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ravens-two · 2 months

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PAC: What Does Your Future Spouse Look Like?

This reading includes:

your FS's general physical traits

your FS's vibes & celebrities with similar vibes

The extended reading includes:

your FS's fashion style

your first impression of your FS

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

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Pile 1

Houdini - Dua Lipa

Five of Cups, Ten of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles

Pile 1, the first thing I notice in your person is their eyes. It's not necessarily about the color - although it could be that they're a particularly pretty color - but more that they are very expressive. It also seems that for most of you, this person has really big eyes. Perhaps round or almond shaped too. Think something like Al Pacino, Cate Blanchett, Liv Tyler, Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody for example. They can convey a lot of emotion with just their eyes. I also see that some of them have crow's feet when they smile too, which is really endearing honestly.

Another thing that I pick up from your person is that they seem to have a vaguely sad vibe to them. Do you know that meme "my poor little meow meow"? Their vibe is a bit similar in a way. They just look like they're sad and you have the urge to take care of them. Again, think a bit about someone like Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody.

When it comes to their body they're tall or, at least, they give the impression of being tall and broad. Especially for men, they have broad shoulders even if they aren't muscled or chubby. For the women I also think that they tend to have broad shoulders and a narrower waist, but their most prominent feature seems to be their chest. They may have big boobs or they tend to use clothes that emphasize their boobs. I think that even for the men, their chest is quite prominent.

When it comes to vibes it's mostly what I've already said your person has this "please love me" vibe. Despite this, they're capable of commanding attention and they tend to look quite elegant. It may be that they have a lot of pisces placements or a pisces rising. In general, I think that they're attractive, but not like conventionally attractive or Hollywood attractive if that makes sense.

I also think that your person shows themself differently to different people. With you they may feel more comfortable to be a "poor little meow meow" while with others they're more closed off and may even appear a bit cold. I just heard that they have a poker face, so with other people they may completely close off and be hard to read.

(extended reading here)

Pile 2

Kiss Me More - Doja Cat ft. SZA

Six of Wands, Page of Wands, Eight of Swords

Hi, pile 2, your FS is the type of person that gets other people's attention. They are very conventionally attractive (I feel like especially when it comes to their face), but they don't really see themselves life this. In fact, I think that they're quite insecure about their appearance. This almost feels like body dysmorphia honestly (and for some of you it could be related to them being trans, while for others it could be related to an eating disorder). The reality is that they can't see themselves the way other people see them.

They have really thick and luscious hair - it reminds me a bit of Carlos Sainz or Ben Barnes for the men - and most likely it's either wavy or straight. For most of you they have rather long hair, the men tend to have up to shoulder length hair, while for the women it can come down to their waist. When it comes to color, most likely it's dark, but for some of you it could be bleached.

Most of them seem to have tanned or dark skin, this isn't really about skin color, if they have black skin for example, it's really dark. For the people with lighter-skin they have a tendency to blush a lot or get flushed (especially after drinking). They also have really pretty teeth, probably very straight or they just look endearing, and a pretty mouth too. Despite having a pretty mouth not all of them have thick lips, it's more about the shape of their mouth. I feel like they tend to smile a lot. It kind of reminds me of Julia Roberts a bit who is known for her smile.

Some celebrities that have similar vibes to them are Carlos Sainz, Julia Roberts, Anok Yai, Adut Akech, Dominik Szoboszlai and Michael B. Jordan.

When it comes to their vibes they seem to be youthful and always in their own world. It's almost like they aren't really paying attention to what's going on around them. They also seem to be a bit introverted or closed-off in public, despite all the eyes that they attract. If surrounded by friends they may be a bit more open and might be cracking up jokes with them. No matter what they seem to be really nice and will always give a small smile to other people, like the waiter at the restaurant for example.

(extended reading here)

Pile 3

The Shadow of Your Smile - Nancy Sinatra

Four of Pentacles, King of Swords rx, Ace of Pentacles

Pile 3, your person doesn't seem to be very tall. They're either medium height or actually small. It may also be that their vertical line is short even if they are in fact on the taller side they seem shorter than they really are. But, the most noticeable thing about them is that they seem to always have a serious expression on their face - some of them even have a resting bitch face. I think that they have very expressive eyebrows, they may even move them without meaning to. You'll be able to tell what they think by their eyebrows. Like, they may have look super serious almost as if they're upset but by their eyebrows you can actually tell that they're just relaxed. Speaking of their eyebrows they also seem to be very full or bushy. I don't think that there's a monobrow here, but it could also be the case.

When it comes to their face your FS has really strong facial features, especially their jaw and nose. The jaw reminds me a bit of Angelina Jolie for the women and for the men it seems to be a bit of a mix between Timothée Chalamet and Henry Cavill. For some it's more square while for others it's sharper. The noses here tend to be either aquiline or roman, but either way they're also quite prominent. Think a bit Gisele Bundchen, Jenny Slate or Alba Flores for example, or Hrithik Roshan and Dev Patel.

I don't know how to explain it but they also have a very earthy vibe, like tanned skin, freckles, calloused hands, it's like they just came back from working in the garden, if that makes sense. They also have brown or black hair, and the men tend to have beards (nothing too big though). They also have super clear and healthy looking skin.

Besides the eyebrows I also think that they have really noticeable hands. Their hands may be big or just very pretty in general, they may be veiny too. Their nails are healthy and well kept, and they probably have long and thick fingers. The way they move their hands may also be very attractive, like their gestures or just by being very dextrous with their hands. When it comes to their body they tend to be thicker or chubbier, I'm seeing like amazing and really thick thighs for both men and women. I also feel like your FS exercises a lot or they move a lot because of their work and so they tend to be chubby with a lot of muscle underneath.

In general, I think that their vibe is just very chill. They have a "don't fuck with me" vibe, but they're just doing their own thing and don't really want anyone to bother them. They also seem to be very hard-workers and earthy as I said, like down-to-earth too. These aren't people with delusions of grandeur.

(extended reading here)

Pile 4

Crazy - Aerosmith

Lovers rx, Empress rx, Knight of Cups

Pile 4, this is my androgynous and gender non-conforming pile. If you're familiar with the Kibbe body types or essences, these people would be the Ethereal or Angelic essence. Do you know the Lord of the Rings elves? Yeah, basically that's the vibe. Their features are delicate and they can look a bit otherworldly. Think of Tilda Swinton, Willow Smith, Halle Bailey or Lisa Bonnet. For the men you have again Lee Pace and Orlando Bloom as elves, but also Eddie Redmayne, Cillian Murphy, Jared Leto and Ethan Torchio. For me, Ethan Torchio from Maneskin is the best example for men here. He embodies the facial features and hair that makes him look quite androgynous, and also a bold and avant-garde style.

In general, your person tends to look a bit flirty or mischievous. Again, they have this elf or fairy vibe to them. They tend to look playful and approachable. This isn't the type of person you'd be afraid of talking to, they just seem super nice and open.

No matter the skin color your person also tends to be pale, this is more their complexion really. Some of them may look a bit like vampires think Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire. They also have clear skin and the men tend not to have beards. When it comes to hair it tends to be long, especially for the men. For the women, I actually think that they may tend to have shorter hair or even a shaved head.

Their faces are beautiful, but not really conventionally attractive. They have something otherworldly about them that just pulls you to them. They may also have asymmetrical faces, especially when it comes to the eyes or jaw. Also, speaking of eyes they have really intense eyes. The type that seems that they can look right through you. Besides pile 1, this is the pile that seems like they may have light eyes.

When it comes to their body shape they are leaner instead of muscly or thick. They may have muscle definition, but they're just lean and maybe a bit lanky. They seem like they have a high vertical line or they're tall. In general though, they're just long. They have long legs, long arms, even long fingers.

(extended reading here)

#pick a card #pick a card reading #fs pac #fs pick a pile #fs pick a card #love tarot reading #tarot #pac reading #tarot reading #pac #pick a pile

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writing-for-marvel · 6 months

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Day 19: Sex Toys

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky controls your vibrator while you’re out for dinner.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, use of a vibrator, reader wearing a butt plug, public orgasm, implied anal sex

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Bucky has loved surprising you with gifts throughout your honeymoon, even though he has already given you the best gift of all when he married you.

First, it was a completely new closet of designer clothes, already tailored to your measurements - you’re still unsure how he managed to get your exact proportions without you knowing.

Then it had been a cabinet full of jewellery fit for a queen. All your favourite gemstones, those that brought out the colour of your eyes and complimented your complexion, in necklaces, bracelets, rings - every type of jewellery you can imagine, even a tiara.

This morning, you woke up to a conspicuously small box beside you in bed. James Barnes never did anything on a small scale, and although you kept reminding him he didn’t need to bestow you with lavish gifts (as if this extravagant honeymoon around Europe isn’t already enough of a wedding present), Bucky has a weakness when it comes to spoiling you.

“Open it darling.” His voice has a fluctuation of amusement to it, which only makes you all the more eager to find out what’s inside.

With your curiosity piqued, you carefully untie the ribbon holding the box shut. As you open the lid, you're met with a playful smile from Bucky. Inside the box, there's a white and gold envelope and two small white drawstring bags.

You pull out the envelope first, noticing the intricate pattern embossed on the paper. You carefully open the seal and pull out a handwritten card that reads, ‘To my beloved wife, at the halfway point of our honeymoon. You're a goddess and deserve to be worshipped every second for the rest of our lives. Here is a small token of my devotion. Forever yours, James’.

Your eyes become blurry with happy tears as you pull open the other two items within the box. In one bag is a pink egg vibrator. In the other, a classic teardrop shaped butt plug with a dazzling sapphire at its base.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you stare at the sex toys glistening in the light of the rising sun. Bucky knows exactly how to spoil you in every way imaginable, especially in the bedroom. You bite your lip and cast a glance at your husband, who's watching you with amusement dancing in his perfect blue eyes.

"What did you have in mind for these?" You ask innocently, trying to mask the excitement in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and steps closer to you on the bed, his fingers deftly untying your silk robe to reveal your naked body. You shiver as his warm hands trail down your curves, and he bites his lip. He leans in to press his lips against your ear, the scruff of his beard tickling your sensitive skin.

"I was thinking we could try them out tonight. Have a little fun at dinner." His husky voice sends shivers down your spine and a wetness flooding your core. You nod eagerly, loving how your body responds to his tantalising touch and the anticipation of what the evening will bring.

It takes a little bit of practice to learn how to walk in tall heels with an egg vibrator sitting pretty between your legs, even when it isn’t switched on, and the butt plug in your ass.

It does help that Bucky's hand rests on your lower back as he guides you into the extravagant restaurant, but with each step his hand dips lower and by the time the smartly dressed waiter has shown you where your private booth is, Bucky is practically squeezing your ass.

The booth is large enough to fit eight people around, but Bucky chooses to sit right beside you, shoulders touching and hand intertwined with yours. He places a gentle kiss to the back of your hand as you look over the menu, unsure what half of the options even are.

You adore how affectionate he is, there's nothing better than seeing the one person you love more than life itself show that they reciprocate that feeling, but this time you know he’s just buttering you up. Biding his time until he decides to unexpectedly turn the vibrator on.

That thought wanders to the back of your mind as Bucky and you enjoy the privacy of your table. The restaurant clearly is used to catering to high profile clientele as you can barely hear nor see any other patrons even though the place has been fully booked for months.

As Bucky makes you laugh, and orders you a bottle of your favourite wine, you almost completely forget about the two toys confidentially nestled within you, that is, until it becomes time for you to order meals.

“I’ll have the-” A shock, like that of being mildly electrocuted, sparks through your body, originating between your legs. You love your husband, but he is an absolute menace for subtly switching on your vibrator with his phone at this very moment.

You squeeze your thighs together and shift your hips in your seat at the new sensation, the egg vibrator coming to life at a dangerously addictive speed.

You don’t trust your voice not to betray you if you attempt to speak your order, so instead you point at the item on the menu you’re after. The waiter reads it back to you, but you simply nod without even paying attention to the words he spoke, you’re too caught up in how the toy continually stimulates your sensitive nerve endings, lighting your insides on fire.

You feel like you’re keeping a closely guarded secret as Bucky stares deeply into your eyes with affection, both of you knowing precisely what is happening beneath the surface as the rest of the world continues none the wiser with their life around you.

“I hate you.” You grumble once the waiter walks away, toes curling in your best stilettos and you shift your hips again, futilely trying to escape the building pleasure which is originating from deep within you.

“I love you too.” His tone is teasing, because he knows with absolute certainty there is no chance of you feeling anything but pure love for him in this lifetime or the next.

You’re drowning in his closeness, the enveloping scent of his expensive aftershave downright intoxicating and his breath on ear as he speaks lowly adds fuel to an already blazing inferno. When Bucky starts drawing slow shapes on your exposed thigh, his touch leaving goosebumps and tingles in its wake, you curse under your breath - it’s one thing to have the vibrator pulsing between your legs, but Bucky’s touch is something else.

“Doing okay baby?” He asks almost tauntingly in response to a moan falling from your lips and your hips rocking underneath the table. You’re on a fast track to heaven as the toy repeatedly massages every sensitive spot inside you, and with the limited space under the table, you’re forced to sit and take the onslaught.

“I’m doing fi-fuck!” You bite your lip but your outburst is rather loud, however, it’s not your fault for while you’re trying to compose yourself in this public setting, Bucky has increased the speed of the vibrator exponentially.

Your panties are completely soaked through now, and though you try to squeeze your thighs together in some feeble attempt to find some semblance of relief. The band in your lower stomach feels like it’s pulled so tight, ready to snap at any second. The tension hanging thick in the air at your table, but Bucky seems to be enjoying your little display for him.

