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captainrexisboo · 4 years

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In A Single Night

Here it is, my lads and ladies and lovers. Only six hours after posting the promo lmao. Sitting at 1685 words, this is the first chapter to my WereRex AU (accidentally prompted by this ask), as well as my first installation of my Monster!Clones series (because apparently I have no self control).

This specific AU takes place during some vague historical time period, outside the Star Wars universe. More supernatural and magic than sci-fi. It is a romance! But, I don’t think it’ll be explicit. There will be very loose reminiscing of lovemaking, but no detail will be shared (yet- I mean c’mon, it’s me).

In this chapter, there will be warnings such as: body horror (not gore tho), the act of pinning, An Anxiety Attack, and An Actual Attack (again, no gore), and ANGST

Tag list will be in the replies, let me know if you would like to be added! Thank you all for your support, and as always any comments are welcome!!! Happy reading!!!

Edit: link to pt2

“Rex!”

Your whispered shout cut sharply through the still night air, not daring to be any louder. You’re not sure what you were afraid of, there was nothing in the woods to fear- except for the reason you were there to begin with. The pressure of the task at hand made your head swim, and the anxiety from terror made your hands shake, thinking of what you witnessed, your grandmother’s age-old guidance, and Cody’s blessing, it all came crashing down onto you in frantic waves.

You forced down a breath, the air scratching down your dried throat. Eyes frantic, you glanced in every direction, praying you found him before he found you. Your grip tightened on the rim of the helmet- of his helmet- and you stared into the blue jaig eyes that graced the front of the dome. It was the only bit of armor you brought with you, the most familiar to use, the only other clothes being his nightwear. The entire armored set and flowing blue mantle that he wore about the castle would’ve been too much to carry, too heavy. You needed to be able to move quickly, which was already proving difficult in the dense underbrush of the overgrown forest that he had escaped into, the leaves and low branches making your trek much noisier than you would have preferred. Dried twigs snapped under your boots, and every rustle from a night critter or chirps from various insects made you spin around with shoulders raised, terrified but ready to commit to the mission at hand- bring Captain Rex home.

You couldn’t believe it when only hours ago you witnessed the esteemed Captain fall into a frantic heap into the grass, a terrible aching cry ripping from his throat at the edge of town, the giant archway of the tall brick barrier that surrounded the village framing his crumpled body. He had been waiting for you, he had asked to meet under the light of the moon tonight while he was on break from patrol, just outside the town gates. You were about to run to the aid of your lover when something cold ran down your spine. An instinct to stop, stay out of sight- you’re unsure if it was the force of the raw wail or the way he seemed to be moving under his jacket...as if the muscles formed underneath his skin were realigning, morphing, writhing...growing.

You stood back, frozen, breathless. You couldn’t tear your widening eyes away. Especially when you saw the thick fabric of his pristine white coat begin to tear and rip, partially from the swelling of his form, but also shredding from the clawing of his shaking hands, as if the material were burning him and he needed it off as soon as possible. Underneath, instead of the tanned expanse of scarred skin you thought you knew so well, was a coating of shining blond hair, almost a soft golden in the glinting moonlight. His screaming had subsided, but you could still hear his rough, ragged, deep breathing, even from how far away you were. His grunting and groaning were painful, you could tell his throat was already scarring from the harmful strain of voice, and yet he still found it in himself to howl into the night sky, throwing his head back in a gruesome, bitter ballad to the full moon above you. As the furious sound waned from him, you could see his form slacken in relief. His breathing was heavy, laced with an outraged growling. He moved from being lurched over on his knees to gaining onto his haunches. Where you thought he would be shaky, you noticed him channeling whatever was left of himself into standing up with his signature battle-ready grace.

He stood tall, like usual...but with an extra two feet added to his height. The blond coating of, not hair, but thick, coarse fur, extended over his limbs, bristling in the cool of the night. His form not only stood taller, but also gave him a wider stance, even with hunched shoulders he was hulking, skin nearly ripping at the sudden growth. He rolled his neck and shoulders back, the sudden crack of settling bones finally bringing your lungs back to life as you took a gasping breath, a single stumbling step backwards- you were too loud. He whipped his head around to face you with a wild snarl, bounding to you, covering nearly two hundred meters in a matter of seconds. You shrieked, falling back onto the uneven cobblestone as he was suddenly on top of you, caging you beneath him in his new massive form, your heart hammering as whimpers stuttered past your quivering lips, his hot breath washing over your face, claws cracking into the hard rock next to your cheeks, threatening to cut at your hair.

