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dreadnought-dear-captain · 4 years

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You Asked, I Told

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wonder how other people see them??

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

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

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

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

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

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

(YES.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@grimshady @hutchhitched @b0n3l3ssm1lk

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

#you asked #baghdad waltz #asks

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daredevilexchange · 4 years

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See what this is about here, or if you’re using the app here.

What’s your fannish ID? Nightingale / rrrNightingale / rrr_nightingale

What types of fanworks do you create? I am exploring fanart (mostly traditional sketches, liners and markers, but I might go digital too, it is my final goal, lol). So far I am rarely fully satisfied with the result, but it’s still interesting to draw and I hope that practice bears fruit. Also I have translated one fic into Russian and I would probably like to do it again, translating is an exciting process.

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you’re not creating? I love fics, art and gifs, vids can be pretty fantastic too. Haven’t watched much on Daredevil, though.

What do you like in particular about this fandom? I really appreciate Matt and Foggy’s friendship (whether they are a ship or not)! Friendship is very important. Funny thing, I’m not very into ‘protecting the city/fighting Kingpin’ stuff, I like a more realistic (even if slightly AU-ish) take on characters with more relatable problems. I also like No Powers AUs. Unpopular opinion, I don’t hate Iron Fist series xD As for The Punisher, I am more into seeing Frank’s human side, preferably him not mindlessly killing criminals if the plot allows it.

Do you like participating in fan events? Online fandom events are great, they motivate to make content and offer some publicity, also it’s fun to be a part of a bigger thing! Usually there are cool works to find and it’s all very festive. I try to participate when I’ve got free time and feel confident I can deliver. Not a huge fan of campaigns, they demand too much time and attention, and for me fandom life has always been a nice thing done for fun. (Kudos to those who do it.) RL events like cons are very cool though, but I have only visited local ones. Slash parties are the best! :D

Do you interact a lot with other fans? I’m on a Discord server, but I wouldn’t mind interacting with other fans more. I don’t socialize much. I would really like to meet some other fans in RL and talk & party someday :D It’s a pity the distances are significant.

Do you have other fandoms you’d like to talk about?

I’ve been into quite a few fandoms, sometimes I move on or come back. Currently I’m taking a break from Detroit Become Human, had a thing for Good Omens, regularly come back to Marvel Steve/Tony, and am suddenly very into Dirk Gently… I like sci-fi and it shows. My fandom life has been a hectic one :) I cannot name all the fandoms I have ever been interested in, it’s a long list. I prefer gen and slash, adventures or casual stories, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, I like badass yet vulnerable characters, but all fics must end well :D I need more positivity in my life!

Is there any particular piece you’d like to showcase for this post? https://rrr-nightingale.tumblr.com/post/614045567992135680/g-matt-murdock-frank-castle-post-apocalypse-au Here is a new sketch made for @daredevilbingo (an experiment with mixed results). Because why not make a new one? I’d rather finish my bingo sooner than later! %)

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? I used to make icons and write & translate more, nowadays I can hardly write anything (a real bummer!). But also I have always wanted to make fanart, so now I am trying it!

Where can your fanworks be found? https://rrr-nightingale.tumblr.com/ (#daredevil fanart; soon will add some #iron fist fanart DDE: have added the link because now there IS IF fanart :D) https://twitter.com/rrrNightingale (a bit of #Daredevil) https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrrNightingale (no art here, though)

Thank you, @rrr-nightingale - who also created the TWO banners for FrattWeek 2 (May 25 to 31) !

And this banner by @context-is-for-kingpins :-)

#daredevil #daredevil art #daredeviledit #the punisher #marvel #content creator spotlight

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

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Maybe I Am? - Chpt.3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The guys meet up for a casual Sunday farmers market trip but when they get back to Bucky’s apartment things heat up fast. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: basic second base smuttiness; swapping hand jobs and some frottage.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I told ya'll there was gonna a lot of smut in this one and I'm starting to deliver as of this chapter :) So please, enjoy some lovely smuttiness on this fine Wednesday evening lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

“I told you so.” Natasha cheered over their plate of danishes the next morning.

Bucky’s smile was sphinx-like as he nibbled on his pastry, “You did. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not going to just bolt at some point but I think that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.”

“It sounds like a risk worth taking if one kiss has you smiling like that twelve hours later.”

“Ugh, Nat! And for the record, it was more than just one.” Bucky chuckled as Natasha shoved at him playfully.

Across town Steve was helping Sam tidy up in between classes and trying to avoid the grilling he knew Sam wanted to give. They had recapped the last class and personal training sessions and planned out the room for the next group coming in. They went over all the adjustments needed to the next week’s schedule since they were still covering for Thor who was out on paternity leave for the next four weeks now that his wife Jane had the baby. By the time they were setting the last of the kettle bells on the rack they had run out of gym related topics. Sam gave him another side eyed glance and Steve sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So are you still talking to Bucky?” Sam finally asked.

Steve had been reluctant to tell Sam about anything other than their first meeting. He hadn’t even told Sam why he’d bought the new outfit for earlier that week. It was still so new and he was unsure himself of where things were going, or where he even wanted them to go. He figured if in the end he realized he was bi or gay or whatever, then he could tell his friends. But until he was sure there was no point in announcing anything. “I am.” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“And how’s that going?” Sam seemed genuinely interested but Steve still clammed up.

“Good, he’s a good friend. We’ve been swapping memes all week.”