He hooks his index finger under your chin and directs your eyes to his. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as you continue to squirm, slowly leaning closer until you’re mere millimetres from his lips. And as usual, he says the words that are the beginning of your undoing.

“My good girl always cums for me. Are you going to be good today?”

You frantically nod, wishing for nothing more than to be his best girl, his perfect wife. When his soft, supple lips press against yours, your chest blooms with honour and happiness at pleasing him as the wildfire blazes beneath your legs.

Bucky thrusts two fingers inside your mouth as you reach the peak of your high. Moaning around his digits muffles the sound somewhat, but you’re not concerned about anyone hearing at this moment, not when Bucky looks so incredibly proud of you. As your body spasms, Bucky coos and praises you, talking you through your orgasm as the toy continues to furiously pulsate within you, prolonging your shaking orgasm.

You barely have time to come down from your intense high once Bucky turns the vibrator off, and have time to breathe when your dinner is served. Somehow in the chaos of ordering, the waiter managed to get your order correct.

“Make sure you eat all your food, for what I have planned tonight, you’re going to need all your energy and strength.” He says surprisingly nonchalantly considering you were only mere seconds away from your waiter catching you mid orgasm.

You just smile, knowing that somehow with Bucky everything always works out for the best.

“Mmmm yeah, I bet your dick is gonna feel so good in my ass later.” You seductively whisper in his ear before digging into your food, taking pleasure in the longing glance he throws you, seemingly completely uninterested now in the delicious food in front of him.

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crazyunsexycool · 3 months

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My Little Love

💖It's Valentine's Day 💖

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.1K

warning: none this is just some pure fluff. Maybe Lottie trying to play cupid....

A/N: I wasn't going to write anything for Valentine's Day but I was inspired by @jvanilly 's ask so here it is.

Series masterlist

“Dada no wook.” Charlotte says loudly as she hides around the corner from the living room.

“Should I close my eyes, doll?”

“Yes, pwease.”

“Ok, they’re closed.” Bucky says with a smile at whatever it is that Lottie is up to now. He can hear her footsteps although they’re light against the hardwood floors.

“Ok wook it.”

Bucky opens his eyes to find Charlotte standing in front of him wearing a white shirt with a big pink heart, a pink tutu and white fluffy wings that look like they belong to angels on her back. Her hair is up in a twist held up in a heart shaped clip.

“Who do we have here? Are you Cupid?”

“Mmhhmmm. You wike it?” She asks as she does a spin for him to see the whole outfit.

“You’re the prettiest Cupid I’ve ever seen, doll.”

Lottie gets bashful and giggles at the compliment.

“Habe suwpwise.”

“For me?”

Lottie nods her head and holds out a handmade card for him. It’s a heart cut out of red construction paper glued to a white piece of paper and so much glitter.

“This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah.” She says shyly while looking up at him with those big blue eyes of hers.

“Thank you, doll. I love it.” Bucky picks her up and gives her a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Dada?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Dada be my vawentine?”

Bucky smiles down at his little girl. “I would love to be your valentine. Are you going to be mine?”

“Yeah. I be dada’s vawentine.”

“Good. Your first valentine’s day has to be special.”

****

“Hi mama.” Henry said almost as soon as you stepped out of the master bedroom.

“Hi sweet boy. What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Well something.” Henry gives you a sheepish look.

You narrow your eyes in his direction with a bit of suspicion. But his innocent smile let you know whatever he’s up to isn’t anything mischievous. Henry holds up a construction paper heart, and a few paper flowers.

“Will you be my valentine’s mama?”

“I would love to be your valentine.” You accept the flowers and the cards before giving him a hug. “Are you going to be my valentine’s too?”

Henry nods against your midsection before pulling away.

“Well we have to make your first valentine’s day super special, sweet boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

At Charlotte’s request you had curled her hair, pinning half of it up with heart shaped pins. You even let her wear a pink tinted lip balm and some soft pink eyeshadow. She was all smiles as she looked in the mirror.

“Do you like it, sweet angel? You look beautiful.” You said from behind her. Looking at her through the mirror.

“Is so pwetty mama.”

“I’m glad you like it. Now come on, let's get your dress and shoes on.”

“Kay.” Lottie hops off the stool she was sitting on and gets dressed up in her pink tulle dress with hearts all over.

“Alright, I’m going to finish getting ready ok.”

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

“Alright bubs.” Bucky fixes the collar of Henry’s shirt so that it goes over his graphic tee. Then he smoothes out the cardigan Henry was wearing. “When we knock we give them the flowers and chocolates ok? Also remember to tell them how nice they look.”

“Yup.”

“Let’s go get our girls then.” Bucky smiles as Henry grabs the flowers that he had picked out himself.

Bucky follows suit and they walk out of Steve’s apartment where they went to get dressed. Giving you and Lottie privacy to have your own girl’s day as you got ready for the family date.

At the door Henry knocks and waits for someone to answer the door. Lottie opens it with a huge smile on her face. It’s obvious she’s more than ready and excited for the evening. She lets Henry and Bucky in to wait for you to finish getting ready.

“Hi bubba. Hi dada.” She says.

“Hi baby. You look so pretty.”

“Tank you bubba.”

“Hello my valentine. You look like a princess.” Bucky takes a knee.

“Tank you dada.”

“These are for you.” Bucky holds out a small bouquet of flowers for her and a box of chocolates.

Charlotte gasps as she takes her gifts. She buries her nose in the flowers and inhales just how she has seen you do so many times.

“Is so nice dada, tank you.”

“You’re welcome, doll.”

You walk out a few minutes later, just as Bucky is putting Lottie’s flowers in a vase for her. He lets out a wolf whistle as he watches you reach the living room. You wore a red dress, the sleeves were short but puffy. The bodice hugged your curves and the skirt flared out with a slit up one leg. You smile over your shoulder at Bucky before turning your attention to Henry.

“Hi my sweet valentine.” You tell him.

“Hi mama, you look very pretty.”

“Thank you, sweet boy.” You smile before giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“These are for you.”

Henry holds out a box of chocolate and a bouquet of flowers similar to Lottie’s, just a bit bigger.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you so much. I love them. We have something for you too.”

Lottie runs off into your room coming back with some boxes of candy for them as well. It’s obvious that Henry and Bucky weren’t expecting anything so it was nice to see their matching smiles.

“Here,” Bucky offers you a vase with water in it already.

“Thanks baby.”

You place the flowers in the vase and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Henry adds. “We have reservations.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yup. It's for our date.”

“I thought we were just going to Tony’s party?” You look up at Bucky who is already helping Lottie into her coat.

“Well it wouldn’t be a proper date if we didn't take our girls out first now would it?”

You smile and grab something from your purse. When you stand in front of Bucky you place a red pocket square into his suit pocket. As usual he dressed in an all black suit and a more casual black t-shirt. The red added a little pop of color to tie in everyone’s outfit together.

“Here mama.” Henry, following Bucky’s lead, holds out your coat.

“Well what a little gentleman.”

You put on your coat and let them lead you and Lottie out.

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

It was still new, the four of you going out as a family. The kids were always excited going out to new places and experiencing new things. Bucky stopped the car at the entrance to the restuarant. The attendant makes his way over quickly to the driver’s side. Bucky steps out and gets the door for Lottie who was sitting behind him. Henry quickly gets out of his seat and gets out to open your door.

“Thank you my sweet boy.”

“You’re welcome, mama.” He says as he takes your hand.

The four of you walk into the building. Before you can say anything Henry steps up to the hostess stand.

“Hi ma’am.”

“Hello, how may I help you?” The young woman asks with a smile.

“We have a reservation under Barnes.”

You couldn’t help but beam as Henry started to get more comfortable interacting with strangers.

“I see the reservation for four people here. Please follow me.” The young woman walks you through the restaurant to a booth in the back. “Enjoy your evening.”