His plush, bow-shaped lips curled over to showcase protruding fangs, mere inches away from your face as you flattened yourself against the cold hard ground, practically trying to will yourself beneath the surface before the unthinkable could happen. His face kept most of his shape, nose a little longer, a little pointed upwards, and jaw widened as if to take mauling bites out of anything- no, out of anyone. His normally cleanly shaven face was covered in the same fur as the rest of him, except for where his brows had been. The fur there was almost forming something like a dark mask, making a T-shape over his eyes and nose. All of this you could take in stride as he sniffed over you, you could stand any of this transformation as he kept you trapped below him, but it was his eyes that had you quaking.

His kind, honeyed stare, the irises that held such adoration and desire for you as you whispered promises of love and devotion to each other behind dark corners and between soft bed sheets- that was gone. No trace of your dearest paramour to be found. Instead it was a fiery golden gaze, a purely carnal type of hunger, and for what you couldn’t be sure. His pupils had shrunk into pinpoints, surveying you like a piece of meat, like a meal. He opened his mouth with a throaty growl, baring his teeth to you even more, craning down to your neck with thick saliva dripping from his maw. As his teeth skimmed over your flesh, just before they could pierce through, is when you finally found your voice, previously dammed from terror, choking out a broken, “Rex, please…”

He paused at his name. Holding over you, as still as the hanging moon, upright ear twitching in response to your begging. Your breath shakes in anticipation, tremors running through your otherwise petrified body. He rears his head back harshly, suddenly, letting out a grim bark, and you screw your eyes shut tight to brace for the searing pain of your ripping flesh...that never comes. After a thick moment of watching the synapses of nerves spark behind your eyelids, you blink them open, slowly shifting up onto trembling elbows just in time to see him disappear into the shadows of the trees.

You’re terrified.

You want to cry.

You don’t understand what’s happening, so you stay lying on the ground, curling in on yourself as you silently sob out his name. You roll to your side, letting fat tears stream down your face, throwing your hand over your mouth as you push out heaving breaths, seeing the sharply pierced stone next to your head, splintering cracks coming from each hole at the force with which they were made. You laid there for what felt like hours, alone, shaking, small under the laughing moon. Emotion wracked through you, storming through your mind and body until you were left rasping for precious oxygen, completely emptied of your tears, the streaks having marked their pathway down your cheeks and neck to under the collar of your shirt.

Something whispers at the back of your mind as you’re coming down from your rush, a suddenly clear vision of your childhood, your grandmother telling you stories of shapeshifting beasts. Simultaneously man and monster, both in body and soul. You had asked her before she tucked you into bed once, while you were throwing on the covers and trying to blink away fatigue to finish the tall tale, “Is there any way to change them back? Aren’t they still human under their fur?”

She looked wistful then, staring out the window of your bedside, looking up into the moon. A sensitive shine came across her gaze, delicately reflecting the candlelight as she spoke so quietly you had to strain to hear her, even in the hush of your bedroom.

“If there’s someone who loves the beast enough, despite knowing their cursed form, underneath the light of the stars they can present the fanged horror with clothes-”

“Clothes? Grandmere, that doesn’t sound very-”

“Very what? Extravagant? Magical?” she chuckled, a little broken, wiping away sitting tears on her lashes, “Child, love is the most magical thing in the world. If it’s love in the purest form, telling the beast to come home, it will leave it’s brutish whims behind and dutifully follow it’s love back to the safety of a warm bed.”

She touched the garish scar you knew hid under her blouse, drawing in a sharp, shaking breath as her fingers traced the marred pink flesh of her shoulder, “If it’s not true… they’ll leave you. They’ll lose their last bit of humanity in that moment. Make you wish you had spared the energy you’d used to find them to begin with.”

You crash back into reality, her warning sitting heavy in your mind. You finally sat up, still in the middle of the empty road, surrounded by the dark windows of closed shops showing you your ragged reflection. You dusted off, getting onto wobbling legs before stalking off towards the castle. More specifically, the soldiers’ dormitory.

If the memory held any truth, then you didn’t have much time. You had to find his brother.

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

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A Messed Up Place | Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A wedding and a surprise

Warnings: flooffy goodness :’)

“Professional” Notes: The last ever AMUP update is being posted on Bucky’s birthday — I feel like that’s appropriate, somehow. Also, this was supposed to be a short and sweet epilogue but whOOPS 4k words happened somehow. Self-discipline? Don’t know what that is, never heard of it. #noregrets

“Emotional” Notes: I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, I’m hysterical, I’m not ready for this gAAHHHH!!!!