“Nice. See, it all worked out and now you have someone else to send those stupid GIFs from The Office to.”

“Hey, don’t knock one of the best TV shows of all time.” Steve glared pointedly.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Sam moved on, heading over to the desk to check the roster one last time before he started pulling out mats for their next class. A small twinge of guilt bit in Steve’s stomach, knowing he had let Sam make a wrong conclusion and hadn’t corrected him. But really, what was the point if he still wasn’t sure of everything himself?

xxXxx

Bucky woke early on the Sunday after their date, restless in a way he hadn’t been in a while. He wanted to see Steve again but it had only been a day. Bucky busied himself with too much coffee and a book while he did laundry in his building's basement, trying to distract himself for a while. By 10am all of his standard keep busy chores were done and he was staring at his phone, trying to make Steve text him by sheer force of will. Giving up he started swiping through Instagram, catching up on his friend’s weekend adventures. Pepper had posted a cute picture of a bouquet she bought at the local farmers market and Bucky realized he had found the perfect reason to text Steve. It was innocent enough and casual so if Steve was busy or declined it wasn’t earth shattering. Plan in place, Bucky fired off a quick text.

Bucky Barnes [10:17:44AM]: hey u. im heading 2 the farmers market in sunset park. gonna stop 4 more of that wine. wanna come?

Steeeeve [10:19:23AM]: Hey! That sounds fun. What time?

Bucky Barnes [10:19:52AM]: headed over now if ur free

Steeeeve [10:20:08AM]: Okay. I just need to throw on some shoes and I’ll head out. I can be there in like 15min.

Bucky Barnes [10:20:33AM]: k see u then

Bucky scrambled to fix his hair and pick a shirt from the pile he’d just brought up. He hadn’t expected Steve to be willing to meet up so quickly and he was still wearing his laundry day sweatpants. He was closer to the market than Steve but he also needed more time to get ready so he ended up getting a “I’m here” text from Steve on his way.

Steve was waiting by a jewelry stand when Bucky caught up with him. He had been wandering around for a few minutes and the display of beaded bracelets caught his eye. They reminded him of the ones Bucky had worn when they first met and he wondered which ones Bucky would like.

“Hey!” Bucky greeted him with a small wave as he approached.

“Hey.” Steve echoed happily. He almost reached out for a hug but something held him back and after a second ticked by he realized he should have just done it but the moment had passed.

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten their standard greeting hug and wanting to move on.

“Oh, these things caught my eye while I was browsing.”

“They’re nice. I love the way the translucent ones almost glow.” Bucky picked up one of the vivid pink ones, letting the sunlight hit it from different angles.

“Let me buy it for you.” Steve offered before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Bucky looked skeptically at him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, please?”

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, handing the bracelet over.

Steve blushed at the nickname, ducking his head and walking over to pay the sales girl for the bracelet. Once purchased, he returned it to Bucky who slid it on his wrist next to the two others he was currently wearing.

“Perfect.” Steve praised.

Bucky was looking appreciatively at his newest addition while Steve was looking appreciatively at Bucky. God, he was gorgeous. Bucky was dressed casually in light washed jeans and a dark grey shirt with no one should live in a closet written in fancy script with a wand below it, all in rainbow colors. Leave it to Bucky. “I like your shirt. Harry Potter reference, right?” Steve guessed.

“Yep. I found it at Pride last year and I’m completely in love with it.”

“It’s very you.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Bucky preened for a moment.

Steve chuckled, “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. Altitude Coffee has a little pop up shop back that way.”

Steve and Bucky trailed their way through the bustling farmers market, picking up things here and there. Some they actually needed for groceries, but others were just fun impulse buys. They each had overly full canvas totes by the time they were done, and hauled their finds along with them to the wine shop. They each bought a full box from the shop, having stocked up on a half case of their favorites, which only further slowed Bucky down. While Steve had the muscles and endurance to haul a giant tote and six bottles of wine around the city, Bucky did not.

“Uh, Steve.” Bucky panted out, finally giving up.

Steve looked over and realized Bucky had fallen a few steps behind while he was talking about a winery he had visited while in Canada a few years ago.

“I think I need to tap out.” Bucky admitted while shifting his bag as much as he could to get comfortable.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Steve shifted his tote higher on his shoulder, wondering if he could sling Bucky’s on next to his. “Here, let me take your bag.” he extended a hand towards Bucky’s bag.

Bucky was conflicted, he wanted to try and at least get his stuff home but Steve probably could carry both without breaking a sweat. Damned muscled god of a man. “How about this? Since I’m the one wimping out, let me call us an Uber. I can probably get us one less than five minutes.”

Steve frowned at the idea of an expensive ride all the back to Park Slope. “You don’t have to do that. I can carry our stuff.”

“If I call us an Uber we could go back to my place and try that baguette and jam I bought.”

“Ooh, that’s a good bribe. I have that cheese I got too.” Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment. An afternoon of good food and even better company was too tempting to pass up. “You sure you don’t mind me coming over?”

“Not at all. It’s a tiny little crap shack of a place, but it’s my tiny little crap shack.”

Bucky was already pulling up the app and ordering them a car when Steve finally said, “Okay, let’s go.”