Lottie sits with Bucky and you sit with Henry. While the restaurant is full of couples you wouldn’t trade being here with the kids. You knew you’d share more than enough one on one time with Bucky later. The four of you have the time of your life at the restaurant. The kids try new foods and get loved on by you and Bucky. They also have the attention of the server that’s taking care of your table. She makes sure to ask them questions, getting the most interesting questions out of Lottie for sure. You can’t help but look across to Bucky and share that magic little moment in which you both relish in being able to enjoy this moment with them. Soon enough though dinner is over and you head back to the tower.

~~~~~~~~~

Before heading to the party Charlotte insists on going back to the apartment for her cupid getup. Soon enough there’s a four year old running into the main living room with wings and bow and arrow. Her first stop of course is her favorite person ever.

“Steebie am cupid.” She says as he picks her up.

“And a very cute cupid at that.”

“Hi.” Lottie calls out to Bruce’s assistant.

“Hello Charlotte. You look very pretty in your dress.”

“Tank you. You pwetty too, wight Steebie?” Steve goes beet red in an instant.

“Of course. Your dress is very pretty.” Steve looks at her.

“No Steebie.” Charlotte sends a small glare in his direction. Lottie says her name, “Is pwetty.”

“Please don’t.” She mutters.

“No is kay. Steebie?”

“Yes, you are very pretty.”

She opens her mouth ready to sass him back but decides against it due to Lottie’s enthusiasm.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Lottie feels as if she’s done her job so she wiggles her way out of Steve’s arm’s and does her usual round through the party.

****

Bucky holds you close as he leads you in a dance. One hand around your waist, the other holding yours against his chest. His cheek rests against your temple. Both of your eyes are closed as he hums along to the song.

“Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose.

When you kiss me heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose.”

You smile as Bucky continues to serenade you. The song ends but another quickly starts up. Your dancing is interrupted though.

“Daddy, mama is my valentine. I should be dancing with her.” Henry looks up at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ok, ok. Do you happen to know where your sister is?”

Henry points to the other end of the room. You and Bucky look over to find Charlotte sitting on the bar sharing a cupcake with Sam and laughing.

“I guess I’ll go get my valentine. Thanks for the dance, Sugar.” Bucky gives you a quick kiss.

“Wanna dance mama?”

“I would love to.” You say as Henry takes your hands and swaying side to side.

****

“Is so yummy Sammy.” Lottie holds up a cupcake with red frosting up for Sam to try.

Sam narrows his eyes in her direction causing Lottie to giggle. “Are you trying to play a joke on me?”

“Noooooo. Habe some.”

“Ok.” Sam leans in to take a bite out of the sweet treat but Lottie boops him in the nose with it leaving frosting behind. She throws her head back laughing while Sam playfully grumbles.

“Is so funny.”

“Oh you think that's funny?” Sam asks and Lottie nods. “What if I do this?” He takes a big bite of the cupcake she had in her hand. “No cupcake for you.”

Charlotte is a giggling mess as she grabs another treat from the tray Sam had taken just for them.

“Are you trying to steal my doll?” Bucky asks as he walks up to them.

“Maybe I am.”

“Habe one dada?” Lottie holds up another cupcake for him. He’d seen what she did to Sam and was sure she’d do the same to him. But the laughter was worth a little bit of red frosting on his nose.

“I would love one.”

Lottie pulls at the cupcake liner with heart designs on them, then offers it up to Bucky. He’s surprised when Lottie doesn’t try to get the frosting on him so he just eats it.

“Hey,” Sam says with a faux annoyed expression. “Why didn’t you get him?”

“Dada my vawentine.” She looks up at her dad with so much love that it makes him weak in the knees.

“Yeah Sam, I’m her Valentine’s go get your own.” He looks back at his little girl. “Wanna dance, Doll?”

“Yes, pwease.”

Lottie gives Sam a kiss on the cheek before going into her father’s arms. Bucky walks over to the dance floor and begins to sway. Not too far from him, you stand with Henry in your own dance. You catch each other’s eye and smile. He mouths an I love you which you return.

All in all it was a very good Valentine’s Day.

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months

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The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

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Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , -

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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rookthorne · 8 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞

A house of cards only needed the slightest touch to fall to pieces, to crumble to the floor in a heap. It turned out, as the Queen, you only needed that same nudge.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, heavy angst, implied bike wreck, fainting

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ I missed snapping my glow stick.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ✰ Day Is Gone by Noah Gunderson, The Forest Rangers ✰ You Are My Sunshine by Jamey Johnson, Twiggy Ramirez, Shooter Jennings

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ✰ @allcapsbingo 𝗡𝟱 — Falling Apart — Masterlist ✰ @anyfandomaubingo 𝗜𝟮 — Biker!Bucky Barnes — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Moments passed at an agonised pace. Your heart rabbeted against your ribs and your mind spun with worries and terror – both unparalleled in their height.

Bucky had been radio silent and missing for hours now.

He had left the clubhouse with a kiss and a “be careful,” started his Indian, and only looked back to blow you a kiss as he left the lot. You had watched the black and gold chariot carry him away down the road, the engine loud and you had prayed, hoped, that he would be safe.

Another charter, a club whose President he was close with, was meant to meet him on the way there to ride with him, and they would have taken him to the meeting point for the deal, overseeing the entirety of the proceedings and reporting back as Bucky rode home – eager to be back in your arms again.

That had not happened.

Steve was on the edge of his seat, phone to his ear and his voice a low rumble as he rang and spoke to many of their contacts – the search for his President seeming pointless as no one had heard from him, nor seen him, for the duration of his unexplained absence.

Sweat beaded down your temple and neck while your heart hammered. Anxiety swirled and soured your stomach – the very thought of him lying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere did not help the flighty mindset that you had unwillingly adopted.

The endless possibilities of what could have happened to him grew infinitely long, so long that it could have wrapped around the world twice and made a bow – a bow of fear, laced with the nauseated worry of a Queen whose King made deals with the devil for his mortality on a daily basis.

Bucky was a man of courage and strength; he knew how to hold his own and he was a devil of his own making. The only problem was that he was not immortal, no matter how he acted, or believed. A mere mortal of a man that had shaped himself into the Hades of the underworld, the underbelly of an empiric and tyrannical life that was of a President.

You were well versed in this fear, of the possibility for deals to go south, hospitalisations, and the like, but for such radio silence and period of seemingly becoming a ghost…

“Where could he have gone?” you whispered, wringing your hands.

“He’ll show up, Sweets,” Peter replied, a wary smile on his thin lips. “He couldn’t have gotten far. Boss can handle himself, yeah?”

They were empty words – as much of a reassurance to the young man as they were preaching a wish you had harped on for every moment of the past few hours.

A loud rumble sounded down the road from the lot, and you flew to your feet, clicking your fingers at Steve. “I have to go,” he said, hanging up his call abruptly. “Is that–?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed, staring out the window that had the best view into the parking lot. “I hope it is.”

Steve got up and pulled out his handgun before he jogged to the door. “Stay here,” he ordered, and he opened it before stepping out into the afternoon air with his shoulders squared to fend off an intruder, when he suddenly yelled, “Sweets, it’s him!”

The black and gold Indian appeared in the lot, Bucky astride it as it purred to a stop and the engine cut out as he backed it into place. While pristine when Bucky left the lot this morning, the bike was scuffed and beaten up – a mirror was missing and the headlight was shattered, and that was all of what you could see.

Your heart hadn’t seemed to comprehend the visual of Bucky there, though. Blinking rapidly to clear the black spots in your vision, you rushed around the bar and stood in the entryway of the clubhouse – waiting on bated breath for Bucky to appear.

You could hear Bucky and Steve’s voices interchangeably over the pounding in your ears, and just as Steve appeared, Bucky right behind him, you exhaled a shocked breath, blinked, and the world went black.

“She’s comin’ round,” a voice said. It was muffled and warbled, like they were underwater. “Go get some water.”

Footsteps retreated and then came back a few seconds later. “Yeah, she’s comin’ back to us.”

Your eyelids fluttered as you opened them, and you blinked the blurriness away. “Wha’ happen–?”

Bucky looked down at you, and you could feel one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on your stomach. “Well, hey there, doll,” he said softly. “I walked in the door and you just… Fainted. You get that excited to see me?”

You blinked again and took him in – blood covered the corner of his mouth, evidently from the split on his lower lip. There was a gash on his forehead, and his hair was a bird's nest of tangles. “What happened to you?”

“Laid my bike down on the way back. I limped my ass in here to hold my girl only for you to pass out on me.” Bucky raised a brow at you, his expression analytical. “You feelin’ alright, baby?”

Slowly, you sat up from Bucky’s lap to see Steve and Peter watching you nervously. You turned to Bucky, taking him in again. “Am I alright?” For a fleeting second, Bucky looked nervous. “Am I alright?” you repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah, you kinda jus’ crumpled in front of us, Sweets,” Bucky rushed, but the fear that had held you in its clutches surged into an uncontrollable anger.

“Am I alright? You are asking me if I am alright when you couldn’t even pick up the fucking phone and call me to tell me you were alive, James!” The world swam as you got to your feet and Bucky scrambled to stand up, to hold you steady, but the rush of anger fuelled you into remaining upright.

“Sweets, calm down,” Steve interceded, hands raised.

You snarled at him and turned back to Bucky. “I- We were sitting here, out of our minds with worry, and you just showed up acting like nothing was wrong? Look at your face, Bucky! Look at it!”

Bucky sighed and sat down on a barstool heavily. “Yes, I look like shit. And I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on laying down my damn bike or breaking my fuckin’ phone.” He took out a black brick that would have resembled his phone at some point in time, but now, it was a crushed, splintered mess that was held together by shredded plastic. “I’m sorry, baby, alright?”

The anger that surged through you abated to a flickering flame – Bucky wasn’t lying, the evidence was plain as day, right in front of you.

“You- You didn’t…” Mouth dry, you struggled to swallow and continue. “I was terrified that I lost you. After all we have been through.” You gestured weakly around the clubhouse, to the wooden Church doors and out to the car lot – until you finally met his stare, his eyes drowning in pensive fear. “I thought I lost you.”

The look that Bucky shot Steve and Peter spoke volumes, and the way the two men hastened to leave the clubhouse made you feel suddenly foolish. You’d overreacted, you were sure of it–

“Baby,” Bucky said, and he was walking towards you. “Look at me.”

You met his gaze as he stood right in front of you, and you didn’t shy away as he rested his forehead on yours. “I am so sorry, baby. I am. I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear it.” His hands held your hips and he pulled you to his chest. “Please, I didn’t-”

“You’re here,” you cut in softly, tears in your eyes and you kissed his lips. “You’re back here in my arms, and that’s all I want. I’m sorry I yelled at you–I was so scared.”

Bucky kissed you, his lips slotted perfectly against yours, and you sighed through your nose, holding him tighter against you as you looped your arms around his neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes angst #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

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alienejj · 3 months

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thrifted bookish finds 12/feb/24

I took these pictures myself. Some of these books are old, some were just poorly handled over the years, and all were thrifted across the second-hand stores of Dublin.

I had the cutest and most romantic haul today. Whoever ordered two hardcover classic books from America (there's no Barnes & Nobles in Ireland), paid for shipping and their costs and then donated them to the charity shop, you are crazy and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was a treat to find them there, I got them for fifty cents a book. I got 'A Room with a View' by E. M. Forster and 'Little Women' by Louisa May Alcott.

I then found a heart-shaped pink candle and a whole load of cards. Tomorrow, I plan to go back and buy the rest of those cards. They have the most wonderful and romantic art on them. I'm so glad I got them, I wasn't going to at first because I had never bought cards for myself, (I'm not used to treating myself, books don't count because those are a necessity of life for me as taught by my mother) but at the last second I picked them up and I'm so glad I did.

Funny thing is, they were being sold cheaply and were flimsily wrapped in cellophane to keep them together. But when I turned them around I found that they all came from The National Gallery of Ireland, a gorgeous art gallery, and I know they would've cost a whole lot per one. But I'm not going to complain, I'll just be very grateful.

I reblog bookish content and since I have a home library I also make some of it myself. On my blog, you'll find pictures of books I've taken, book reviews, book recs, favourite quotes shared etc. Consult the pinned masterlist to navigate your way xx

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youre-amazing-say-it · 1 year

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Night Sky

\Pairing: Steve Rogers x teen!reader, Bucky Barnes x teen!reader

Warning: hints of depression, anxiety, not being able to sleep, fear of the future, life going too good and knowing it might crash on you fear

A/N: Self-indulgent fic, going to write two fics tomorrow. just going through something right now.

You couldn't describe what you were feeling.

Righ now, you were sitting on the window sill, looking at the night sky in the Avengers Compound. This was your favorite spot in the whole world. Your feet were hanging out of the building, and it had enough room for more people to join. It made you feel free.

You should be asleep, but you spent all day sleeping, not really wanting to do anything else. So now it was 3am, and you were wide awake.

As you sat quietly, you heard the elevator ding behind and you heard the pair of combat boots walking behind you. “I’ll work on the mission report tomorrow, just tired and want to head to bed.” You heard Steve say as the second voice responded. “I feel you man, happy to be home,” Bucky spoke. as he was about to turn down his hallway, he noticed you sitting and tapped on Steve’s shoulder. “hey,” he quietly whispered as his head moved in your direction. Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he realized it was you that was up. The two men had a silent conversation with their eyes before sighing and walking towards you.

“Hey Y/n, you okay?” Steve spoke as you heard them get closer. You turned your head to face the two soldiers. “I'm fine, just enjoying the night sky,” you spoke with a slight smile. “Scoot over,” Bucky said with a smile. You obliged as they got situated on either side of you.

“How was the mission?” you asked looking at steve. He ran his hand over his face and he let out a breath. “Tiring, but it went well. No casualties,” he spoke. “That’s good,” you replied. Bucky was focusing on your face, trying to read what you were thinking and going through. but he couldn’t tell. “what's going through your mind, doll?”

“Nothing,” you whispered. Steve looked at you confused, “nothing?” he asked. “Yeah, absolutely nothing.” you sighed as you pushed some hair back. “And it’s kinda scary,” you said, “I feel.. peaceful. And I don't want it to go away.”

“Well,” Bucky started to speak, “what makes you think it will go away? Maybe everything is finally going right for you, and you deserve that,” he commented. “This feeling of ‘peace’ is what I was feeling before everything changed for me,” you explained. “I went through months of severe depression and anxiety, I felt everyone I love start to move away from me. Not to mention getting a whole new group of people to learn about and powers. And it was so,” you shared with them as you felt the tears well up in your eyes, “so hard to go through.”

“We know kid, And we are proud of you,” Steve chimed in as we wrapped his arm around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “You were dealt a bad set of cards, but you pushed through and came out stronger than ever.” Steve and Bucky were proud of how far you have come since moving in. They were there to help you through the rough depression patches and really supported you.