I’m feeling like a bundle of raw emotions rn. A Messed Up Place has been a labour of love ever since October 12th, 2017, my 19th birthday and the day I posted the AMUP Prologue. Now, nearly 5 months later, it’s coming to its official end. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me throughout this journey — your reblogs, comments and reactions have truly meant the world to me. To share this story with you, to see all the love that has come out of it, to have had this story bring me closer to some of my faves…there are no words to describe how I’m feeling. Honestly. Thank you so much, all of you.

Also, I’m sorry I broke your hearts and made you cry — I hope it was worth it all in the end.

AMUP Masterlist

“My point is, I’ve known Tony for a long time,” says Rhodey. He pauses and cocks his head to the side, before barking out a short, dry laugh. “Actually, now that I think about it, it hasn’t been that long year-wise, but man, with the amount of sh—I mean…stuff he’s gotten himself into, it sure does feel a lot longer.”

As Rhodey takes a sip of his champagne, he catches Bucky’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and gives an almost imperceptible quirk of his eyebrows. Bucky flashes him an easy smile and gives him a subtle thumbs-up, showing his thanks for the quick save.

Steph’s at the age where she just adores repeating basically every word that she hears. The last thing Bucky needs is for the word ‘shit’ to be added to her repertoire of favourites, alongside ‘laun-de-reee’, ‘no’ and ‘cat dick’.

Though, with a room full of adults in various stages of tipsiness, not adding a swear word to Steph’s vocabulary is proving easier said than done. There have been a few too many close-calls tonight. Why did Bucky ever think that letting Steph stay for the reception was a good idea? Her sleep schedule’s going to be fucked up for the next week.

Bucky pauses, registering his train of thought. God, he’s such a dad.

“I remember when Tony was an insufferable know-it-all,” Rhodey continues, his voice drawing Bucky back to the present. “Oh wait — he still is an insufferable know-it-all.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Bucky and causes a titter of laughter to ripple through the room. Tony gives his best man an affronted look.

“Yeah, but I guess back in the day, he was a hundred times worse,” Rhodey amends, once the audience has settled again. “I mean, c’mon! He was schooling all of his professors in MIT! Gave a lecture of his own, at one point — after hijacking the lectern in true Tony fashion, of course.”

“I’ve watched him as he lived the life of a CEO playboy. I’ve seen him learn what responsibility is. I’ve seen him at the lowest of his low points and the peak of his high points. And I thought I’d seen all the parts of him there ever was to see — until he met you, Pepper.”

The customary wave of ‘aww’s’ sweep through the room. Bucky watches as Pepper — in an uncustomary public display of affection — scoots her chair closer to Tony’s and rests her cheek on his shoulder. Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair has started to fall out of her bun, curled tendrils hanging loosely around her face. Her cheeks have a rosy glow to them that match the happy glimmer in her eyes. She looks relaxed and in love and more at peace than she’s ever been — just like her new husband.

“You bring out a whole different side of him, Pep,” Rhodey says, the fondness evident in his tone. “He’ll deny this to his grave, I know, but you make him soft at heart. You’re good for him and hopefully — he’ll be good to you. May the both of you live a long life, have a healthy marriage and please, for the love of god, don’t let any of your kids get their hands on Tony’s suits. To the both of you,” he declares, raising his champagne flute with a grin on his face. Amidst waves of laughter, Bucky catches the toast being echoed by the rest of the wedding guests.

Bucky pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning on and walks back to the centre of the dance floor. He takes the mic off Rhodey as their paths cross, murmuring a quiet ‘well done’ as they brush shoulders. That’s the last speech of what has been an eventful night, filled with tears (of the happy sort), lots of laughter and two separate occasions of Tony nearly setting Pepper’s dress on fire.

But besides those instances of near-catastrophe, the whole affair has been rather low-key and chilled. It’s clear that Pepper’s done most of the wedding planning. The entire event is being held in the back gardens of the compound. An enormous marquee has been set up, with fairy lights, lanterns and all manner of flowers strung from the ceiling. There’s a dance floor on one end and tables taking up the rest of the space. Everything is pastel coloured and tastefully decorated.

It’s nice. Really nice.

“So, that marks the end of all the speeches we have lined up for tonight,” Bucky says, addressing the assembled crowd. He’s the MC of the reception, tasked with the trying job of facilitating seamless transitions between the nights’ entertainment.

Bucky’s really glad that his work is almost done.

“I’d just like to say a quick thank you, on behalf of our newly married couple, to everyone that’s made this event what it was. And to Tony and Pepper — I’m sure you’re sick of hearing this, by this point, but congratulations,” Bucky says sincerely, flashing the two of them a warm smile. Pepper returns the gesture and Tony nods his head in acknowledgement.