The Uber ride back to Bucky’s place was barely more than ten minutes and they sat cramped in the back of a Prius with their wine boxes in the trunk and their totes in their laps. Bucky was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness and shot Steve amused glances every so often, making the blonde have to tamp down his own laughter. By the time they got to Bucky’s apartment Steve practically leapt out of the tiny blue car, grateful to stretch back to his full height again. He insisted on carrying both of their totes and his box of wine bottles up to Bucky’s apartment, leaving Bucky his own wine to carry. Thankfully the building had an elevator and Steve seemed barely phased under the weight of all their stuff. Bucky tried to ignore the filthy thoughts racing through his head of what else Steve was strong enough to do. Like pick him up and fuck him against a wall. Or something. God, Bucky hoped Steve figured things out soon because he was barely through their second date and wanted to climb the man like a tree.

“Home sweet home.” Bucky announced as he swung the door open to his apartment. He flicked on the recessed lighting in the living room and showed Steve to the kitchen where he could put their bags down. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment with a decent sized living room and dine-in kitchen.

“It’s nice.” Steve said looking around as he placed their bags on the faux granite countertop.

“It’s tiny but it works.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve noticed the would be dining room area of the kitchen was set up with a desk and three wide computer monitors instead of a table. “That’s quite a set up over there.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky looked embarrassed for a moment, “It’s a little ridiculous, but when you work from home it’s kinda nice to have a sweet setup. When I signed on to work for Stark Securities they gave me a signing bonus so I splurged and bought better equipment and that fancy office chair. It was completely worth it too.”

“Good for you, you deserve it.”

Bucky blushed lightly at the sincerity of Steve’s tone. He nervously spun the bracelet Steve had bought him around his wrist a few times, hoping he wasn’t setting himself for heartache. “So, lunch?” Bucky offered, the momentary tension dissipating.

“Absolutely. Let’s break out that bread you got.” Steve started rifling through his bag for the soft cheese and candied pecans he’d bought while Bucky pulled out the heavy loaf of artisan bread, the little pot of homemade plum jam, and a bottle of Chloe Prosecco he’d bought at the wine shop. The bottle had been adorable with its fancy little bow and the sales girl had said it was a popular choice.

They laid out their feast on a large cutting board, teasing each other about how posh the whole thing was. It was a simple but seemingly elegant lunch spread and Bucky liked that their official second date had a bit of a classy feel to it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a table or anything for us to eat at.” Bucky waved his hand at his little office space. “I normally just eat on the sofa like a heathen.”

“Honestly so do I.” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“We can be heathens together then.” Bucky picked up their wine glasses while Steve carried the large tray out to the coffee table where they set up their feast. Flicking through his streaming channels he settled on Disney, knowing everyone loved those movies. “Have you seen the new Beauty and the Beast?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I heard it was good though.”

“Good?” Bucky feigned offense, “Stephen Gilligan Rogers.”

“Not my middle name.” Steve chuckled but Bucky was undeterred.

“BATB is not good. It is iconic. The elaborate costumes, the backdrops, the music, oh my god Steve, the music. We’re watching it. End of subject.” Bucky started up the movie, not even slightly apologetic for his dramatics. One had not lived until they saw Emma Watson as Belle.

Two hours later Bucky was curled up against Steve, watching with misty eyes as the palace furniture turned back into real people as the curse lifted. Steve was completely engrossed in the movie, barely registering that he had been stroking Bucky’s hair for the better part of an hour.

“Now do you see?” Bucky demanded as the credits rolled a few minutes later.

“You were right. That was amazing.” Steve conceded.

“It was always my favorite Disney movie as a kid but seeing it redone in such a perfect way really gets to me. I’ve threatened to dress up as Belle for the past three Halloweens now.”

Steve grinned at the idea, “I think you’d make a beautiful Belle.”

And just like that the air shifted. Bucky was suddenly very aware of how close they were curled up together and the way Steve was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. He didn’t want to rush Steve, he was willing to wait as Steve figured himself out, but if he kept looking at Bucky like that, his timeline needed to hurry up. “You’d make a very handsome beast.” he finally said, going for levity but falling short.

Steve blushed so prettily, his eyes locked on Bucky’s lips, the bottom of which he was chewing on again. Steve knew now it was a nervous tell and it gave him a little thrill knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.” he admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to ask, honey.” Bucky purred, leaning in to press a tender kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve’s body was shaking with nervous energy as Bucky shifted up onto his knees so he could kiss Steve easier. Bucky tasted like wine and plums and something very uniquely him. It made Steve’s head spin as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own. The fears and worries over what he was doing died away in that moment, his whole being consumed by his desire for the sweet man who was practically in his lap. Steve still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew he wanted more.

Bucky was so thankful for a repeat of the night on Steve’s couch. Kissing Steve was electric and Bucky couldn’t get enough. The hard planes of his body pressed firmly up against the softer ones of Bucky’s, which only made Bucky more desperate for the close contact. Despite having a thicker build, Bucky felt small next to Steve and he loved it. Feeling brave, and praying desperately that Steve wouldn’t bolt, he swung a leg over Steve’s lap and sat himself atop Steve’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked once he was settled.

“Yeah.” Steve shuddered, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve let his hands come to rest on Bucky’s thick thighs on either side of his smaller ones. While Steve’s thighs were hard with well earned muscle, Bucky’s had natural musculature and a softness to them that had Steve wanting to sink his fingers into their plush expanse. Bucky had gone back to kissing him while his mind wandered and Steve decided to give Bucky’s thighs an exploratory squeeze. For science really, just to see if he would feel anything. The kissing so far had been fantastic but Steve worried they’d eventually hit a point where everything went to hell and he realized he was most definitely straight. And then he’d lose Bucky forever.