“But what if,” you mumble, “what if it gets bad again. What if everything comes crashing down and I lose this peaceful feeling that I have been looking for. I can’t go through that again,” you rambled out. The men exchanged glances before Steve nodded to Bucky, who lead the conversation.

“You can’t control the future kid. You can do whatever you can to help shape it, but you can’t lock it in place. Trust me, we can definitely attest to that.” Bucky chuckled as he motioned to Steve. “But you can be prepared. You can get a good base to fall back on if you need it.” You nodded towards Bucky, “okay,” you whispered. “Will you guys be there for me?”

Steve kissed the top of your head. “Every step of the way,” he said as you shifted more into his side. You took your free hand and intertwined it with Bucky’s metal hand as you all looked at the night sky.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader comfort #bucky barnes x teen!reader #bucky barnes x sister!reader #bucky barnes x daughter #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x sister!reader #steve rogers x daughter!reader #stucky x teen!reader

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sardonic-the-writer · 5 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in between their friends voicemails, and a spanish teachers punishment, troy and abed are struggling to tell you something important. or; a reader insert of season one episode sixteen

↳ warnings: period accurate jokes, internalized homophobia, jeff being weird, and alcohol

↳ notes: abed and troy are in a relationship change my mind

↳ song: me and your mama—childish gambino

masterlist | commisions | carrd

It was early morning, just before first period Spanish, when you finally decided to say something.

“Okay, so I can’t be the only one creeped out by that thing, right?”

You looked around with a sense of judgement as six pairs of eyes immediately whipped around to meet your own. Taking a moment to observe the flower in Annie's hand, and the box of chocolates in Shirley's, you stopped biting at the end of your pen momentarily to gesture at said thing; which just so happened to be your school's mascot.

It was Valentine's day at Greendale community college. Something that, in between your day to day classes and usual group shenanigans, you had forgotten about. If the seven couples french kissing hadn’t reminded you of that enough on your way to the library, the pair of heart shaped boxers draped over the statue outside did.

You had sat down at the study group as usual, expecting Britta’s rant about the patriarchal undertones of the holiday and a well timed meta quip from Abed, but instead all you got was a pair of artificially painted eyes staring at you.

The mascot in question turned to you and made what sounded like an offended gasp as it stopped wheeling its little cart full of gifts. Cards covered in pink hearts and lacey trim overflowed from it, all attached with tacky glue, and you got a good look at one of them as it was sent flying near your forehead.

“Jeez! Sorry, man! I didn’t know this job meant that much to you!” You swiftly ducked under the table to avoid the line of fire. Coming up once the sound of squeaky wheels on carpet faded away, you ended up glowering as Troy laughed at you.

“Shut up, Barnes. Abed got more muffins than you.” You glared, referencing the lack of valentines gifts he'd been given. Troy was quick to choke on his laughter after that. He straightened his posture consciously, only stealing a look or two at the goodie basket placed neatly in front of Abed.

“Great dodge.” The amateur filmmaker praised you in his usual quick pace as you picked up the card from the floor. “If you had been in the Matrix, and that card was a bullet, that would have been the second coolest scene in the movie. Next to the other part where Neo also evades bullets.”

“Neo’s? I have a few friends that are those.”

“Ignoring Pierce's questionable life choices and their daily allotted hazing— ” Jeff sighed from his usual spot next to you, “— I have more important things to discuss. And speaking of which!”

Jeff slouched further into his chair as the door to the study room opened once more. You all watched as an extremely hungover Britta stumbled in, a pair of reflective aviators resting on the brim of her nose.

“Sorry I’m late.” She grumbled. Going to sit down she nearly fell out of the chair, and all of you exchanged various looks. If the way Jeff was smirking at Britta said anything, there was some new weird sexually charged adventure to be had between the two, and you were not ready to be in another one of those. You had done your time last week, and you weren't eager to repeat it.

"Actually, you're very late, Britta. See you later!" You slammed your Spanish textbook down on the table with an overly cheesy smile to punctuate the end of your sentence. Britta jumped at the loud noise, hissing at you to shut up, but you were already walking out of the room by then. If the shuffling behind you told you anything, it was that the rest of the group had done the same. Sans Britta and Jeff, per usual.

You tilted your body sideways as you navigated through the busy hall full of various highschool dropouts and divorced parents, letting the sound of tennis shoes squeaking against the floors bounce around in your head. It was more annoying than usual today, and it took you a second to realize that it wasn't the shoes making the noise, but rather Troy as he called after you.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!" He wheezed. "You are very fast when you want to be!” The athlete gasped for breath when you finally slowed down. Coming to a stop as you turned around to face him, you saw another pair of legs enter your line of sight. This time much thinner, and accompanied with a wicker basket full of various baked goodies.

“Troy, I know you like to have someone hold your hand as you walk to class, but normally that's Abed’s job. Please don't allow me to take that pleasure from him.” You said, face completely blank. If you looked hard enough, you thought Abed’s nose flared a bit to insinuate a laugh.

“No, that’s not what I'm here to— hey how did you know that?” Troy took another gulp of air as his brows furrowed.

“I took a guess based on the way both your bodies and hands are angled apart each morning as you walk into Senior Chang’s class. Also, when you eat Cheetos, it rubs off onto the back of Abed's palm.”

“I don't eat Cheetos that much.” Troy frowned. “Do I? For the record I am not gay." Troy made sure to ennunciate that last part as he stared you down. His facial expression reminded you of a nervous first grader doing a bad job in their school play.

“You do, and that's not important right now.” Abed answered back. His head snapped to you with the same amount of intensity that he always got when thinking of a movie reference, and you got the sense he was holding back for the sake of the conversation.

Raising both eyebrows, you motioned for them to go on. The hallway was clearing out a bit more, and you didn't want to be caught late for Changs class a third time in a row. Last time he threatened to beat you with maracas, and you wouldn't put it past him to actually carry through with it this time.

“Listen, we have something important to say.” Troy began. Abed backed him up with a furious nod, or his equivalent of it. Which really just boiled down to a regular paced nod.

"Is this about Valentine's day? You should ask Shirley about that."

"Come on man!" Troy threw his hands in the air, turning away from the both of you and crossing his arms. "How did you possibly come to that conclusion so fast?!"

"We were just talking about us holding hands."

"Thank you Abed." The both of you said at the same time. Albeit Troy with a little more teeth grinding then nessicary.

"Did you become a ninja overnight? Did you take a ninja class?" Troy took a step forward as he pointed his forefinger in your face. You stared at it as it approached, going cross-eyed momentarily.

"Yes. And if you did, I would like the name to that class." Abed pipped up.

"No, I didn't go to a ninja class." You said while pushing Troy's arm down. "Does this mean I'm right?"

The lack of response from Troy and Abed's unbothered expression provided you with your answer.

"Are you two trying to ask for dating advice or something?" You frowned as you started to walk in the direction of Spanish. Both of them followed as you fixed your backpack strap. "Because if so, Troy you could learn a lot from Abed. And Abed, if you're having a problem, I don't know how to make you anymore appealing to the ladies than you already are."

"It's true." He responded, looking off into what he probably thought was the fourth wall. "I am devilishly irresistible."

"Stop that!" Troy waved his hand in front of his friends face, bringing both their attentions back to you. "Listen. We were wondering how to go about asking the same person to the dance tonight."

"Oh. So like a love triangle thing? I never liked that troupe."

"No no." Troy shut his eyes as he shook his head. "More of like, uh—"

"Neither of us exactly know." Abed cut Troy off in a matter of fact manor. "We both see ourselves hanging out with them at the dance, but aren't exactly jealous of the other being there too."

"If you wanted me to I could crack open Websters dictionary to find a word for that."

"No thank you." Abed echoed. You simply shrugged.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?" You questioned while turning a corner to another hallway. The three of you were nearly at Spanish now, but this conversation had pulled you in more than conjugating verbs ever could.

"We don't. Exactly know how to ask this person to go to the dance." Troy sucked in a breath.

"You guys have seen plenty of movies. Do the typical thing. Flowers, chocolate, and not what they do in your sci-fi movies Abed." You grinned at him knowingly as you passed through the doorway to class. "Personally I'd take kickpunching robots over literally anything ever, but I tend to be the exception for most things."

"It's not a date though. It's, like, three really close people hanging out. Not in a gay way though! I like girls! With boobs. Yes." Troy stammered as you all plopped into your rickety seats.

"Nice save Troy." Senior Chang called from the front of class with a snicker. He brought his feet down off his teachers desk to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth. "Or should I call you gay-lord!"

"I really hate this language requirement." Troy grumbled, sinking into his chair. You snorted as Abed stiffly reached his hand out to pat his shoulder, making robot sounds as he did so.

"Cheer up." You allowed yourself a shit eating grin. "It is Valentine's day after all."

“Well that was a disaster.” You said over the sound of a ringing bell. Students and teachers alike passed you and Annie by as the two of you made your way through the hall, neither of them seeming to care very much if they bumped into you or not. To say that’d you’d almost gotten into a fight or two due to traffic here would be an understatement.

“I don’t know.” Annie frowned. She brushed her hair out of her face and clutched her books to the front of her chest. You made a face subconsciously, the sight reminding you all too much of the stereotypical school girl. “I thought it was very mean of Senior Chang to do that to Troy! And Pierce, I guess.”

“Annie. He called a balding senior citizen and a lonely freshman out on their sad Valentine’s Day gifts to themselves. It’s Chang. Of course it’s mean. But mean things can also be also be disasters.”

The girl next to you seemed to think about your words for a second. Furrowing her brows once or twice, she eventually let out what you could only describe as a harumph.

“Well I think we should do something about it!”

“Pass.” You said without a seconds hesitation. Annie deflated a bit at that and eyed the tips of her shoes. You stole a look down at her, and let out a sigh.

“You know me. I’m such a big fan of sticking my nose in other peoples business when it doesn’t belong— “ Sarcasm. “— but I think you and Shirley would be a better duo for this. She’s ruthless when she sets her mind to it, and you’re crafty in the way that you could have written the script for the movie Seven if you wanted to. Probably.”

“Aww thanks! I think.” Annie beamed. She regained some pep in her step as she skipped ahead of you, only turning back to say one more thing to you. “No wonder Troy and Abed like to talk about you so much. So many obscure movie references between you guys. Cute!”

“Seven was a box office hit, Annie— “ You began with the hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but she was already off. No doubt to find Shirley before lunch so they could cook up their plan in a flurry of giggles. That only left you with one more question.

“They talk about me?”

Jeff huffed as he walked into the near empty classroom. His hands, which he had spent the last three minutes nervously slathering in expensive lotion as a part of his mid-day exfoliation routine, were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this interaction, but sometimes he’d throw his better judgment out the window. Sometimes.

Raising a single eyebrow, he glanced around at the spare video equipment set up; the bulk of which was sat right in front of his target. The former lawyer ignored as a kid in a yellow button up kicked a trash can across the room, instead making a beeline for Abed. Who was giving directions rather loudly to the angry kid.

“Wow. Do you normally deal with divas like this?” Jeff flashed his signature charming smile while commenting on the temper tantrum. Better to be friendly and break the ice rather than dive right in. Otherwise you’d scare people off. He learned that while working at the firm.

“One Papa Johns commercial, and he thinks he’s Christian Bale.” Abed pursed his lips comically.

“Look, uh— “ Jeff began to steer away from the topic of the questionable kid as he pulls Abed’s attention in. “You were right earlier. During Spanish. Britta is being weird around me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“By being right, do you mean my prediction that the accidental booty call she sent you while drunk is going to cause the imminent breakup of our fragile group?”

Jeff blinked.

“Yeah. That.” He spat out.

“Nice. So what can I do for you?” Abed leaned back into his makeshift directors chair while crossing his legs. “Do you need a drunk voicemail of your own to send to her so the score will be evened? Because I have nowhere to be for the next twenty four hours and personal dilema to avoid.”

Jeff inhaled with the intent to bulldoze over the younger mans statement, but ended up falling flat.

“Ignoring that last part, yeah I do, actually. How did you know that?” He squinted. Jeff would never admit it, but sometimes it creeped him out how easily Abed could predict what people would say next.

“Classic sitcom staple.” Abed shrugged without changing his expression one bit. “Goes hand in hand with the booty call. Now— “ He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. One that Jeff didn’t quite like.

“How well can you act?”

You don’t know how you ended up here, and you had been ready to leave the moment you arrived.

A faint punch stain from years ago sat at the hem off of your slacks, reminiscent of a house party from a year ago that had ended in disarray. They were the good slacks too. Paired with what was thankfully an unstained button up polo shirt. This was the closest anyone was going get to fancy from you tonight.

Various pink and red hues cascaded across the dance floor, playing into the Valentine’s Day theme as the schools mascot continued to prowl around on the dance floor. You were sure that the dean would be happy with himself over that if it wasn’t for the fact that couples were making out everywhere. It was pretty fun watching him try to break them all up, actually. You’d made a little game out of it with how long you’d been standing at the punch table.

The toe of your shoe came in contact with a stray balloon from one of the tables centerpieces. With a downward twitch of your lips, you picked the rubbery material up into your hands and started messing with it. Sounds of latex on skin distracted you from all of the screeching and poor singing.

“Not having a lot of fun, huh?” A voice from your left asked.

Glancing near the onion rings that had been laid out as finger food, you saw the familiar form Britta peering at you from under some fake eyelashes. That would have been more of a shock to you if the skimpy red dress she was wearing didn’t overshadow it.

“Hey there.” You avoided her question as you threw the balloon back into the crowd it had come from. “Great disco ball costume. Very sparkly.”

“Ha ha.” She mocked you before crossing your arms. “For the record, I still think Valentine’s Day is a sham. I’m just doing this to see Jeff squirm.”

“Ah. Well then, I’m sure all of the women out there will forgive you for your transgressions.” You teased her with an empty smile.

Britta let out a cross between a laugh and a huff, gaze straying from you to look out at the mass you launched your balloon into. Occasionally someone in unusually high heels would fall, only to be swept back up into the bobbing heads.

“Have you talked to Troy lately?” Britta cut in suddenly. The tone of her voice made you narrow your eyes, and you hummed out a suspicious no.

“That question is both too casual and well delivered on a night like this to have come from you. What’s going on.” You had fully abandoned kicking around stray balloons for talking with her. Or at least, staring at her forehead while she talked. You didn’t know if you could manage eye contact right now.

“He was looking for you earlier at lunch. While sweating. A lot.” Britta scrunched her nose up as if she could still smell the body odor. “Sounded like he wanted to ask you something.”

You looked away from her for a moment, temporarily overcome with a feeling of nausea.

