure Bucky is grumpy about it. He hates the early mornings, especially in the winter, but he can’t find it in himself to refuse Steve anything.

Steve is smart and too observing for his own good and he knows that something has changed. He knows it in the way Bucky’s steps are louder and bouncier, his back is straighter, his smile is easier, his eyes shine brighter.

He knows it because underneath the sandalwood scent of Buck’s deodorant and the musky smell of his sweat, he can sometimes detect the less pungent fragrance of coconut and peaches.

“So, who is she?”

The question catches him off guard. Bucky stops dead in his track and looks at his friend like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

At that he has the decency to blush.

“She’s- she’s perfect. I met her on the ride home from the shelter. ‘member when we were kids, we used to dream about the future? I swore I’d get myself a pretty wife and love her for the rest of my days and have a bunch of kids?”

“Yeah, I used to tell you you’d have to stop dragging me in those god awful double dates, or else you wouldn’t get any of those pretty girls to stick around.”

The two share a bittersweet smile as they reminisce how their life could have been.

“She’s pretty, you know, she’s sweet, she’s a bit of an asshole but the good kind, she’s so damn smart, you know all those science things I used to like before the war? She knows them all. She’s an engineer. I know my Ma would have approved of her, and Becca would have died to have her as a sister.”

“So why’s that long face?”

Bucky snorts.

Of course, how could Captain America understand? People don’t avoid him like he’s got some infectious disease, they don’t give him dirty looks, girls don’t cross the street when they see him, mothers with kids on their hips don’t cover their children as if he was the Boogeyman. “She didn’t recognize me, and well I- I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t want me, and I like her too much to mess this up.”

“Buck.” Steve gives him his best stern look. “You have to tell her, she has a right to know who she’s seeing. If she’s the one she’s going to love you all the same, but don’t lie to her. These secrets can only backfire in the long run. It’s going to ruin your relationship.”

Bucky nods absentmindedly and continues running without uttering another word.

No one could ever love his true self, he thinks bitterly. No one could help him carry the weight of his past on his shoulders.

If only he had known back then how right Stevie would be, he would have told you everything four months ago.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky fandom #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #9- Cops is Filmed on Location With the Mechs of Law Enforcement

It’s time for some gotdang origin stories, y’all.

Back before the war, when Functionist ideology was really just rocking the scene hardcore, Nightbeat stood outside of Maccadam’s New Oil House and had a chat with Quark.

No, not that Quark, the other one.

Quark’s reading an article at Nightbeat’s request about an attack on something called a relinquishment clinic, by a member of the Decepticons. Quark’s not a huge fan of the Decepticons, because he’s got a good thing going on Functionist Cybertron as a rare proton microscope, and even if things aren’t perfect, they’re pretty okay for him personally. At least he’s aware of his privilege.

Don’t be so quick to judge, Quark. Some Decepticons are into microscopes.

He’s pretty convinced that if the Decepticons get their way, they’re going to murder anyone who’s never handled a shovel. This is the same sort of misconception a lot of people have about the phrase “eat the rich”- it’s more about those who benefit from the social structure by way of oppressing others as opposed to those who flourish within it by their own work ethic and talents.

Granted, we as the reader know that shit is absolutely going to go sideways for everyone once the war kicks off, but Quark as it currently stands shouldn’t be nearly as worried as he is. He thinks Rung of all people is a threat, so you can tell he’s really feeling the paranoia of the times.

Hi Rung! Hope you’re enjoying your you-time. It’s important to have that, good for mental health.

The conspiracy convo gets cut short as Quark’s drink gets dripped in.

I mean, it’s all the same stuff, right? He could probably still drink it. Waste not, want not.

In the present day, we set up our framing device, with all of our friends welcoming Ratchet into the fray, as he shows off the fact that he finally color-matched his hands to the rest of his body.

Here’s a little joke for you: a spiritualist, two doctors, an archivist, a sentient marshmallow, a victim of ritualistic mutilation, and the hottest guy on the ship watch a third doctor walk into a bar.

Gentlemen, please, I haven’t even gotten to the punchline yet.

Anyway, Rewind’s set up this little hang sesh for medicinal purposes, after consulting Chromedome on the nature of the brain.

Rung’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got a head again, but he’s not really… functional right now. Hence this little meet up- everyone here has had their paths cross many times in the past, whether they realized it or not.

Except Tailgate, who took a six million year dirt-nap. He’s just here for shits and giggles.

And Swerve, but it’s his bar, and he’s lonely, so of course he’s going to stick around for this.