Bucky made a light huffing sound when Steve sunk his fingers into the soft meat of his thighs. He was thankful Steve was getting a little braver and decided to run his hands up and down the length of Steve’s ridiculously muscled chest and stomach in a tentative exploration of his own.

A choked noise made its way out of Steve’s throat as Bucky touched him with feather light hands. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give him all the access he wanted. But he was taking things slow, Steve reminded himself. Unfortunately, not all parts of Steve got that memo.

Bucky had shifted a bit trying to sprinkle kisses along the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw when he accidentally brushed against an unexpected guest. “Oh, shit, sorry.” he blurted out, moving back an inch so he wasn’t pressed against the, frankly enormous, erection in Steve’s pants.

Steve blushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Bucky glanced down at the tenting of Steve’s pants. Damn, he wanted to get his hands on Steve like yesterday. “I could, uh,” he cleared his throat roughly, “help you. With that.” Steve looked at him with wide bright blue eyes, so open and unsure, that Bucky started backpedaling all in a rush, “Or not, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve just grinned and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, his motions almost questioning. “I think I’d be okay going a little further this time.” he said quietly against Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky squeaked involuntarily at Steve’s words. He was now dealing with his own growing problem at the idea of getting to fool around a little with Steve. “If you’re sure. We can stop at any time.” he promised. It would probably kill him, but if Steve said stop at any point he would be off him in a second.

“I trust you, Buck.” Steve told him, brushing a strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky wanted to melt at the trust Steve had in him. He was too good to be true and Bucky just had to hope it would all work out. Gay or straight or somewhere in between, Steve Rogers was an absolute dream partner. Bucky shifted himself forward a little so the hard length in his pants could rub against the one in Steve’s while they kissed a little more. Bucky let his hips rock a little as they moved, giving them both a little bit of tortuous friction.

Steve was panting like he’d run a marathon, and he knew this from personal experience when he and Sam had run the New York City Marathon a few years back as publicity for their gym. He’d never thought making out on a sofa would have quite the same effect but life had been full of surprises for him lately. The friction against his dick felt amazing and there was a naughty little zing of arousal knowing it was from Bucky’s erection rubbing against his. He would never have expected to enjoy that so much but there he was, fighting for self control like a horny teenager. He wanted to get Bucky off too and not just selfishly sit back and let Bucky take care of him. Steve was well acquainted with getting himself off and really how different could it be doing it to someone else? He was feeling bold and brash, knowing a hand was just a hand and really he had to start somewhere. “I think I’m ready for more.” he spoke up in between heated kisses.

Bucky paused, jaw hanging open in shock. “Like, more more?”

Steve nodded rapidly. “Like second base more?” He held his breath, waiting for Bucky to process what he’d just asked for.

“God,” Bucky heaved out a breath, “You’re gonna be the death of me. Yes, second base, yes. Get those pants off, Rogers.” He stripped his own shirt off eagerly while Steve just sat there, amused.

“I kinda have this gorgeous guy on my lap at the moment.” he teased.

“Sorry!” Bucky yelped, hopping up so Steve could pull his pants down and off, quickly followed by his tee shirt. He sat in just his boxer briefs on Bucky’s sofa, looking like every Calvin Klien ad fantasy Bucky’d ever had come to life. “Jesus.” he whispered harshly. Bucky couldn’t get his own pants off fast enough, leaving him in his own silky boxers to resume his perch on Steve’s lap.

Unconfined by pants Bucky got a better feel of Steve’s cock and he was thanking every saint he could think of for what was about to happen. He shifted himself closer to Steve, his thighs spreading wider, and he reached down to give Steve’s cock a tentative squeeze over top the soft cotton of his underwear.

“Ohh.” Steve gasped out, his body trembling once again. His eyes were glued on Bucky, not wanting to miss a moment. He was so handsome sitting on Steve’s lap. His long hair shining in the afternoon sun that flooded in the glass balcony doors, his lightly tanned skin decorated with a series of finely detailed tattoos. While his muscles weren’t hard and cut like Steve’s, Steve loved the slight softness of the other man’s body, giving him something to sink his fingers into along his sides. It felt nice, and right, and Steve realized in that moment he was more invested in what was about to happen than he had been for most the sexual encounters he’d had with Peggy. It was startling but Steve pushed it down to deal with another day. In the moment, all that mattered was Bucky.

“Can I?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs.

“Yeah. Can I?” Steve echoed, tugging at the silky material at Bucky’s hip.

“If you’re sure.” Bucky prayed silently that having an actual cock in his hand wouldn’t send Steve running for the hills.

But it didn’t. Steve pulled his underwear off when Bucky hopped up to do the same and he was all nervous excitement when Bucky resumed his perch. He hadn’t thought of what to expect but Steve was blatantly staring at the thick length of Bucky’s dick. It was shorter than his own, but Steve had already known he was considered a bit above average, and it was girthy in a way that made Steve wonder if he topped or bottomed. Because, Steve thought with amusement, these were things he had to consider now. But not right away. They would take things slow and he would see if this was even something he wanted to try. Steve reached out a hand to test the weight of Bucky’s dick in his palm. He slid his hand up and down for two quick strokes, testing how doing that made him feel and was pleasantly surprised that it was a pretty familiar act. The way Bucky hissed out a sharp breath and craned his neck back, eyes shut tight, made Steve’s own dick jump for attention. Oh, this was kind of fun. Steve moved his hand for another few stokes, enjoying the way Bucky’s body reacted so blatantly to the pleasure. It was easy to get him worked up like that and Steve was genuinely enjoying himself watching Bucky become a desperate, needy thing in his lap, thrusting a little into Steve’s fist.