“Oh, yeah. My bad. I was in the study room.” A pause. “Studying.”

“Troy said that he checked there beforehand.” It was Britta’s turn to squint at you. “Why are you the one acting weird now?”

Rubbing at the back of your neck proved as a temporary relief to her question. Inhaling through your mouth, you pulled out your phone and messed with it for a second.

“I got a weird voicemail from Abed today. The main part is him talking to me about the dance scene from Breakfast Club, I think, and some weird phone thing with Jeff and you— " Britta coughed into her hand at that “— but the last few seconds really threw me.”

You opened your mouth to continue the story, but quickly shut it once you saw that Britta wasn’t paying attention anymore. You didn’t even have to follow her line of sight to know she was staring at a dejected looking Jeff— who had been standing by the cusp of the exit for six minutes now. You didn’t even have to nod at her to go before she took off, awkwardly waddling in her stilletos in an attempt to not trip.

It only took a few more minutes of watching the two of them go back and forth for you to give up on anything exciting happening to you. With a halfhearted grumble, you took one last grab at the punch bowl before starting towards the double doors. You hoped the juice had been spiked. If you made all this effort to show up to some lame school thing, might as well get a little tipsy.

“Well this is awkward.”

A harsh cough came from your throat as you choked on your own spit. In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you turned around to glare at whoever had scared you, only to start coughing more.

“Abed?” You wheezed. Letting out another round of coughs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the sunglasses on his face.

“I came as fast as I could when I realized Troy was stuck as Senior Changs whore for the night.” He looked at you calmly as you continued to die a little right in front of him.

Finally taking one more gulp of punch from the table, you calmed down enough to string together a sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me explain for any in the audience that might have missed it while in the bathroom.” Abed held up a finger. All you could do was deadpan weakly at him.

“Both Troy and I approached you a little bit ago saying that we had something important to say to you. He worded it wrong. We were supposed to ask you something, not tell you. Instead, Troy allowed Senior Chang’s torture to ruin that question, and later I with Jeff and Britta’s voicemail problems”

“Their what’s? What is going on with voicemails today.”

“Not important.” Abed carried on. “What’s important is that while I was fulfilling the spot of Jeff’s drinking buddy, I realized something.”

“That you shouldn’t be drinking??” You questioned wildly. It was beginning to feel like this night was a special episode in a really bad main cable show. Either that or this place was finally getting to you.

“No. I realized that while Troy was fitting himself and Pierce into extra tight women’s suits, that we would miss the opportunity to ask you what we wanted to. I called Troy to tell him to go look for you, but only after sending a call to you that I do not remember the contents of. I assume you have it?” He blinked owlishly.

With a pair of very wide and very confused eyes, you grabbed your phone for the second time that night and shook it with a loose wrist. The audio from a few hours ago began to play faintly. It’s sound was swallowed by the bass of the dances music, but the both of you could still make the words out. Abed’s voice tumbled out at twice the speed it normally does, his energy no doubt heightened by alcohol.

“— e’re sort of like Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker, but there’s three of us. Have you seen the second movie? I need to show you the second movie. There’s more of Jennifer in that than the first. And Martys mom isn’t trying to get with him. Oh, and you don’t have to have a time traveling car for us to want to go to the dance with you. Although that would be nice. Jeff stop drooling on tha —"

Abed looked at it silently as the message continued to run. It was as if he expected nothing more from its contents. For a second you wondered how he’d react to the twenty minutes before that where all he talks about is Breakfast Club, but you figured it would be the same.

The feeling of nausea from earlier was back, and this time was trying to crawl out of your throat with a ferocity. Swallowing both your nerves and that not so metaphorical metaphor, you inhaled.

“So. Troy’s okay with this?” You asked cautiously, as if this was a dubious prank. Abed nodded almost immediately after you asked. The nausea subsided.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You shuffled. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off your chest, and you didn't know how to express that. “I’ll go to the dance. With the both of you.”

A brief period of silence stretched between the two of you. The lights continued to flair, and the music continued to shake the floorboards, but none of you moved.

“Abed?”

“Sorry. You made me so happy I peed a little, and didn’t want to say anything.”

The corner of your mouth lifted up once. Twice. It only took one more time for a tirade of laughter to escape you all in one go. Abed’s unmoving expression just watched as you laughed to yourself, waiting patiently until you had stopped. When you paused to catch your breath, Abed placed a hand on your shoulder and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Normally this doesn’t happen in shows.” He hummed. “Do you think that this is a way of adding some diversity in the form of a polyamorous couple at a community college?”

“How about no lables?” You suggested. “It feels weird. What if it was just me, you, and Troy for now.”

Abed repeated your words under his breath, mumbling a little. He lifted his head back up to you with his thought on the proposition, which arrived in the form of a steady thumbs up.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” You grinned at him. Abed’s nose flared at your use of his unspoken catchphrase, and he turned away from you to cup his hands around his mouth.

"They said yes!" He told the figure dancing on the floor; the likes of which responded with a yell of victory before getting back to it. It took you a minute to get past the skintight blue suit and floral scarf to realize who it was.

"Troy?!" You sputtered with an open mouth. He looked at you at the mention of his name with a painful smile before turning back to his dance partner with a dramatic sob.

"What is he wearing? And why is Senior Chang— oh god." Your eyes widened, unable to look away. "I think I'm going to puke."

"It's better if you don't question it." Abed told you, his hand just a few inches shy of touching his eyes as he hid behind it.

"Give me your hand Abed." You said blankly. Without questioning you, he held it out. You were quick to sheild your own eyes from the dancing.

"So." You turned your head to look at him after a moment of gross silence, both of his hands still in the air. "Movie date tonight when Troy is released from captivity?"

"I've been waiting forever for you to ask that."

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sparkagrace · 1 year

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seize the clay | @sparkagrace steve x bucky | t | 1.1k words

tags: pre-serum Steve, beefy Bucky, pottery, tiktok, modern au, social media fills: @allcapsbingo | card AC1006 | march adoptable: social media

Steve has a tiktok series called Steve Skills Up where he duets with other creators and tries to learn new skills. One day he finds himself tagged in someone's video asking him to duet with a new viral creator. Bucky Barnes is a potter who posts videos of him making various bowls and cups. Oh, and he does this shirtless...

Steve didn’t intend to become a content creator. He was just bored and downloaded tikok after Clint kept sending him videos of dogs being reunited with their owners and cats becoming friends with ducks. The intention was to only use the godforsaken app whenever he was sent a video, but then the thing got interesting and he was being shown videos of dubious cleaning hacks (it did force him to do some of the deep cleaning he’d been putting off forever), cooking inspiration (he was able to impress his friends at the last potluck with his sugar cookies), and a few prank videos that was absolutely 100% scripted (but he still watched every single one).

All this is to say, somehow he started scrolling and ended up on various art pages, which were actually interesting and gave him a lot of inspiration to pick up his sketchpads and paints again. He started off slowly: filmed timelapses of his painting, showed how he went from sketch to canvas, talked a little bit about why he prefers oil painting to watercolors. All of that was fun and he had a very small following.

Until he decided he wanted to learn more art mediums and styles because thinking about what to paint was hard and sometimes he just wasn’t feeling it. So then he started a series called Steve Skills Up, where he dueted with other creators and tried to replicate what they were doing: knitting, cross-stitching, sculpture, splatter painting (that one was messy but fun). Usually doing it wrong but eventually working it out. That series started to get popular and then he started getting people tagging him in videos and begging him to ‘Skill Up’. It’s fun, but it’s hard work. He finds that some of it is frustrating and there are just some days he doesn’t feel like getting in front of a camera, especially when his asthma acts up or after a full day of working. Unfortunately his online fame hasn’t meant that he can give up his day job.

One day he wakes up to hundreds of mentions. He sleepily looks at his phone to find out what people want him to do now. It’s a video that has racked up almost a million views and the username is @BuckysBowls. The guy in the video is sitting in front of a kiln in between his legs – shirtless – and there’s Ginuwine’s Pony playing in the background. The guy on screen is extremely hot: practically all abs and toned biceps. He definitely knows what he’s doing when he oh so innocently drops the mound of clay into the wheel, wets his hands and begins manhandling it; the slapping sounds sending something strange down Steve’s spine. Steve cannot stop watching. He’s completely entranced by the way the wheel spins so quickly yet this guy – Bucky – is able to keep such control over the clay, seemingly allowing it to do what it wants but also bending to his will.

Bucky’s hands wrap around the clay as it moulds to whatever shape he needs it to, presses his fingers gently but steadily through the wet body as it continuously spins and forming a hole that gradually widens evenly. Both his hands remain steady and covered with clay as he draws up gently to lengthen the sides. And as he does, he shoots looks to the camera, smirks and gets back to work. Sometimes his face can’t even be seen, and Steve wants to reach into the screen to lift up his chin so he can look into his eyes. Steve thinks he might be drooling. The work is so precise and yet Bucky seems to be doing it so casually, as if he woke up that morning and was like “sure, I’ll make a bowl”. He may well have because Bucky’s hair is rumpled and there’s little bits of clay in it from where he’s pushed back his hair. Even from the phone, Steve can see where parts of his bare skin have specks of clay water as he works.

He has to watch the same video four times at least because he finds himself too distracted and missing parts of the bowl progress by getting too caught up with Bucky’s eyes and general being. Then he scrolls and watches video after video of Bucky making cups and vases and jugs and even more bowls. Every single time that his fingers press into the clay, Steve thinks he's going to pass out. Steve clicks through to his profile and sees the address to his store in Brooklyn – Seize The Clay – just twenty minutes away from Steve's apartment. This got much harder.

Despite him spending at least two hours lying in bed and watching Bucky’s tiktoks, he doesn’t respond to any of the requests aside from liking a couple. Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get the materials for this first of all because he knows it’s expensive to get kilns and he lives in a small apartment. He has no idea where he’d even put one unless he found a pottery place that would let him film in there. Not only that, he has no idea how he’s supposed to even follow along without blushing because Steve is already unable to look at Bucky directly on a recording. He just doesn’t know where to start so he just presses 'follow' and puts a pin in it.

Over the next few days, the tags keep coming and his algorithm shows him Bucky's videos constantly. People are desperate for Steve to replicate what they’re seeing Bucky do. People even want him to do it shirtless, which is it’s own set of problems with the prominent scar down his torso from heart surgery as a kid. Besides, in a duet next to Bucky, Steve is going to look even weedier. Urgh.

BuckysBowls: hey! i keep seeing ur name tagged in my comments so i checked out ur videos. they’re pretty cool! SteveGR: thnx. i’m sorry about the comments. i really like your videos too. so impressive

They go back and forth, talking about creating content, their backgrounds, Brooklyn, how weird it is to go viral.

And then...

BuckysBowls: so when are you gonna duet a vid? no pressure but i assume it’s on the list? SteveGR: uhhh maybe a bit too skilled rn. beyond my wheelhouse haha BuckysBowls: if u need any help getting started lmk SteveGR: well, unless u know how i can get a kiln into my apartment… BuckysBowls: come to the store? SteveGR: i work fulltime and i don’t get many pto days BuckysBowls: steve quit making excuses. i’ve seen your art and ur series. i know u can do this. give the people what they want! 💪 SteveGR: i wouldn’t even know where to start 🙈 BuckysBowls: i give private lessons after hours. the first one is always free…

After that, Steve doesn’t really have a choice.

notes: this is totally inspired by the many, many, many videos of guys doing pottery shirtless that somehow found their way to my fyp. Shout out to the accounts: potteryboy, stonemeetsclay, and lowham_ceramics who were all incredible Bucky inspo ✌️

#steve x bucky #stucky fic #stucky #all caps bingo #stucky moodboard #ficlet #my fic #stucky au

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scopostims · 11 months

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victor stimboard for @cherrypeachypie :•]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard of 9 GIFs.

GIF 1: A light-skinned person knelt down, scooping sand with their arms into a pile, the sand they're scooping falling on a slight slope towards them.

GIF 2: A robotic hand made of a metal frame pointing it's finger, then curling into an "okay" sign.

GIF 3: A camera pan-over of connected, old west storefronts, a red one labelled "Livery Barn Cafe" and a brown one labelled "Crystal Palace Saloon".

GIF 4: A slowly spinning, red and black roulette wheel.

GIF 5 (center): Victor from "Fallout: New Vegas" standing on a floor with a flashing yellow stripe.

GIF 6: A red poker chip spinning on top of two overlapping playing cards, an ace of clubs and an ace of diamonds.

GIF 7: A moderate-brown skinned person riding a white horse that's running through a desert.

GIF 8: A silver aibo ers-220, a vaguely dog shaped robot sitting up, then laying down on the floor.

GIF 9: Three camels walking through a desert, silhouetted brown due to a dust storm.

End ID]

#scopostims original boards #stim #stimblr #stimboard #stimmy #desert #sand #robotics #aibo #horse #cowboy #victor #fallout new vegas

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worldseer · 28 days

Note

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

Oh lord, top ten of ALL media I loved? Fuckin' hell. Alright, just to cheat, I'm choosing to do this in no particular order and sticking to one media because I frankly do not have the capacity to process top favorites all at once. TOP TEN OF MARVEL COMICS/MCU IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier - Heavily relate to his issues, I've been told I look like him, and overall I love his character. Been obsessed with his character for years now, and I want nothing more than for him to be happy.

Moon Knight/Mark Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley - Steven Grant is heavily relatable to me, and Moon Knight in general has always been interesting to me. I learned about the character before the show itself, and even his design itself draws me in. I'm a sucker when his cape makes the crescent shape too.

Ghost Rider - Nonspecific simply because all the Ghost Riders I know are badasses. If I had to be a hero/have the powers of any Marvel character, I'm choosing this one. Love the idea of the character, and wish it gets a good adaptation for film/tv show soon

Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner - Gender Envy. Also heavily relate to him because of similar issues. Consistently struggle if I want to be him or be with him.

Gambit/Remy LeBeau - I love a sarcastic man with a bit of fruitiness, and a smug ass face. Also his powers are interesting as well, and he's frankly a genius for using playing cards as his usual weapon (mass produced and several on hand).

Spider-Man - Also nonspecific, since I grew up on watching Spider-Man cartoons so I love Peter Parker, but also after ATSV I've gained an interest in Miguel O'Hara as well. Peter in the comics always has my heart however, some of the lines he has in them are iconic as hell.

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto - He's a villain I can't ever hate, and probably has the second power I'd choose if I had to choose a power from a Marvel character. I too would cause mass destruction if it meant that me and people like me would stop fucking yknow- being killed and persecuted. And bro is (usually) old as fuck as he does this, still kicking ass.