Anyway, those assembled will be taking turns in telling the story they all played a part in, in an attempt to kick-start Rung’s brain back into letting him do literally anything. Thanks to his obscenely large collection of historical documents and footage, Rewind more or less knows the structure the story will take- as shown by his conspiracy bulletin board that maps out everything that will be covered in the Shadowplay arc. The central pin in all this? Well, it’s Transformers, and it’s been a hot minute since we’ve seen the face of the franchise, so you tell me who it’s going to be.

Rewind sets the scene, giving everyone the skinny on the setting we’ll be in for the next little bit.

Way to see the silver lining, Swerve.

Chromedome starts the story off, because he’s a main character in all this, and also if you think Rewind would pass up the chance to listen to this capital-T-shaped dweeb talk, you’re deluding yourself.

In the past Chromedome worked mechaforensics- y’know, forensics for mecha- under a different name, which we will not be learning at this current time because it’ll muddle the already-convoluted narrative we’re about to get going here. Chromedome had the displeasure of working alongside then-desk jockey, Prowl.

Awful geared up for a desk jockey, ain’t he?

Yep. Chromedome used to be a cop, he partnered up with Prowl, he looked even more like a koala than he does now, and he was on the case of the assassinated Senator Sherma. What they don’t tell you is that if Sherma had turned out to have survived the ordeal of being strung up from a bridge upside-down, he would have been charged with food and health code violations for that little stunt he pulled on Quark’s drink.

Skids breaks the narrative flow to get the low-down on Prowl’s whole deal, because he doesn’t know who that is. Swerve breaks it down real quick, while Rewind provides visual aid.

A for effort.

The boys get a little distracted discussing Prowl’s anger management practices, until Drift asks that they move on, because Rodimus is sending him insulting messages on his tiny and paper thin comm because he can’t handle being ignored by his #1 fan. It’s just as well though, because it’s Drift’s turn to spin the yarn.

So, once upon a time, Drift wasn’t doing so hot. It wasn’t the whole “I’m a murderous Decepticon” thing- that was later on- but rather a horrific drug addiction, sense of self-loathing and being homeless. On the day of Sherma’s assassination, Drift was so out of his gourd on circuit speeders, he didn’t even register the fact that he was approached by a pair of robots and promptly beaten by the two of them for money.

Things looks bad for poor Drift, but not to worry, because the main reason for this arc existing just showed up.

There he is, in all his pin-up art glory.

Orion Pax, the mech who would become Optimus Prime, proceeds to arrest Sonic and Boom- yeah, it’s the two guys from Delphi, we aren’t wasting the brain power on creating two new characters for this one scene, that’s crazy talk- and then calls for a bus to keep Drift from biting it due to drug overdose.

Listen to the professionals, folks. They know more than you about the shit that can kill you. It’s why they get paid the big bucks.

(I have no idea what Ratchet’s salary is like.)

Drift is taken to Ratchet’s super-secret, please-don’t-tell-the-Senate-about-this clinic in the Dead End, where we get a taste of Drift riffing on Ratchet in the present, as he paints a picture of a spiritual young doctor who actively and loudly praises Adaptus as he works on a ODing patient. The Ratchet of the here and now doesn’t appreciate this twisting of the truth, and makes it known by smearing his still-wet hand paint all over Drift’s face.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet back in issue #4. Here, Roberts tends to the seeds of their shared past that were planted in the Delphi arc.

Drift didn’t take Ratchet’s advice back then, something that is and will continue to be a running issue for the two of them, and the sudden downshift in tone lets Tailgate ask about just what in the sam hill a relinquishment clinic is. Chromedome fills him in, Rewind providing visuals.

A relinquishment clinic was a place where a Transformer could sell their body- not in a sex-work way, but literally, as you let someone else have their spark planted into your vacated frame for a short period of time, just to try out different modes and looks. It was expensive, and only used to get around the fact that only the most elite of cybertronians could alter their bodies, because only they had enough influence to have the Functionist Senate look the other way. Ratchet never approved of the practice, and this is where he takes over the story.

Too bad we don’t get to see what all that’s about just yet, because there are more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that Nominus Prime is dead.

Seems like there’s a conspiracy at hand, and Orion is considering introducing Ratchet to a friend on the inside- and in the present time, Drift leaves to go meet with Rodimus so he’ll stop being a pest. Chromedome picks his story thread back up, bringing us to Prowl’s requested autopsy.

The boys in the lab broke Sherma down to his base parts, labeled each part, and laid them out on the floor in no discernible order. Maybe it’s based on the Cybertronian alphabet. I suppose we’ll never know.