Just then, Bucky hears the tap-tap-tap of patent-leather shoes darting across the floor. He beams when he catches sight of his daughter rushing towards him at full speed, arms outstretched, fine blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders and chocolate cake smeared on her chin.

Typical, he sighs internally. Well, at least there’s no chocolate on her white dress.

As Stephanie runs to his side, Bucky crouches down to welcome her with open arms. He hoists her up in one smooth motion, perching her on his waist. She enthusiastically wraps her arms around his neck and flashes him a toothy grin.

“Hello gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Bucky spots you sitting beside Pepper and arches an eyebrow in your direction, before looking pointedly at Steph; a silent what’s she up to?

You shrug exaggeratedly, hands raised and palms facing outward. How the hell do I know?

“Daddy,” Steph whines, patting Bucky on the cheek to get his attention, “Wanna go dancing again.”

Bucky’s heart might just have melted a little. He ducks his head closer, “Almost done here, gorgeous, then we can go dancing again, okay?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Steph’s ear with each word. He smiles when she giggles and pushes his face away with her pudgy hands; his baby’s always had ticklish ears.

Steph leans back and puts her palm on his cheek, schooling her features into a more solemn expression. “Daddy, I haff something ‘portant to tell you,” she says seriously.

“Oh?” Bucky asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Okay, but is there something you want to say to Tony and Pepper first, gorgeous?”

Stephanie seems to think about it for a minute, brows drawing together and lips pursing as if she’s sucked on a lemon. When it clicks, she claps her hands excitedly as an exuberant grin spreads across her face.

“Yeah!” she cries, making grabby hands for the mic, “I gotta say something!”

Bucky chuckles, holding the mic closer to her mouth. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says.

Steph twists around so that she’s beaming brightly at the crowd of expectant faces. As the one and only flower girl in attendance, over the course of the night, Steph seems to have won over the hearts of everyone present.

Who can blame them, really?

Bucky catches sight of you, sitting in between Wanda and Pepper, watching your daughter with a bemused smile on your face. You’ve got your chin propped up on one hand, a glass of water poised at your lips. You meet Bucky’s gaze and flash him a cheeky wink, just as you take a sip.

“Ev’body? I’m gonna be a biiiiiig sistah!” Steph announces proudly.

What?

It’s lucky that Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, because your reaction to Steph’s revelation is priceless. You choke on your mouthful of water and burst into a coughing fit. Wanda turns towards you to thump your back, whilst simultaneously shooting Bucky an is this for real? expression. Pepper and Tony have bolted upright, their haze of marital bliss disrupted by the commotion. Natasha and Sam look like they’ve gone into shock, and everyone else’s gaze is focused on Stephanie, who is seemingly unaware of what she’s just done.

A stunned hush descends over the room.

“Uhm,” Bucky mutters weakly. He clears his throat and shifts Stephanie on his hip. “Uhh—gorgeous…I think you had something else you wanted to say to Tony and Pepper, right?” he asks. “Remember? You were practicing it this morning?”

Stephanie cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Oh! Oh, con…gra…chu…lay…shuns?” she says slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, his voice strained. “Yeah, um…why don’t you go sit back down with Aunty Nat, gorgeous, and let Daddy finish this off?” he suggests. Steph nods agreeably. Bucky sets her down and watches as she toddles off towards the head table, where Natasha is holding a hand out for her. Bucky runs his metal hand through his hair and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay, well…um,” he starts, “I—guess there’s not much more for me to say. Congratulations, Tony and Pepper. May you have a good marriage and all that.”

He’s pretty sure his words fall on deaf ears. As Bucky hands the mic back to the DJ hovering at the back of the dance floor, he spies you hurriedly weaving through the tables and slipping out of the marquee via one of the side flaps. Sam shoots Bucky a pointed look and jerks his head in your direction; a clear go after her, dude. Steph seems to be well-occupied by Natasha for the moment, and so, silently praying that his daughter isn’t going to start spouting out more secrets, Bucky quickly dashes after you.

When he steps outside, Bucky discovers that the twilight hour has come and gone. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Bucky spins around in a circle, trying to find you. He spots you sitting on the concrete steps leading into the main building, your elbows on your knees, hands clasped in front of you and forehead pressed against your wrists. He sighs, slowly walking towards you, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his crisp white shirt as he goes. Bucky plops himself down a couple of steps below you, body angled in your direction.

“She’s only three,” you say weakly, not bothering to lift your head up to acknowledge him. “What did I expect? Ugh, our daughter is terrible at keeping secrets.”

Bucky’s heart does an excited little flutter. “So she was serious?” he croaks out.