“God. Fuck. Stevie, slow down.” Bucky pleaded. “I wanna take care of you too, honey. Can I? Please?”

“Okay.” Steve acquiesced, bracing himself for the pressure of Bucky’s hand around his dick.

Bucky eagerly wrapped his fist around the hard length of Steve’s cock, sliding it up and down the impressive length until Steve gasped. He leaned forward to kiss Steve from his jaw down his neck to his collarbones while he groped him fervently between their two overheated bodies. For as simple as it was, it was absolutely exquisite. “How you doing, Stevie?” Bucky prompted, wanting to check in to ensure Steve was still on board. He rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently for him to respond.

“So good.” Steve managed to moan out. “This is amazing.”

“Wanna try something even more amazing?” Bucky grinned devilishly. “Just hand stuff, promise.” he added for reassurance.

“What can be better than this?” Steve questioned but motioned for Bucky to go ahead with whatever he had in mind.

Carefully, Bucky shifted forward one last time, pressing as close to Steve as humanly possible making his over stretched thighs burn in the process. He slipped his hand from Steve’s cock and lined it up with his own, wrapping his fist around them both the best he could. He gave them a quick stroke, reveling in the sensation and waiting to see if Steve would enjoy it too.

Steve’s whimper was a good sign. “Please.” he begged, “Please, please do that.”

Bucky picked up the motion again, rhythmically pumping them in his fist. Steve was making little broken ahh sounds, unable to keep up with the pleasure thrumming through his body, and it spurred Bucky on to bring them both racing towards their release.

Steve could feel the pressure building, his body was on fire and he could barely bite out a warning to Bucky as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. A half formed “I’m g-” was all the warning Bucky got before Steve was spilling all over his hand and cock. Watching Steve come undone, the pure bliss on his face, had Bucky following him over the edge of his own climax seconds later. His body shook hard as he spilled over his hand and across the rippled muscles of Steve’s abs.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining, and Bucky mused he probably looked about the same. Steve was so stunning sitting there with a wide, lazy blissed out smile on his face. Bucky giggled a little realizing how incredibly lucky he was. Steve really was just perfection.

“What?” Steve asked, joining in Bucky’s infectious laughter.

“You’re perfect.” Bucky admitted, speaking what was on his mind.

“And you’re beautiful.” Steve leaned up to push Bucky’s hair back where it had fallen forward in his face. He pressed two chaste kisses against his lips before pulling back, feeling a little extra affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze.

Bucky made a muffled mmph sound, leaning into Steve, just wanting to be close for a moment. “We made quite a mess.” he said finally, the squidgy feeling of their come between their stomachs not exactly a pleasant one.

“We should clean up.” Steve agreed.

“Come on, I have some wet wipes in my room.” Bucky lifted himself up off of Steve’s lap, suddenly cold without their skin to skin contact.

Steve noticed his shiver and as soon as he was standing, he pulled Bucky close against him in a warm embrace.

Bucky basked in the warmth, his brain effectively turning to mush again at how sweet Steve was. “You spoil me.” he whispered against Steve’s firm pecs.

Steve dropped a kiss on top of Bucky’s head, “You deserve to be spoiled.”

It took every bit of willpower in Bucky to pull back and lead Steve down the hall to clean up. He could have stayed wrapped in Steve’s arms forever, sticky cooling mess on his stomach be damned. They exchanged quick, adorably awkward glances at each other as they cleaned up. Both wanting to get a more detailed look now the heat of the moment had passed. Steve tossed his wipes in the wastebasket by Bucky’s dresser and then pulled Bucky close by his hips, “You really are so beautiful, Buck.” he told him softly.

Bucky had been careful to wall up his heart when he decided to give Steve a chance. He didn’t want to risk another heartbreak less than a year after what he’d been through with Brock. But Steve’s sweet words and affectionate touches had the walls crumbling a little despite Bucky’s best defenses. “Careful.” he teased with a pang of truth to his words, “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men, you keep this up.”

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Bucky’s head yet again. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. Raw, honest things that ached in his chest. But Steve kept them inside, not willing to let down his guard so completely just yet. He still didn’t really know what he was doing but damned if he wasn’t loving every second of it so far.

“Come on you, let’s get dressed.” Bucky said finally, tugging Steve’s hand into his and leading him back down the hall.

Steve left shortly after they’d redressed and cleaned up the mess from their lunch. It was a long, drawn out goodbye in the doorway, neither one of them really wanting to part despite knowing they both had to get on with their usual Sunday routines. Steve promised to text Bucky once he’d made it home, insisting he would have no trouble carrying his tote and box on the subway. And then he was off down the hall, looking back just once before he got on the elevator and wishing he could have stayed. Bucky walked over to his glass balcony door, watching the street below as Steve crossed it heading toward the nearest subway station. He was trying not to get too attached but after the day they’d spent together, Bucky knew it was a losing battle.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #idiots in love #confused steve rogers #gay bucky barnes #modern day au

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sebbytrash · 6 years

Text

Through His Eyes - Part Nine

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Angst-ish. Sad Bucky. Sexual content. (Ah!)