The autopsy revealed that Sherma was shot several times, which we’d already managed to suss out at the scene of the crime, without getting half the forensics team involved, but we did get a little something for our troubles.

More evidence for Rodimus’ Uggs.

No, I’m never letting this go, don’t even bother asking.

The kind of glass that they found is only found in one specific area of Iacon, known as Translucentica Heights, and how about that! Prowl just so happens to have a search warrant for Translucentica Heights. Wow. Way to go, Prowl.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and Orion are hanging out at the monument for the Ark-1, which is the ship that fucked off into space and got eaten by the Dead Universe. Cyclonus remembers. I bet he kind of wishes that he didn’t, but he remembers.

Orion’s very good friend the Senator shows up, and Orion introduces him to Ratchet. The Senator was first introduced in Chaos Theory- he’s convinced that Orion is a very special individual, and had his body altered without permission while he was passed out, so that he might one day carry the Matrix.

Orion is maybe just a touch too trusting of authority figures, unless that figure is god himself.

Ratchet helps create a visage of not-plotting, as Orion and the Senator discuss whether or not Nominus was assassinated by the Senate. Dear Senator says “fuck yeah he was” and it was in no small part due to the fact that the Matrix he was carrying was a fake.

There’s also something that’s going on between Sentinel and the Decepticons, which leads Orion to ask about Megatron and how he’s doing. He’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t given the Senate that he directly opposes his full name and occupation, Orion, but it’s sweet that you’re worried.

Back with the wonder cops, Chromedome and Prowl are shooting across the sky to the tune of Shooting Star as they make their way over to Translucentica Heights. They discuss the validity of claims that the Institute exists as they make their way over to Sherma’s apartment building, when someone gets thrown out the window from roughly 4000 stories up.

Trailbreaker was right, Fort Max having guns in his legs doesn’t make him special, if these losers are doing it too.

In the present, Drift’s finally caught up with Rodimus in the oil reservoir, where he’s coaxing Grapple like a wounded baby deer through pulling something out of the muck.

It’s Red Alert, and he’s seen better days.

I mean, sure, that seems like the most likely option, seeing as he’s the only non-Autobot aboard this giant stupid ship, and you haven’t done anything to actually gather evidence on what’s happened to our pal here. It makes sense for the knee-jerk reaction to be to blame the dude who blew up Kimia.

We’ll see where that line of thought gets us next issue.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #shadowplay #issue 9 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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barnesandco · 5 years ago

Text

Nikah: March

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. Thank you all for reading and commenting! (Picture below is mine, btw)

Bucky’s birthday arrives amidst blooming flowers and a pollen-scented breeze, the day marked by preparations for a party Sam is throwing for him at one of the hotels downtown. Avengers and close friends only, yet he’s spared no expense, insisting on a proper welcome back. The captain is unrelenting in matters of social activity, especially since he has been spending minimal time with his teammates since his marriage. Marriage. He shakes his head at himself in the floor length mirror as he straightens his cuff-links and moonlight catches on the gold band on his finger. It no longer feels like a burden.

Rather, it’s a seed that’s been planted on him, and it’s taken root inside him, growing, growing, growing into a steady feeling of friendship with the person he wears it for. An understanding, a companionship. He refuses to confess to anything more, even within the confines of his own mind. His heart, on the other hand, has no compunctions about making its opinion known, setting off like a hare being hunted whenever she approaches. Most dangerous assassin in the world, defeated by her smile.

She offers him one now when she enters, picture perfect elegance very nearly succeeding in concealing her nerves. Bucky’s nerves, meanwhile, are on fire at the sight of her, sensory overload short-circuiting his brain. He finally turns to look at her directly and the fox-hunt pace of his heart stumbles, stutters to a stop.

“You- you’re- jeepers,” Is all he can manage, the rosewater blush deepening on his cheeks. It has the opposite of the desired effect, and she steps back, mascaraed eyes widening, horrified.

“It’s too much, isn’t it. Oh God, I knew I should’ve-” She begins to reach for a tissue box on the dresser and Bucky stops her. Lowers her hand slowly and keeps a hold of it, as if she will float away otherwise.

“Jesus, doll, stop. You’re perfect,” He tells her, and she slips her hand away but smiles a little as she sits on the foot of the bed - their bed - to put on her shoes.

“Thank you. You look nice, too,” She says, lifting the hem of her black gown as she pulls on pearl white heels. The matching clutch - pearl encrusted - is on the bedside table, and he hands it to her as they leave the room and then the apartment.