Matt Murdock/Daredevil - Once again, relate due to similar issues. Also what's more funny than a sarcastic lawyer going out to beat the shit out of criminals every night? Plus it's a bit unfair that he looks hot beat up. . . iykyk.

Wade Wilson/Deadpool - Self explanatory.

Loki Laufeyson - Similar thing to Bucky and Kurt: obsessed with character for years and a part of me wants to be them. Might have kickstarted my discovery into being nonbinary honestly now that I think about it. . .

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ltbarnes · 1 year

Text

Anachronism Valentine’s Day Special

Summary: Your Bigfoot and Captain plan Valentine’s Day for the first time, cooped up into your shared home while everyone is free from work for the first time in forever. Winter delves into arts and crafts, and Steve wants to cook breakfast, but nothing really goes according to plan.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: blood, minor injury, the beginnings of smut, reader’s boys being so sweet, Bucky being the worst sous-chef, a little bit of Stucky, self-deprecation

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble! a sweet little thing for valentine’s day!! but no!!! as normally i couldn’t pace myself so here you have almost a full chapter. also, if you haven’t read the rest of the series i really recommend doing so if you find this very confusing. before i check out i order you to treat yourself tomorrow with something you love, no matter if you celebrate with loved ones or alone. happy valentine’s day <3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

The alarm clock of the morning is the stinging pain of a paper cutting into your skin, slicing across your cheek until a thin stream of blood trickles down and smears onto your pillow.

All you can do is furrow your brows in confusion while blinking your eyes open, wincing while sitting up in the bed. There's blood on your finger as you swipe it across your face. What the hell?

It doesn't take long to find the source of your wound—a messily cut paper heart falls down from your pillow as you move. You know it's Winter's solely by the uneven shape of it. Steve would never be caught slacking when it comes to anything artsy, as you have learned many times over by now. He pouted for several hours on Christmas morning when a splatter of paint had ended up on the card he had written you.

Despite your bleeding cut, you find yourself giggling. It's cheesy and a little cliché, but the thought of Winter learning (or relearning, in reality) about Valentine's Day from some stupid movie brings such joy to your heart. Maybe Steve told him about it, or Sam. You hope it's not the latter. God knows what your big bear has gotten up to in that case.

It’s not something you have talked about with your boyfriends at all. Since you’ve never made a big thing about it before them you assumed it would be the same now. It just happened to coincide with a few days off for all of you. A calm day in was the plan you had set up in your head. Maybe cook something a little nicer for dinner, but that’s all.

The floor is equally cold as the temperature outside the comforter as the soles of your feet touch the hardwood, drawing goosebumps on your skin with each brush of air against your exposed arms. As small clouds of fog form with each of your breaths, you know Steve must have turned down the heat again. Damn him and his super soldier warmth. He is the most compassionate person there is, but also annoyingly forgetful of the fact that not everyone in this house burn up during the night.

Your whole body shudders while wrapping your arms around yourself. The sweater you usually steal from Winter lies discarded on the couch in the living room, you think, much to your dismay. Instead of taking out one of your own, you pad out of your bedroom with your teeth on the verge of chattering.

Soft sounds of a vintage jazz ballad stream from the kitchen, harmonizing with the clangs of pots and pans and sizzling.

"No. No! C'mon," Steve whines. "I just showed you what to use. Buck, honestly—"

Your chuckles are barely heard in the background of the small argument as you step inside the kitchen with a smile on your face. They don't even notice you, which is so extremely rare that you barely dare to breathe. Instead Steve sighs, taking away the wooden spoon Winter holds in his hand and replaces it with a spatula.

"Stir gently. Try to stop the eggs from sticking to the pan. It's supposed to be smooth and creamy, you know, like she wants them?"

"So bossy. Bunny likes all eggs. Doesn't matter much, Stevie," Winter answers with a pout, aggressively stabbing the pan with the spatula. Steve only shakes his head in answer while throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don't know why I bother," he mumbles under his breath. "Go find the necklace we bought her instead. I'm banning you from the kitchen."

In the same second, the blonde turns around to see you leaning against the doorway. His face falls, seeing the surprise breakfast now lacks the element of surprise. You can also see the confusion in his expression, because you've never managed to sneak up on either of them.

"Goddamn it," Steve sighs. "You were supposed to be sleeping!"

Winter turns around. He seems much less upset than the man next to him—instead his eyes rake over your newly woken figure.

"Good morning to you too. And it's a little late for that by now, don't you think?" You take a few steps forward, fuzzy socks gliding over the floor, while taking in the sweet smell of food. The ruined surprise does nothing to darken your mood—your men are making you Valentine’s Day breakfast. There's nothing more you can wish for.

The lighthearted atmosphere soon turns gloomy though, and you almost forget why until Winter grunts. He blows out a quick puff of air through his nose while striding up to you in two large steps, hand laid on your shoulder while the other tilts your face upwards.

"Hurt," he states, brushing the pad of his thumb over the bleeding cut. "What happened?"

You smile, rolling your eyes. "It's just a small cut."

"What. Happened?" he demands once again.

Winter is really protective of you. He has been since the start, but sometimes he's the cause of some discomfort because of his unnatural strength. Accidents are bound to happen, like the time he accidentally elbowed you in the nose while trying to punch Steve, or when he unknowingly pushed you off the bed in his sleep. He gets so upset each time he's the reason for them, and sometimes spends days doting on you until his guilt fades away. You don't want to ruin the mood by making him feel that way on Valentine's, of all days.

"Winter," you say, raising your eyebrows like you do each time you really want him to listen to your words. "I want you to know that this is not your fault before I explain, okay? No need to blame yourself."

"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking up from the pan for just a second.

"I accidentally cut myself on the paper heart Winter left on my pillow while I was sleeping. An accident." Your hands come up to Winter's shoulders, rubbing gently over the t-shirt.

His eyes instantly close, head tilting down in shame. Fuck.

"Hey, hey. What did I just tell you?" you say. "No blaming yourself."

"So stupid," Winter mutters. "Should never have—"

"No. I loved the heart. It was really, really sweet, and I loved it. I love you." Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, honey."

He only shakes his head in answer, despite the blush creeping up on his cheeks. Honestly, that might be the sweetest man alive. Who even cuts out hearts from red paper and leaves them on their partner's pillow anymore?

While he ponders over the situation, the flush reaching his ears too, Steve stands with his arms wrapped over his chest, a content smile on his face as he watches the two of you interact. As you gain eye contact with him over Winter's shoulder, you can't help but return the smile.

"Do I get one too, huh?" Steve says, unfurling his arms to lean back onto the counter. "What is it that you say? Kiss the cook?"

"Geez, lay it off with the flirting, Rogers," you answer while stepping aside, moving towards your blonde superhuman.

Three pecks are pressed to his pink lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in by your waist with a squeak of surprise from your lips. The sweetest giggle escapes in the process, alluring enough to make him forget about the eggs he was so meticulous about just a minute ago.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my loves," you whisper, leaning into his chest while turning your head slightly to the side so you can see Winter as well. Both of them will hear you despite your whisper, no matter how quiet you are.

"Happy Valentine's Day. Now go back. This was supposed to be a breakfast-in-bed situation," Steve says playfully, pinching your side before nudging you in the direction of the doorway.

"But I'm already up," you whine. "I'm hungry. I don't want to go."

Mr. Captain America has the nerve to raise his eyebrow on you, nodding in the direction he wants you to go. He turns his back away, focuses on the overwhelming amount of food he's preparing.

A huff of protest is all that sounds from you. Enough of an answer for him, it seems, because he's already figured out you won't go back to bed voluntarily.

"Buck, take our girl back to the bedroom, will you?" Steve says without even facing the two of you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.

Instantly a look of dread falls upon your face, one of betrayal, as you turn towards Winter with a gasp. He's already smiling in mischief. Fuck this.

"No. No." You point an accusing finger his way. "Don't you dare."

Cautious steps are taken backwards while the giant stalks closer with each second, broad shoulders becoming more threatening while your neck cranes upwards to see his little smirk.

"Winter, no, no—"

His strong arms lift you up from the floor, maneuvering you over his shoulder until you're swaying upside down like so many times before. It's been a while though—Steve has this weird theory that it's unhealthy for you to be upside down as much as you were before when Winter wanted to carry you everywhere. And while it did make you overtly dizzy and slightly nauseous sometimes, you kind of miss it.

"This is kidnapping!" you yell to the best of your abilities. "Righteous Captain America, my ass! Outlaw!"

"Have fun, dear!" Steve's voice can be heard shouting from the kitchen, undoubtedly a chuckle of amusement on his lips. Fucker.

Winter's husky laughter rumbles as he walks towards the bedroom, vibrating through your body as it swings back and forth. He barely even reacts as you pinch his buttock. At least you got to touch it.

It's instantly cold when you enter the confines of your bedroom once more, so much that a full body shiver manages to wrack your limbs even while hanging over your boyfriend's shoulder.

"It's so cold, Winter," you whine. "Your poor girlfriend is going to freeze to death in here."

What you expected in answer was to be laid down on your shared bed. Instead even colder bathroom counter meets the back of your legs. Winter leaves his hands on your shoulders as you blink to rid yourself of the blur, fluttering your lashes until you can look at him clearly.

The previously playful smile has scooled itself into a concerned frown, blue eyes running over the cut along your cheek. You sigh. He can't let small things like these go.

"I am sorry. Did not mean to hurt," he says, looking into your eyes as if he's afraid you won't understand the size of his sorrow if he isn't. You open your mouth to protest once more, but he manages to interrupt before you can even form the first syllable. "No. Accept apology. No arguing."

"Of course I accept your apology. I just don't think it's necessary," you answer, lifting your hand while he leans into your palm. Thumb runs over his stubble, tracing the line of his jaw. "It wasn't even your fault. You couldn't know that a piece of paper would cut me while I was sleeping. And I'm entirely fine."

He gives you a single nod in defeat. Winter has at least partly learnt when to concede in arguments during the past year. Still stubborn as shit, but so are you. It's not fun when either of you refuse to talk to each other for hours on end because of some stupid fight.

Instead Winter reaches for the alcohol and cotton standing pushed into the corner of the counter, usually reserved for the blonde super soldier in the house for when he gets home from missions. For wounds much deeper than yours, in reality.

"Clean?" he asks, holding them up in front of you.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. Stop doing that, uh—what it’s called?" He furrows his brows. "Making things small. Always do that."

"Minimizing?" you ask.

"Minimizing. Stop doing that and let me clean. Need you to be good. Valentine's Day."

With a soft giggle you concede, leaning back against the mirror behind you. Tough argument to argue against.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"More."

Winter holds up another forkful of pasta against your mouth, trying to prod at your lips while you poorly hold in laughter.

"No. No, I'm so full," you say, pushing his hand away.

An overextended, but content, sigh sounds from your lips as you sink further down the chair, cuddling against the soft fabric of Winter's sweater. You're wearing a nice dress underneath it all, but at the end of the day these two don't care that much about what you're wearing. Comfort is always valued higher in this household.

"I think that might be the best meal I've had since ma's apple pie," Steve says, giving that same sigh while leaning back against his chair.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "That's not true, but thank you."

"So good, bunny. Always so good," Winter chimes in, fingers fiddling with your hair. Never not touching you, that one. "Kiss."

He leans forward, hand coming up to cup your cheek, puckering his lips. You can't help but laugh at him, joining in on Steve's warm chuckle, even while pressing your lips to his. Quick, affectionate pecks that radiate so much love your cheeks almost hurt from the giddy grinning.

You think you might be the luckiest woman in the world. Even if double the amount of love one normally gets is more than enough, these two men grant you five times as much. This is love enough to last three lifetimes.

“You look so beautiful,” Steve says, elbows now leaning on the table and gazing lovingly at your figure.

His eyes are focused on the necklace dangling over your collarbones, the one they went all the way to the big city to pick out. It’s a simple fir tree, a real delicate one, mostly because of the ones surrounding this house. The trees which signify the start of your relationship. And also because your love is supposed to be evergreen, but Steve barely managed to get that out through his embarrassment. You think it’s the sweetest thing ever.

“You flatter me too much,” you answer him, leaning your head on Winter’s shoulder. His right hand comes to intertwine with your left, fingers rubbing over the back of your hand.

“I could never. I know you love it.”

A more mature answer than poking your tongue out is not possible in this moment, it seems like. But Steve finds it endearing and words are soon forgotten all together as the candles flicker and silence falls upon the room. A comfortable one, safe as Winter’s hold on you and Steve’s loving gaze.

“I really love the necklace,” you whisper, fingers fiddling with the pendant. “I feel silly now for only making you guys dinner, it’s just that I didn’t think we would make a thing out of—“

Soft kisses to your neck cut off your apologetic rambling, silencing you with tongue running over your exposed skin and replacing it with a quiet moan.

Steve rises from his seat, closing the one-step gap to grasp your chin. He tilts your face upwards until you can meet his eyes, which craves you craning your neck completely. Tall bastard.

“We have talked about this, sweetheart. You remember that?” He raises an eyebrow, thumb pulling on your lower lip. All you can do is nod mindlessly as if you’re in a trance. “What you do is enough. This is already more than we can ask for. It’s not nothing. Right, Buck?”

The brunette running his lips over your skin, nuzzling into your neck, hums in agreement. Never much one for words, really. You understand the sentiment either way.

A particularly loud whine escapes your lips as Winter nibbles just underneath your ear, sending a full-body shiver through your limbs. Steve grins, running his thumb along your cheek.

“You’ve been so good to us. Think it’s time for us to repay you. ‘S only fair.”

You nod shamelessly, eyes halfway closed in pleasure. Before them, you never knew how much a tongue against your skin could bring such a reaction from you. You definitely know now.

“I want everything off, Bucky,” Steve orders. And in contrast to the beginning of your relationship, you know the demand is not only directed towards you anymore.

Fabric is discarded, thrown across the kitchen floor. The previous chill has disappeared and feverish heat instead adorn your cheeks. Lustful eyes rake over your body, yours over chiseled muscle covered by softness and metal, over the tight shirt straining against Steve’s chest.

As your hands come up to the back of your neck, clasping around the thin chain to remove the risk of hair tangling and expensive gifts being destroyed during the first night, rough fingers come to stop you.

“No,” Winter says. “Keep it.”

Your arms lower to your sides, back leaning against Winter’s chest and your breasts brushing against Steve’s clothed one. Cold metal splays across your stomach, pulling you into him as closely as humanly possible. It’s when Steve’s thumb brushes over your nipple that you concede entirely to their power.

“How did I get so goddamn lucky, huh?” Steve suddenly exclaims, interrupting the lustful silence that laid thick over the room.

And when he lifts his hand up, fingers splaying out over Winter’s cheek to pull him closer, you almost moan. Seeing their lips meet like this is still new. But if you allow yourself to predict the future, you don’t think that it’s something you will ever tire of.