A/N - Thank you for the wonderful support on this series, it truly means the world as I agonise over every word. I searched for an hour for a gif and had to settle with the below. Will trade chicken nuggets for comments

Through His Eyes Masterlist

“What a fucking pair we are.” You explain, and laugh low again, “Nothing like flashbacks to ruin a budding friendship.”

“Friendship?” He sounds so pained that you can’t be sure, don’t know if it’s something he wants or dreads.

“Sure.” You say, careful with the tone so you can be clear he has an equal choice here, “I hope so, anyway.”

“Yeah.” He says, smiles and takes that step forward again, “I do, too.”

The next night, you manage to sleep a little later and when you wake, it feels like the celebration of real progress. In fact, your body clock is famous within the walls and the fact that your missing from your usual perch beside the coffee maker this morning has Sam knocking on your door just as your brushing your teeth.

You swing the door open, brush hanging out the side of your mouth and try to smile when you see him, “Hey.” (It doesn’t remotely sound like that.)

“Urgh, gross.” He wrinkles his nose at you and follows you inside.

You brush the last few times and the disappear to spit in the sink before heading back out to Sam, “I would apologise, but you did interrupt me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see you at breakfast, was just checking in.” He says it casually, but you know that he means he was worried, that maybe you’d had a really bad night and were holed up here. Jesus, you didn’t deserve a friend like Sam Wilson. Heart of pure diamond.

“I’m good,” You smile, take a seat beside him on the couch, “I slept late.”

“You slept late?” He asks, confusion at first and then you see it when the implications finally settle, “You slept late!”

To anyone else, it might seem inconsequential, but Sam knows what it means to you, what it must feel like to finally feel like you might be healing in a deep rooted way and not just the fear and the anxiety. Sam who has half carried you the way, taking up the slack when you couldn’t yourself. It his victory as much as it's yours.

“Thank you, Sam. For everything.”

“Don't look at me, I just showed you the way, you did all the walking.”

“Like my own personal Gandalf.” You can’t fight the smile at the thought of Sam in Gandalf’s hat, “You’d suit that hat, y’know.”

“Okay, Frodo. That’s enough of that.”

You take a small sip of the coffee now in front of you, hum low at the back of your throat and shoot Sam a grateful smile. He ducks to peck you on the cheek before disappearing to work with Tony on some new tech for his Wings.

Steve appears a little later, his usual smile is little more forced, the corners of his eyes a little tighter and you instantly worry, recognise the absence of a certain someone and figure they must be related. You feel yourself deflate a little at that, and you don’t take the time to analyse if its because of Steve, or if it’s something else.

“You okay?” You ask him when he grabs a mug from the counter, filling it almost to the brim with Sam’s coffee.

“Yeah, all good.” He replies easily, shooting you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No Bucky, today?” You try to sound casual but the way Steve looks at you suggests it was anything but.

“He, uh, had a difficult night.” He says it gently, hesitantly, and you know immediately that it’s specifically you. He’s dreaming about you, again.

“Oh.” You brain comes up empty, too busy tripping over how much this aches, how the pain has new edges that you don’t want to inspect too closely.

“I’ll check on him in a while, see if he wants to come out and have dinner.”

Wanda emerges muttering her good mornings a lot closer to evening that you care to point out, but take her company on the sofa anyway and spend some time letting Netflix play in the background as she fills you in on her night out. It’s nice and relaxed, yet you can’t help but find your mind wandering to Bucky, wonder if he’s OK and if seeing you will only make it worse. Guilt overlapping with concern and you pull at your fingers until Wanda flicks you on the shoulder to gain your attention.

“Ow!” You shoot her a what-the-fuck look, because what the fuck?

“Am I boring you?” She laughs, nudges you with her shoulder and gives you that smile. The one that reminds you of all the good.

You sigh, “No, of course not, I’m sorry. Just distracted.”

“I see that. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Great, even.” You say and mean it.

“So what’s the distraction?” Wanda pushes, giving you the nudge you might need to talk because she knows it's difficult for you.

“It’s, uh, Steve said Bucky had a bad night.”

“Ah.” One word to strip you bare.

“Ah, what?” Did you sound defensive, because you're probably defensive.

“You’re worried about him.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” You sound a bit defeated, even to your own ears because truthfully you didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Does that bother you?”

“No. It’s just weird I guess. But it means I’m not faking the forgiveness, right?”

“I think that you can forgive someone and still not find the strength to care for them.” She says, her unflinching gaze peeling back your layers, “And yet, you have. You do.”

“Is that stupid?”

She pauses, gives you the weight of her stare, “It’s brave.” Not really an answer.

Steve appears behind Wanda a second later, meets your eyes over her shoulder and gives a soft shake of his head. No, Bucky wouldn’t be coming out today.

The rational side of your brain helpfully points out that it bothers you more than it should.

Tick. Thump. Tick. Thump.

The clock ticks and your heart thumps, a methodic rhythm that bounces between the walls, refuses to get lost in the darkness of your room. Was it just this morning you were celebrating? Thing with that is, progress is progress but when its at the expense of another, it takes the shine out of it. At least, that’s the sort of thinking that has you still awake, contemplating your life choices and marvelling at the bizarre turn your life has taken to where your kept awake at night by thought of the man who tortured you having a rough time.

Ho, life.