“Hang on, your tie is loose,” She says the moment they enter the elevator. He can’t even press the button for the ground floor while she holds him in place. The split-second it takes for her to wrap her hands around the green silk and pull it tighter stretches into hours, the graze of her knuckles gentle in his cotton-covered chest. He has enough time to carve the shape of her cupid’s bow into his mind, the descent of her jaw to her chin into his lungs. After half an eternity, she puts distance between them again and presses the button while he tries to smooth his hair back only to feel the short strands tickle between his fingers, and he remembers cutting it last week.

The lobby is bustling, people coming and going like bees in a hive, and they nod their hellos and offer the doorman a Good evening before getting in the car Sam sent. The seats are cold and comfortable, and the chauffeur tips his hat once in the rear-view mirror before putting the Rolls Royce into gear.

“ ‘Possess ye, therefore, ye who borne about In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue’ ” She murmurs, letting her fingers trace the stitching in the butter-soft leather.

“Marlowe?” Bucky asks, turning away from the New York evening, that special, streetlights-reflecting-on-wet-asphalt evening, to look at his wife.

“William Cowper. The Task.”

“I think I’ve read that one,” He lies, fully prepared to come clean, and she looks at him curiously.

“Wow, really? Even I haven’t read all six books,” She says, dubiously verging on impressed, and Bucky drops the facade.

“I’m pullin’ your leg. I’ve read some of Cowper’s work. Don’t remember much, but bits and pieces of school are still there,” He explains, all cheeky smile. “What’s it about? And why in God’s good name is it six books long?” This - the conversation, letting her talk about her work, her passion for literature - this he can do. Playful questions intermingling with genuine intellectual interest is manageable. Her beauty, her grace, the cloud of perfume that bleeds into his veins and makes his lungs strive for air, is not. So he concentrates on what he knows. Or doesn’t know, apparently.

“Honestly, what isn’t The Task about?” She laughs, eyeshadow glimmering like stardust in the smile wrinkles in the corners of her intelligent eyes. “Cowper had a bit of a breakdown during his barrister training in London, and retired to the countryside. In 1781, he met his friend Lady Austen, who later gave him a task to write about, to cheer him up. He started, and then just followed that train of thought wherever it took him.”

“Which book is that line from?” Bucky asks as the car stops in the inevitable Friday night traffic jam. At least they accounted for it, leaving early on purpose to avoid tardiness.

“I don’t actually remember. I think it’s from an extract in which Cowper criticizes the superficial pleasures and unnecessary luxuries of city life,” She answers, opening her clutch. Her phone and a tube of lipstick peek out but she reaches deeper for a pair of earrings.

Closing her eyes, she fastens the first one on the side Bucky can’t see, the other crescent-moon shaped accessory in her silk draped lap. The flower made from pearls matches her bracelet, the two pieces of jewellery clinking together as she puts on the other one.

“City life, huh?” Bucky muses, trying desperately to calm his heart. The earrings dangle, contrasting wonderfully against her simple black gown, and he swallows. She looks like royalty.

“Yeah, many poets of the time wrote a lot about the beauty of nature. They had a lot more of it at their disposal, I guess,” She shrugs.

“Do you have any favorites?” “Nature poems? I don’t know. There are so many good ones. Wordsworth’s To the Cuckoo, Herrick’s Daffodils, Yeats’ Wild Swans at Coole, Tennyso-” She cuts herself off with a huff of a laugh at herself.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, no- I just-” She laughs again, trying to wave her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “I just have conflicting feelings about these poems by classical authors who write about nature. Poems that express a keen appreciation of beauty yet are fillled with sadness because so many beautiful things are short-lived and because human life itself is so short,” She says, twirling the ring around her finger, deep in thought. Bucky doesn’t know how he found her. This simple, wise soul, in the midst of all the chaos of the world. The chaos of resettlement.

The chaos of the kitchen, an hour before dinner as the Avengers prepare dinner together, is unholy. Sam’s panicking about dessert while Wanda stirs the marinara sauce for spaghetti in her signature demure fashion, while Peter’s pile of handmade spaghetti grows taller and the pasta dough shrinks. His phone lights up on the table, and Bucky - kneading more dough nearby - is the only one who notices. He calls for Peter and pushes it over to him, not knowing what the point of having a phone is if it’s always going to be on silent, but Peter holds it out to him after just a moment of conversation.

Bucky reads the caller ID on the top and sees who it is, closing the kitchen door behind him, flour on his black t-shirt, as she speaks.