“My sweet boy,” Steve says. You feel Winter shiver behind you, even as his hands steady himself on your shoulders.

Only a few seconds pass before Steve leans down to capture your lips, carrying the taste of Winter with him. His tongue soon pushes inside your mouth, slowly, giving no thought to asserting his dominance when it’s so clearly already there.

“And my sweet girl,” he whispers, muffled by your kiss.

Soft, pink lips divert from your mouth, trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbone. Hips are grabbed by two sets of hands, wrestling between each other for space. You think there is just enough space for both of them. Your body is the perfect size for their hands to trail over, for their arms to capture, for their cocks to claim.

"Steve not as good, no? I make you feel better,” Winter suddenly says, drawing a shocked chuckle from your lips. Steve does not share the same amusement.

"What did you say?" Steve raises his eyebrows, a competitive fire igniting in his eyes. But all Winter does is grin, because he knows what he just did.

He loves this—teasing, starting competitions even though he knows no one can lose and neither of them will win. The only real winner will always be you.

It shows clearly when Steve’s arms sneak under your thighs, hoisting you up into his hold with your legs wrapped around his waist. The bedroom is the new destination and Winter trails after with that smug smirk of his adorning his wonderful face.

You are perfect for your two sweet boys. Two needy ones, competitive, and sometimes on the verge of demanding. This day is a lot like every other. It seems like your men don’t really need a special day to show you how special you are.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

TAG: @cjand10 @enchantedbarnes @imyourbratzdoll @mattmurdussydestroya @wintasssoldier @inlovewithchrisevans

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #anachronism

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anotherwritersblog · 2 years

Text

Title: Mr. B

Pairings: teacher!Bucky Barnes x teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: teasing, getting handsy, almost a handjob but not quite there, suggestive/language, let's not call HR, okay? This is a teacher x teacher fic. If you think there's a student involved just because high school is mentioned, please kindly go away 🙃

Author's Note: So I was taking a class and one of the prompts had me "role-playing" a scenario where a "Mr. Barnes had to intervene a fight" and well...it turned into this. 🤷‍♀️ I could never teach high school, but I might be convinced if I had coworkers that looked like Bucky 😂 Mistakes are my own.

Long time no see. Just checking up on tumblr. See y’all next month with another piece from the drafts. Lol

Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.

In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to repost this anywhere

Divider by @happygowriting 💕

High school was always the bane of your existence. Everyone was so “clique-ish” and always huddled down their own hallway. The jocks were never caught without some sort of ball in their hand, throwing it back and forth across the hall. The nerds were geeking out every Monday about their new Magic the Gathering cards they bought over the weekend or playing games of their own. The band kids were found making out behind the vending machines or practicing in the band room, where everyone heard as they got off the buses in the morning. You eventually found your own group of friends, but your days were always the same.

Get up, go to school, tread through classes, eat your lunch, tread a little more, go home.

And repeat.

Many of the classes also bored you half to sleep. There were very few you actually enjoyed, and maybe a handful of teachers you were actually going to miss. But once graduation came, you tossed your cap in the air with the only thought of good riddance.

You went off to college the following fall. You experimented. Found yourself. Fell in love. Graduated once again. Got married. The experience was a lot better than you ever thought it would be. But of course, after all was said and done, you found yourself back where you thought you’d never be again.

High school.

It had been almost a decade since you graduated, but you had found a love in teaching the older grades. More specifically, Advanced Comp for seniors. You were able to combine two of your passions into one and you actually enjoyed it.

You had such a welcoming classroom and any student that knew you, past, present, or even in passing, respected the hell out of you. You were patient with your struggling writers and knew exactly how to challenge your higher-thinking students. You made the class engaging and it was always the highlight of someone’s day.

All the seniors on your roster loved your class and all the younger students wanted to be in your class. It was a rewarding feeling and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself.

The only downside of your day was that your planning period was towards the end, sixth period out of seven. You’d prefer it first thing in the morning, or as your very last period, but it is what it is.

Heading to the mailroom during this time on a Friday, you caught sight of two of your students, John and Peter, and the school’s new PE Coach, Bucky Barnes, outside of the gym. Your curiosity got the better of you and you had to see what was going on. John was a tall, blonde athletic kid. He was a little arrogant, but his writing took you by surprise when he turned it in. Peter on the other hand, was much smaller in statue, but was also one of the smartest and most kind students in your class. He was so sweet; he would never hurt a spider.

“Now explain to me, why did you trip Walker?” Bucky leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as his eyes bounced between the two troublemakers.

“What’s going on here? You tripped John?” your head snapped to Peter, but his eyes were glued to his shoes.

“Afternoon, ma’am. Just trying to figure that out is all,” Bucky’s voice called your attention to him, and you saw the slight smile on his face before it disappeared once more. He eyed the boys and asked Peter to continue with his side of the story.

“Walker was picking on MJ and wouldn’t leave her alone, basically teasing her. So, I may or may not have tripped him, and then he ran me down and started hitting me. I tried to block a few punches, but that’s when Coach Barnes saw us and pulled us apart. Walker told him that I started it,” finally looking up, and meeting your gaze, you catch sight of the nasty bruise that was forming on Peter’s cheek.

“You let this happen?” you glanced at Bucky, furious that he hadn’t done anything about it.

“Well, when you’re in the middle of making sure eighty other children aren’t throwing dodgeballs at heads or below the belt, it takes a minute before we can get to the bottom of a situation.”

“I am very disappointed in you both,” you glared at the teenagers. This time, they’re both looking at the ground. That was the last way they wanted you to feel about them. “John, you will take Peter to the nurse and tell her exactly what happened. On Monday, you both will be serving detention before and after school and will receive an extra writing assignment for homework. You are seniors for god’s sake, almost adults. You better start acting like one. Do you understand me?”

The boys mumbled a yes ma’am and started walking. You heard some soft chatter about what sounded like the new episode of Squid Games, so you turned your body back towards the other adult in the conversation. He was looking at you with what might have been concern, not for you, but the two boys you just sent off.

“Why don’t you come into my office for a minute? Coach Wilson can handle the class for a couple of minutes without me.”

You followed him into his office and sunk into the chair across from his desk. You heard the door lock behind you, and the shutter of the blinds to close. Footsteps were made to the mini fridge behind his desk, and you eye the bottles of water.

“Would you like one, doll?” he pulled two out and started to hand one off to you. You accept the offer and take a couple of sips, enough to cool down a bit. He stood in front of you, sitting against his desk, looking over you. “I think you might have gone overboard with the punishment.”

“I did not go overboard! You should have yelled at them! You need to document it!”

Bucky stuck his hands out towards you, beckoning for you to come to him. You placed the bottle on the floor and stood up, placing your hands in his. He pulled you into a warm embrace as you laced your fingers behind his back. Your head laid on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

“Mrs. B. Did you forget to grab your lunch again? Or was last night’s rendezvous too much and you just didn’t get enough sleep?” Bucky questioned softly, running his hands through your hair.

“I may or may not have forgotten my lunch again, Mr. B...” you mumbled into his chest, this time averting your gaze from his.

“Baby. Why didn’t you come get something from my office? You know I have snacks laying around. I don’t care if you come in while I’m out on the court with the kids.”

“I lost track of time, putting in grades so I wouldn’t have to this weekend, and then there were the emails about the upcoming festival and after school activities they needed volunteers for and-”

Cut off by a pair of soft lips on yours, you felt your eyes close and just enjoy the moment. The way Bucky’s hands had found their way to cup your cheeks, and yet pull your body further into his, made a lot of the frustrations you didn’t know you had, melt away.

“Man. Who knew that working with your husband had its perks,” you giggled, looking into those beautiful, blue eyes. Your hands slipped up into his sweatshirt, feeling every dip and ridge of his abdomen.

“You’re playing a dangerous game there, Mrs. B. I don’t want to have to contact HR for this behavior,” he chuckled, running his hands down your sides and back up to the buttons on your blouse.

“My behavior? I don’t know what behavior you could be talking about, Mr. B. I’ve been a good girl today,” your fingers feather down to the front of his sweatpants, where you notice the bulge beginning to grow. You soon found yourself palming him, eliciting low moans and groans from his lips into the small office. “In fact, I think I deserve my own reward for being so good this week. Got anything in the treasure box I might enjoy?” Your hands reached for the waistband of his sweats, fingers grabbing the other side of his briefs and brushing against the upper part of his cock.

You felt him twitch beneath your fingers as you began to pull down his bottoms. Unfortunately for him, the bell had rung. A few of his usual curse words fell from his lips before you tugged him closer for one last kiss.

“I guess those dodgeballs on the court aren’t the only blue ones around here now. I’ll see you when you get home, Mr. B,” you slipped from his grasp and smoothed the front of your blouse down. You grabbed your water bottle, a bag of chips from his stash, and made your way out the door.

Bucky couldn’t be more thankful that this was his planning period, so he didn’t have to deal with students for the rest of the day. The only planning he could focus on though was what he was going to do to you when you got home tonight.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #teacher!bucky #teacher!bucky barnes #anotherwritersblog writing

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scribblelark · 29 days

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The Owl in the Tree

I walk up a road that curves away to my right, enjoying the blue twilight. There’s an Oak tree on the left of the path up ahead and a Barn Owl perching in its branches. I’m aware of him long before I see the heart-shaped disc of his face, as aware as I am of the tree itself, busily living and growing still, despite being over two hundred years old. One of the benefits of being a witch that I particularly enjoy is my awareness of the Spark of Life in everything around me. I was once asked (by a non-witch friend) if it wasn’t overwhelming, but I was aware of the Spark of Life in all things even before I was born. To me it’s as normal as breathing. And wholly comforting. The Barn Owl acknowledges me as I pass under his tree. Not in words, but in a warmth toward me in his mind, and I send warmth back to him. I’ve never been on this road before, but the vast folds of the hills as the road heads towards the mountains, the warmth of the Spring evening, the sheer explosion of Life all around me is heart-lifting. I find myself relaxing in ways that I never can whenever I’m stuck in towns and cities, which is why I rarely visit them. I feel like someone half-deaf when I’m within town walls – the Spark of Life is muted by the stones surrounding me, even if there are trees and plants (and people, birds, and animals) within. Life within a city always seems constrained to me, who grew up in a timber-built cottage in the countryside, the nearest town some twenty-five miles away. Still, it’s not every day that the Queen sends for you, and since I had done her signal service some months ago, saving her from a virulent fever that could have killed her off en route to meeting her fiancé, I could hardly refuse to attend the wedding when I was politely commanded to go. As I walked under the moonlight, I felt my spirits lift and my soul expand as if I could encompass the universe. Who knows, maybe I could.

A good friend sent me a greeting card with the above painting by Angie Rooke on it and it inspired this ficlet. I am hoping to expand on the character, a non-binary Witch named Wulfrun, and the world she inhabits, but as always, it depends on the whims of my Bitch Muse!

#Original Fiction #My Writing #Fantasy #Prompt Fic

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rookthorne · 6 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝

It had been an ordinary day — nothing amiss, nor a cause for concern, not even the sudden appearance of soldiers in the local tavern. You should have known better, however, for fate had never left you in peace.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☽◯☾ Witcher!Bucky Barnes x Sorceress!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☽◯☾ 3.8k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☽◯☾ Dark themes, fluff, wound tending, implied torture and past character deaths

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☽◯☾ This has been in the cards for a long time, and I thought to hell with it, I want a new collection.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☽◯☾ Nature Boy (Acoustic) by AURORA

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ☽◯☾ @anyfandomaubingo 𝗜𝟭— Witchcraft AU — Masterlist ☽◯☾ @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Village life was quiet. Peaceful and tranquil, but it stunk to the high heavens.

It was a place where you could venture and be somewhat at peace, taking stock of your craft and practising heartily. You supported the village in many ways, too – buying from the local farmers while trading herbs and ointments for all manner of things, from aiding the wounded and sick, to caring for their animals.

There were plenty of opportunities to socialise in the tavern, located in the main square, a crossroads where travellers, each unique, took a load off before they moved on.

You had to admit to yourself that nothing would beat your small cottage on the outskirts, though. And by the Sisters, you would have given anything to be back behind the wooden walls of your haven at that moment.

The tavern was loud, tremendously so, and full to the brim of Nilfgaardian soldiers and captains that barked orders, squabbled over their losses, and howled their misery.

A scuffle broke out by the main dining hall, and you rolled your eyes as you fidgeted with your tankard. “Idiots, the lot of them,” you murmured over the ruckus, and Rose, the plump and aged barwench looked up at you from her chopping board, a sly smile on her thin lips. “What?”

“Whip ‘em into shape, lass,” she said simply, as though you could click your fingers and bring them to heel – which, you could, but you did not need the village to know that. Not if you wanted to remain in this festering, livestock ridden, peaceful abode.

You grinned, a wolfish thing but full of wry humour. “Now Rose, that’s just not how a lady works in these parts, is it?”

It wasn’t. Not unless you wanted to be tried for witchcraft and sorcery – drawn and quartered, or hung from a post at the village entry. The fate that befit many of your sisters before you made a shiver ripple down your spine, and you grimaced.

“Lass, you best get,” Rose cautioned as she glanced over at the rowdy soldiers. The next words she uttered were from the corner of her mouth. “I don’t want you getting caught up in their mess.”

Rose was the only sanctum in this damned place – aged, wise, and perceptive, she recognised the signs for what they were, and the cunning woman worked out that you were a sorceress within days. After all, it wasn’t normal for swallows, song birds, or deer to leap and bound after any normal villager; nor was it normal for wherever you roamed to spring new life, flora and fauna alike.

You glanced over your shoulder at the boisterous soldiers, and sighed heavily. “Yes, you’re right.” The stool scraped loudly, and Rose smiled at you, a bag outstretched in offering. “What’s this?”

“A gift, for the help you have lent me, love,” she said softly, a knowing glint in her eye. “Helga has never been better, and it’s thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you breathed. Helga, a heifer that supplied the tavern with milk, had been under the weather and ill producing any product. An afternoon in her pen with soothing words and concoctions had done her wonders, if you guessed by the churning of butter and flagons of milk. “You didn’t have to-”

“Nonsense.” Rose pushed the bag into your hands and you were helpless but to accept. “Take it and enjoy them–hell, you are the only one here that is grateful for my food, let alone eat it without complaint.”