It doesn’t take long for you to give up the game of sleep, throw on some workout clothes and head to the sanctity of your treadmill. You spend an hour adding a few more miles to the tread on your sneakers then find a corner to curl up and try not to cough up a lung. That’s when he turns up.

Your not really sure why you choose to remain quiet, it might be the tense way he holds his shoulders or the thrumming energy that has him pacing on the spot but whatever it is keeps you silent from your spot in the corner. Bucky finally stops in front of the punch bag, grips the sides with his fingers like it’s holding him up before unleashing himself on it, the bag groans under the assault, his fists beats against it so quick the sounds start merge together like vibration. It’s both difficult and mesmerizing to watch, the pain and anger in each punch but the speed and accuracy, the grace with which his body moves on pure muscle memory alone. It’s nothing at all like the movements of the solder, and for that reason you find no apprehension inside you, not even the beginnings of any fear as you watch him. You mentally scold yourself for finding victory in this display of agony.

Then it happens, the moment where he breaks. A slow motion drop to his knees, skin dragging painfully down the bag that you know has to be sticking, the endless horror of the sound that comes from his throat. That defeat. You know that sound, know that feeling, and the full weight of it hits you right in the chest, hands of grief clawing away till they find a little give, a little purchase and pull you open. The sounds keep coming, raw and unchecked, the full gravity of his misery laid bare for an audience he doesn’t even know he has. The guilt pushes you up, walks your feet those steps to him and drops you down next to him. Help him, it says.

You reach out a hand, half whisper his name as it touches his shoulder and lightening fast he has your wrist in his grip, eyes wide and red-rimmed as he stares at you.

That one hundred mile stare.

He looks for longer than is comfortable, long enough that you begin and abandon a few apologies, a few comforts and try to begin again when his other hand reaches out to you, grazes your cheek with the softest touch for the tears you didn’t know were falling. He looks from your face to his now wet fingers, spends another few seconds in pure agony and sobs your name. Then he leans.

You have time to stop him, time to change what’s about to happen but you don’t, let him push up onto his knees and forward, pulling you towards him with his hand still wrapped around your wrist and finding your lips with his.

You could stop him.

But you don’t.

No, instead you let his fingers curl around your waist and along your jaw, let his lips apply that sweet pressure that pulls the blood right to the surface of your skin. Kiss him back with all that bubbling emotion that’s been eating at you since he entered, let him feel all the ounces of pain and guilt and everything in between, lose the way back in the barest brush and all that quiet intensity. You know, somewhere in you, that it’s a terrible idea to do this but the second his lips touched you the rational side of your brain went numb, the rest of you so wrapped up in the feeling of feeling, spent so much time fighting or falling that your whole being pulls towards this other sensation. This thing you’d forgotten was possible and were now throwing yourself entirely at. His kisses taste like forgotten moments and untapped grief. Your pain matches his.

Your fingers climb up his arms and hook around his neck, his body trembles under the touch, leans towards each movement like hes aching for it. He is. You are. You chance a few fingers into his hairline, let the soft strands slip between your fingers and are rewarded with a low groan. It's a sound you could stand to hear again, and so you chase it, search for it, lose yourself in that chase the same way he's losing himself in you. Each press of lips chase the darkness further, each moan guards from those ever present memories in a far more effective way than anything else every has.

It's addictive, the press of his lips, the feel of his skin on your skin. You don't know how to stop. (You don't want to stop.)

His lips move across your jaw and you tilt to give him the room he's searching for, find yourself pulled onto his lap as his lips touch the spot under your jaw and continue down making your muscles melt with each touch. Your thighs find their home straddling his, the hard feel of him pressed against you as his fingers press and urge you to move and so you do, one slow grind that bleeds into another. Then another. Your breaths are shorter, punching out of you rapid and mixing with the sighing moans escaping you and the echoing ones from Bucky. There’s nothing else but this moment, this feeling. There’s no fear, no pain, no never ending guilt.

The feeling builds, morphs into something with a destination, licks fire up your spine that pours from you to him, his fingers tighten and and your breathing hitches. Whatever weight there was between you is lost to the song of movement, the blissful blindness that has nerve endings chanting incoherencies. You come undone, breathing your pleased little noises into his neck and his answering groan tells you he’s right beside you, clutching hands and curving spines together. Your heart beats lasciviously for the matching scars and matching fervor.

Then, there’s nothing but breathing. His, yours, the returning presence of regret, barely contained agony and newly adorned satisfaction mixing together like old friends. The floodgates are bending against the will of the guilt that's waiting to overcome you, the feeling that you should have stopped this but undone by the sight of him, of needing to soothe and to be soothed so much it almost split your bones. It’s difficult to regret something and yet ache for it again, for the soft touches that chase away the dark edges.

He disrupts your spiralling thoughts with his fingertips, cups your face and tilts up, whispers your name in that tone you can’t quite place. You wait, desperately clinging to the floating numbness as gravity comes for you, licks at your heels with renewed purpose.

“I do not see why we had to be up this early just to train.” Sam’s voice echoes down the hallway sending you up and away from Bucky in a blind panic, shoving yourself back and straight to the treadmill before he reaches the door. You don’t miss the way his fingers grip you to the last second.

“It’s not that early.” Steve insists as he follows him through, “See, Y/N and Bucky are both up.”

“Jesus, does everybody love the fucking sunrise?” Sam mutters, pauses at your side to give you that smile of his, “Jeez, Y/N. Time for a break, maybe? Your legs are like jello.”