“Hi, Bucky. I hope I’m not disturbing.”

“No, not at all. Have you decided?” He asks, pacing the hallway, staying out of sight of the others. Not that it matters, they’re still fairly busy. She had seemed unsure when they met, and he had given her time to decide it she wanted to do this.

“Yeah, but I just- this is a huge favor,” She says.

“Not to me, doll. I’m just helping a friend of a friend,” He says, and it isn’t entirely true. That isn’t why he’s doing this. Something in him wanted to help, wanted to repay the debt of kindness that he owes the world. This is how he wants to do it, although he doesn’t think it’s fair that he gets to choose his penance.

“I thought you said Peter talks your ears off.” Bucky cringes, grateful she can’t see his face, even though he can hear the joking lilt of her tone.

“He’s a good kid. And I want to do this. Do you?”

“Yeah.” A lengthy pause, heavy and tangible, even across the phone line.

“When do you want to get married?” She asks finallly, voice shaking. His hand is, too.

“We have a week-long mission right after Christmas. Boxing day arms deal in Sao Paulo,” He replies, cursing the Brazilian gangs who could find no other time do get up to no good. Evil doesn’t go on vacation, and neither do the Avengers.

“So… New Year’s Eve?” She asks, doing the math. He realizes that’s true. A week from Boxing Day.

“Yes. Shit, you don’t have a ring-” He begins to say, freaking out about the logistics. He didn’t even propose properly.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye Bucky.”

“G’night.” He bids her farewell, then looks at the phone, asking himself what the hell he’s just gotten himself into. A knot builds and twists in his body, and he tries to loosen it. Breathes, and makes his way back.

“I’m engaged,” And the kitchen freezes in time as they all drop everything - not literally, Sam’s holding a knife - to look at him. The smile on Peter’s face is brighter than the Christmas tree in the adjacent common room, and the somersaults in Bucky’s stomach only settle at the sight of his relief.

It seems that his teammates gave him a later time on purpose, because they’re all ready, dressed to the nines and wine-tipsy, waiting for him when they enter. It’s a small ballroom, downtown Manhattan, quaint and graceful. A chorus of Happy Birthday erupts in the room, and he smiles and thanks them. The hugs pile on, and he begins to introduce his wife to his friends. Home away from home for the man who has never had one since the 1940s - until he met her, that is. She’s home now, though he wouldn’t tell her that.

Instead, he relishes in the grin she offers him between introductions, till Sam drags him off to stand him on a chair and sing a birthday song. The party commences in much a similar fashion, too much noise in the room for a couple of dozen people. He stays away from Thor’s alcohol, knowing she doesn’t drink, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

He’s just thinking about how she might be dealing with the hectic atmosphere when her hand slips into his while he’s talking to Harley Keener about letting him look at his arm. He’s shocked, looks at her to see her smiling and concentrating only on the conversation, but he can tell she’s tired. It’s been hours, and he knows he can’t leave early - it’s his party - but he just wants to slip those heels off her feet and sit and talk, still in partywear, for hours on end. Let her quote Byron and Cowper and Austen to him, poems and essays and books, until he falls asleep on their sofa. Instead, her voice says something he isn’t expecting at all.

“Is it possible to put some sort of temp regulation in it?” She asks curiously, head tilted to the side like a sparrow. Harley thinks it over for only a second.

“Of course, why?”

“It hurts in the cold. He rubs and rolls his shoulder a lot in the winter,” She answers, and the thoughtful observation astounds him. It’s accurate, but it hadn’t even occurred to him, the movements that she’s citing entirely subconscious. They talk to Harley for a while longer, and then dance to several of Bucky’s favorite songs. Billie Holliday is crooning in the background as the second-to-last guest exits, leaving only his wife and his captain and his deputy director. When the door shuts behind them, they break apart, and Sam and Maria approach, ready to call it a night.

The car ride home passes in complete silence, a comfortable weight resting like a blanket between them, so much so that she falls fully asleep on the way, her head resting against the cold window when they arrive. He doesn’t have the heart to wake her, so he goes around to her door, opening it slowly and lifting her into his arms, not caring what it might look like to onlookers. It’s late, and there are few of them, at least in the lobby, and as the elevator doors shut, her head curls against his shoulder, hair tickling his Adam’s apple.

Bucky looks down at her, her resting, easy expression, the chandni earrings still on, and thinks: what a way to turn 103.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121 @starnight-charmer

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #slow burn #bucky barnes x desi!reader #desi!reader

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