A smirk pulled at your lips, and you slyly took a few steps back. “You say that as though you don’t eat your own cooking…”

“Get,” Rose snapped, brandishing a wooden spoon at you. “And I don’t want you back here ‘till tomorrow!”

“Have a good night,” you called, laughing as Rose kept the spoon trained on your retreating figure.

The night air was pungent with the stench of livestock manure and stale beer, but the undertones of crisp herbs and soft flowers filled your senses, overburdening the rot with life that you controlled at your fingertips. The very gift of life hadn’t been given to all those of who practised, it was a rare gift that the fates bestowed upon you, much to your chagrin.

To give and to take the life essence of another was both a blessing and a curse – for when you took a life, one that was burdened with pain, it weighed on you heavier than the world on your shoulders. To give life, breathe the karma into something that would have otherwise been damned, it gave you a purpose.

It was why you trained to be a healer, one that excelled in the craft of mending wounds and curing ailments. No one ever questioned how you were so adept and proficient in your work, either. You were thanked profusely and you were given gifts, then forgotten about until the next villager or animal needed your help.

You supposed that time would run out soon enough. The soldiers of the Eternal Flame and the captains of the Nilfgaard forces never rested – borrowed time was the curse of healing, because for all that you healed and helped others, the closer they loomed.

And leaving the putrid village, the one you had grown to both love and loathe in equal measure, filled you with a bitter sadness and a tainted joy. Rose, Helga, the elderly spinster that was your neighbour, the small children down the lane — what would they do without you?

You continued to wander down the lane, avoiding the puddles of mud and piles of mess, when the small cottage you called home came into view. The shawl over your shoulders tightened across your shoulders in your grip, and a sigh of relief fell from your lips.

Home – where you could drop the facade and recharge after sharing the presence of drunkards and fools all evening.

Suddenly, a small meow came from the bushes along the edge of the lane, and you smiled at the sound. “Shani, little one,” you whispered, kneeling on the verge of dirt and grass. “There you are. Come.”

White fur shone under the warm light of the torch a little ways away, and then piercing blue eyes peered through the brambles – bright and curious. “Hello, Shani–come on, let’s get home.”

She complied, and with a huff and a sneeze, she pulled herself out from the leaves; fur ruffled and streaked with dirt. You couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in your chest at the sight of her – days had gone by, and you suspected the fearless feline was starving for both food and affection. “Did you clear out the barn for Darius, little one?”

A chirp was your answer, and you nodded. “Right then. A hard working woman such as yourself deserves a treat. I bought you some fish from the market.” Tail high in the air, you watched Shani trot away towards the front door of your home, a steady stream of purrs and chitters along the way.

The welcoming heat from the fireplace engulfed your whole being as the door to your cottage swung open, and the strong scent of herbs and potions followed soon after. “Home sweet home,” you hummed, taking a moment to hang the shawl from your shoulders up onto the hook in the entryway.

It was a simple home. A small kitchen lined with many shelves and cupboards, all of which were full to the brim with spices and fruits, scattered the walls and space. To the left of the entryway there was a small seating area with a bookshelf lined with hypothecary books and beastaries of all shapes and sizes.

Behind a small cloth in the furthest corner in your cottage, however, in a separate bookshelf, lay a forbidden tome of Witcher magic – knowledge acquired only from the long lineage of mages in your family tree.

Decades, even centuries ago, it was said your lineage worked closely with the monster slayers in the prime of the Conjunction of Spheres – where horrors that blurred the line of reality and dreamscape ventured into your world and left it ravaged, torn, and broken.

For years your grandfather-grandfather’s worked on trials and concoctions to create the ultimate saviour, for which they had succeeded. And they would have stayed successful if fury hadn’t consumed the men that had been turned into weapons against their will.

Retribution and revenge had become their way once they rose up and took back what they were owed – their own lives.

You hadn’t blamed them, if you were honest. Taken and enslaved against their will, forced through the most painful and excruciating trials known to humanity at the time, and then forced into more trials of combat with hellish creatures for which less than half survived.

It went against every fibre of your morality to even think of the abhorrent practices of your ancestors, and with that final flash of guilt, you turned towards your chambers – they of which were opposite that corner of shame.

Moonlight filtered in through the small windows and casted long shadows over the wooden floor as you settled into a comfortable chair for some night time ready. The flames of candles placed about the room flickered and danced as you read, the book in your hand completely enrapturing you. The soft touch of fur under your fingers was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

Shani was purring contentedly, sleepy from a belly full of fish, when she suddenly perked up – the movement so fast it knocked your book from your hands. “Little one, goodness–what is it?”

A shuffling sound came from outside, and you stared at the door, the sudden feeling of flight or fight pulling you deep, deep from your instincts. The skin of your palms crackled and glowed an amber that lit up the corner of the room you occupied, and your eyes — once dull and entirely human — flashed crimson with magic.

It had been so long since you had needed to tap into your more aggressive stores of magic. People left you well enough alone, and creatures, both monster and predatory, were put off by protective runes. It would not be a beast.

Trespassing on a Sorceress’ lair was a fatal mistake. If this truly was a vagabond, or heaven forbid, a bandit, they would pay the ultimate price.

Hoofbeats sounded along the stoned path of your cottage, and you heard a low nicker of worry. The sound disarmed you, and your gaze flickered between the arched back of Shani, and the front door.

The gift of communicating with animals had served you very well in the past, you remembered. Cautiously, you opened your mind – the current of thought flowing from it to the creatures around you.

Unheard by any humans, you barked a loud command. “Halt!” It echoed off the walls, bouncing from animal to animal, its effect instantaneous.

The horse, strong and proud by the assurity of its steps, came to an abrupt stop. The ensuing silence was interrupted by a low groan of pain, the clink of metal, and creak of worn leather.

“Fuck,” a deep voice hissed. “Keep going, Alpine.”

Human. And a man, by the sound of it, and he was in agony — the currents of pain he emanated were anything to go by. Another curse of being a healer with an acute touch.

An almighty crash sounded just outside your door, and you stiffened.

“Goddammit,” the voice cursed, followed by the sound of dragging feet. “You brought me here, Alpine? Of all the places you could have–? What’s a peasant going to do-” There was a pause in his accusations. He moaned lowly in pain, then, “Don’t you fucking look at me like that, you nag.”

The quip almost made you laugh, if it wasn’t for the bubbling fear deep in your guts.

A sudden bang on the door made you jump.

“Who’s there?” you yelled, clenching your fists so the energy that flowed from them crackled and burned the air around you. Before the man could utter an answer, you heard them fall to the floor once more, followed by a guttural groan of pain.

The whinny of fear from the horse forced you into action, and you hastened to the door – if it were a trap, you could dispatch of the intruder with a snap of your fingers, but something spurred you closer. To hear such distress from an animal fractured your soul, and you made it your purpose in life to stop suffering; not prolong it.

Iron and sweat was all you could smell in the air as you neared the door, and you prayed for strength, summoning it from within. The power of it made your eyes burn in your sockets, but it tempered your fear – if the intruder were to see you were a powerful Sorceress and one to not be trifled with, you could both leave this encounter unscathed.

The door creaked open, and you gasped, “By the Fates!”

The slumped figure of the intruder looked up at you from the ground, his face streaked with blood, mud, and some kind of purple liquid that seeped down his jaw and neck. The leather and chained armour plates over his shoulders and chest fared no better.

His eyes, unnaturally bright and with dark slits for pupils – this was no ordinary man, you realised quickly. “You’re a Witcher,” you breathed, your hand covering your mouth in shock. “What in heavens-”

“Alpine brought me to you,” he rasped, and a trickle of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. “I can’t fathom why-” A wet cough interrupted him, and you watched, horrorstruck, as his gloved hand came away from his mouth covered in blood. “I need shelter to heal,” he continued, his voice strained with an onset of pain. “I will pay you–just, I need to-”

You eyed the swords on his back with apprehension, but you were no monster, silver would not work on you. Steel, however, would. The tales of the butchers that still roamed the Continent fresh in your mind, the warnings against engaging with a rogue Witcher still blared through your rational mind.

But he was hurt.

Witchers, while not immortal, were hardy brutes. It took a lot to take one down, and once in a state of near death – like the man seemed to be before you – they were rumoured to become frenzied in a last ditch effort to take as many down with them.

It was not a fate destined for a Witcher, to die cosily in his bed.

“You will not hurt me?” you asked quietly, the crackling of your palms drawing the icy gaze of the stranger. A look of recognition flashed through his taut expression, and you knew your secret was exposed.

He shook his head. “No.”

You glanced up at the horse that stood watching a few paces away, the once white coat of the steed bloodied and filthy with grime. Their gaze met yours, and it screamed of a plea to help, to help my human.

Sighing, you looked back down at the man sprawled at your feet. “Inside,” you commanded. “If you cannot manage, I will bewitch you.”

“I can manage,” he gritted out, his jaw clenched.

You blinked and stepped back into your cottage, guard still up as you watched him falter and sway to his feet, the lack of noise suspicious, though upon closer inspection, it looked like the Witcher was biting his tongue – if he hadn’t already bitten clean through it. His build was massive, bigger than the lumberjacks and hunters of your village, and if he wasn’t bleeding all over your floor, you would have called him handsome.

“Where are you wounded–is it deep?” you asked, pointing at the cot just visible behind a curtain. It was where you treated villagers, normally. The Witcher limped past you, his bulk still swaying with each step. “Is that even your own blood?”

“Yes,” he snapped, brows furrowed. “I will not be here long.”

You considered him a moment, and you frowned. There was no way that he would wander out your door by sunrise, not if the Witcher’s renowned ability of regeneration and healing were true – it would take him days to recover from this alone. “You are not going anywhere.”

The look in his eyes startled you into silence. “And what do you propose? You are a Sorceress that is beyond protective of her lair, and I am a Witcher. We cannot and will not coalesce–not if your damned cat keeps staring at me like that.”

Shani hissed and moved closer to your ankles, the bristle of her fur felt even through the fabric of your gown. “For a Witcher that has faced dragons and other beasts-”

“There is no such thing as dragons,” he hissed, glaring at you.

You couldn’t help the quirk of your lips. “Alright. For a Witcher that has faced many a beast in the wilderness and gotten his fair share of coin for it,” you said, eyeing his expression that morphed into something impassive. “You seem awfully afraid of a cat.”

“Just-” He licked his lips and gingerly sat down on the cot. “Look, I will not linger. As soon as the sun rises, I will be gone, and you’ll have a fat purse of coins for your trouble. Deal?”

A pregnant pause echoed louder than the roar of a troll, and you found yourself growing impatient. “Fine. But I will clean your wounds before you retire. Alpine-” The snort at your open window gave you pause, and you looked over to see the white steed peering in from the outside. “Hello, beautiful,” you whispered, and the horse looked at you, their eyes soft.

“Alpine is… She is tricky,” the Witcher sighed. “The bloody mare can be steadfast against a pack of ghouls and alghouls, but as soon as she senses distress from a nearby human or even me, she becomes a mother hen. It is infuriating.”

“She is just doing her job,” you said, still looking at the mare. “A steed that cannot stand suffering, but yet, she carries a butcher on her back. The irony.”

You glanced at the Witcher to gauge a reaction, and you were not wrong to do so – a pinched expression, as though the mention of the title of the rogue Witchers pained him even more than his still weeping wounds. “I am not one of them.”

“Really?”

“No, I am not–believe it or call me a liar, a fool,” he said determinedly, gripping the edge of the cot so the leather of his gloves creaked. “But I cannot–will not allow myself to become a monster. Not after all I have seen and done, and by the Fates, I have seen enough and inflicted enough pain for my lifetime.”

Moments passed as you stared at him, the silence echoing loudly against your ears, until, “If you no longer wish for me to be here, please allow me at least a moment to catch my breath. Fates know when I will be able to stop next.”

“No,” you cut in, crossing your arms. “You will lay on that cot once I have done what I can, and you will rest. I cannot turn down a being in pain. And while you are not human, that doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer.”

Icy eyes met yours, and you could have sworn you’d seen a smile on his lips. It was then you noticed that his hair, while coated with grime, was actually a mix of typical silver – an attribute caused by the mutations that your ancestors created – with black streaks.

You decided to table the question for later, and you turned to fetch your satchel of salves and ointments from the other room.

“I did not realise this was a Sorceress’ cottage,” the Witcher ventured suddenly. “You seem so detached from the village–though I am glad Alpine brought me here. At least, you look strong enough to overpower if you were to decide to attack or kill me.”

A scoff left your throat before you could master the impulse, and you shook your head. You fussed about in your shelves for bottles and jars, when you heard the wet slap of soaked armour hit the wooden floor by the cot, and you asked over your shoulder, “What monster caused this?”

“Archespore,” he replied. “I was trying to get a group of children that were foolish enough to play in the woods safely back home, when it sprung from the ground.”

“By the Fates,” you said again. “Were they okay?”

“Yes, they ran for the village when the ground shook.”

“At least they were unharmed,” you whispered, and the Witcher hummed an agreement. “You did not tell me your name, by the way.”

The cot creaked as the Witcher moved, and you appeared in the doorway to find him placing his swords on the rickety wooden chair by the bed. “Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you drawled, placing the satchel on the cot. “Strong name. Where are you from?”

“I don’t remember,” Bucky mumbled.

“Well then,” you sighed, sitting beside the Witcher. “You better put up with my ravings as I tend to your wounds.”

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes, but turned away from you so you would have better access to his back – the skin was bloodied and torn, but underlying all the wounds lay scars. Each raised line of skin told a story, a gruesome tale, but you were fascinated with how the scars grew in number closer to his left shoulder.

The skin was mottled and puckered, angry with lines and lumps of white, shiny tissue that had healed so jaggedly you suspected this was not an accidental inflection — no, this was torture induced, brutal, brutal torture.

Whip lines cascaded down his flank, and your fingers itched and twitched with the compulsion to heal. It wouldn’t work, though, the skin far too damaged and long healed over, as mangled as it had done so.

A heavy sigh made your shoulders sag, and you reached out to touch a still weeping wound, the crackle of your magic filling the air until you stopped to stare at the side of Bucky’s head, who was determinedly avoiding your eyes.

Miracles were something gifted by the Fates, and just this once, you had no way of mustering the strength to ask for one — Bucky had suffered enough. A ritualistic ceremony would only cause the Witcher more pain and anguish.

“Your scars tell a tale many do not live to regale, Witcher,” you whispered, awestruck with the possibilities as your fingertips danced over his bare skin. “One day, I hope the pain of them no longer burdens you.”

Silence was your only answer, so you soldiered on – salve and ointment in hand.

can you guess which was my favourite line to write in this whole fic?

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #rookthorne's works

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