Bucky splutters mid-gulp of his water and you do your best not to tuck your chin.

Sam, fucking, Wilson.

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#through his eyes #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic

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faith-in-dean · 6 years

Text

Nightmares

Summary: You hadn’t realized how much your work has blinded you until you found Tony asleep, suffering from one of his nightmares.

Words: 1043

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Mild Angst

(Gif is totally not related but since the gif search for Tony is 90% anything but Tony, have this)

Normally, you were seen as the normal and quiet person, always organised and handling any pressure well. You always remained calm at work, even at the most stressful times. Everyone around you admired you for that. The Avengers admired you keeping a cool head in the worst situations.

But recently that inner peace you always had seemed to disappear. You were stressed, working hour for hour with barely any breaks in between. Not even sleep could drag you away.

Apparently, there had been a huge junk of work that no one felt like doing all this time and now it all came down to you. The only thing you ever saw was paper after paper as you processed what was written and tried to sort the things into different importancies.

Anyone was used to Tony working like this, keeping himself all day and night but no one would have thought of you to do that. So naturally, everyone tried at least somehow, to get you to take a break. But none of them could.

Tony, your boyfriend had tried multiple times. He was growing tired of not having you by his side when he fell asleep. But not even Tony could make you give up the work.

Not when you were so close to being done with the most important part after all. It wasn’t much anymore and soon you would be able to take it slower, hopefully. But you were so buried in work, you hadn’t even noticed how much Tony had been suffering.

“Hey, baby, joining me in bed tonight?” Tony stood in the doorframe to your office, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I can’t, I’m this close to having this all figured out,” you said, motioning to the smaller pile of paper on your desk. Honestly, any person coming to you, would probably not see through a single thing on your desk. There was just way too much paper and notes everywhere.

“Come on. When was the last time you’ve slept by my side?” he questioned you and you honestly couldn’t remember. But that was not what you wanted to think about at this moment.

Tony pulled you up to your feet and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, making you sigh.

“That's not important right now, Tony. I need to get this done,” you insisted, making him step back from you.

“I see what it is. Good night, Y/N,” his jaw locked before turned and left.

“Tony,” you called after him but it was to no use, he was already gone. Maybe now you had only realized what you just said and did to him.

What the whole situation was doing to him. But you needed to finish this.

You were actually done quite sooner than you would have expected. And for once you were satisfied. For once you didn't feel like you needed to continue working. Sure, you still weren't entirely done but the rest could wait. And eventually, you truly looked forward to sleeping in your bed with Tony by your side. With a content smile on your face, you exited your office and headed towards your and Tony's shared bedroom.

You said your good nights to Steve and anyone crossing your way before you finally entered the room you felt most comfortable at.

After you stripped out of your clothes, you put on one of your boyfriend's shirts and went to join him in bed when you noticed him tossing and turning, mumbling in his sleep.

You turned on the light on your bedside table to look at Tony and found him asleep, sweat covering his forehead. He looked distressed.

He was having a nightmare.

Immediately you cupped his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Tony, baby. Wake up, you're having a nightmare,” you spoke softly, caressing his face as you did so.

He almost startled awake, his hands gripping tightly onto your wrists but only until he realized that it was just you.

“It's okay baby, you're safe. I'm here,” you soothed him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and still caressing him.

“Y/N,” Tony breathed, loosening his grip as he realized it was you.

“You're having nightmares again?” You whispered softly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“I-I am,” he nodded, still trying to recover from the dream he experienced.

“For how long, baby?” you asked him, searching for an answer in his eyes while still caressing him to soothe him.

“I don't know,” he murmured, trying to avoid your glance.

“Tony,” speaking in a warning tone, you caught his glance again.

“For a couple of weeks now,” Tony sighed and rubbed his hand across his face.

“What? Why didn't you tell me?” questioning him, you hadn't even noticed how your recent work schedule had been the cause of him not telling you.

“You've been busy with your paperwork and didn't want to be disturbed and I didn't want to cause you more to worry about,” he explained, making you furrow your brows.

“Anthony. You know you would never do such thing. You should have told me. No work is more important than your well-being,” speaking as soft as you could, you laid down with him and let Tony rest his head on your chest.

How blind have you been not to see what he was going through? After Pepper you had been the first to help him, to keep him sane and keep his nightmares away. You weren't aware how hard it had been for Tony while you were too blinded by work.

Tony easily settled in, burying his face in your chest while he let you run your fingers through his hair.

“I'm sorry baby,” you whispered to him, caressing him to soothe him.

“Just share a bed with me from now on, will you?” Tony murmured, his body visibly relaxing.

“Of course. As long as you tell me when you're having nightmares and I'm not there,” you promised while making him promise too.

“Deal,” he nodded and soon Tony's breathing evened out, signaling he was falling asleep.

You made sure he was not having another nightmare before you were slowly falling asleep yourself, still keeping Tony close against you.

@feelmyroarrrr @bambamwolf87 @cameronmonaghantrashaf @backoffmyhusband @llittle-bird @supernaturallymarvellous @crazysocklovingfangirl @fairlightswiftly @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @dark-night-sky-99 @emma641 @clairese1980 @luciisthebest

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #Tony Stark x You #tony stark one shot #Marvel #Tony Stark Fanfiction #Tony x Reader #Tony x You #Marvel x Reader #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction

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