You drop your hands. Your mascara’s smudged underneath your eyes and most of your lipstick has rubbed off, this late in the day. But, you’ve still got a smile on your face and to Bucky, you look as beautiful as ever.

“I found out a few days ago,” you admit quietly, “Realised that my period was late and took a test.” You laugh softly, “Got the shock of my life when I saw it was positive.”

Bucky inhales sharply.

“I thought it’d be a nice to have Steph tell you the news,” you continue, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his. “I’ve been practicing it with her and—,” you break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Fuck, why did I ever think that was a good idea? Now everyone knows that I’m pregnant and I wanted to tell you first in private before—and, and now—,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky interjects, pushing himself onto his knees and catching your wrists in his hands. He pulls them to his chest, ignoring your weak protests, leaving you unable to hide your face from him. When you tilt your chin upwards, Bucky sees the glimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. The watery smile on your lips tells him that they’re not tears of sadness, though. In this moment, Bucky feels like there’s a gurgling pressure behind his sternum, a bubbling spring of emotions itching to spew free.

“For real, princess?” he asks quietly, barely able to contain himself.

You laugh breathlessly, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy. “Yeah, honey. Really.”

Bucky swallows, then leans in close until his forehead is resting against yours, until his nose brushes your cheek and your breath ghosts over his face. You slip a hand out of his grip and curl it around the back of his neck, fingers combing through his ponytail.

“Tell me again, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, thick with tears. With your palm pressed to his chest, he has no doubt that you can feel the mad thumping of his heart. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your hand on the back of his neck tightens its grip. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

Bucky lets out a half-sob, body surging forward to crash his lips against yours. Inside his chest, he feels the dam burst, allowing a tsunami wave of emotions to course through his system. The kiss is heated and sweet and meaningful, all that same time. His brain is spinning, his body is floating, his heart is soaring, his soul is singing. He’s overcome with feelings and he just—he can’t put any of them into words.

“Sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, brokenly. It’s the only word his brain can think of right now. Fuck—he has so many things to tell you. I can’t believe it, he wants to say. I’m terrified, maybe. I’m so fucking happy. I love you so much. “I—oh my god—,”

“I know,” you say fervently, meeting his lips for another urgent kiss, “I know.”

And perhaps, he just doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe you’ve heard all those unsaid words anyway. Maybe, after all this time, you just know.

“Again,” Bucky demands, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other arm encircling your waist. He darts in for another kiss — fuck he never wants to stop kissing you, ever — as he leans forward, forcing you to brace your elbows against the step above the one you’re sitting on. “Tell me again,” he begs, gently nipping your bottom lip as he pulls back to look at you.

He takes in your kiss-bitten lips, your darkened eyes and your messy hair. You curl your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, just as your lips curl into a private smile, for his eyes only. “I’m pregnant,” you repeat, your voice quiet, sincere.

Bucky drops down again, brushing his lips against yours. “I love you so much,” he says, in between kisses, “So fucking much, you know that?”.

“Love you too,” you reply, throwing your arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

Where words fail, actions speak.

Bucky pours every ounce of love surging through his body into every press of his lips, desperately hoping that each kiss is enough to telegraph the extent of his emotions. Words are not enough, actions are not enough — he wants you to know how he’s feeling so bad. His world is shaken by this news — for better, for worse, who knows?

The only certainty he’s holding onto right now is you.

Bucky blankets your body with his, moulding his body to yours and wishing he could do the same to your souls. He kisses you and tastes the salt of your tears, the mint on your tongue. He feels the hammering of your heart, hears your barely-audible sighs and greedily drinks in the exultant joy radiating out of every fibre of your being.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, cradling the back of your neck with his flesh hand and pulling your mouth closer, kissing your lips like you’re the oxygen that Bucky has been starving for. And maybe that is what you are, Bucky thinks desperately, a fleeting thought in his dizzy mind. Maybe you’ve been his oxygen all this while. Because it’d certainly felt like an agonisingly slow death, enduring all those months without you.

The two of you lose time like that, sprawled out on the steps, tangled in each others arms, rucking up your fancy clothes. You trade kisses and soft touches, murmured promises and meaningful stares. There’s a simmering heat in his belly that Bucky could turn into something more if he stoked the fire and gave it some attention, but for now — this is enough.

From somewhere on his left, someone clears their throat obnoxiously.

Bucky startles, quickly rolling off you as he reaches for the knife strapped to his left calf. When he sees who it is, he allows his posture to relax, although a hot rush of embarrassment does race through his veins.

“If we’d walked out a second later, I’m fairly certain we’d’ve stumbled across you two defiling our porch steps,” Tony remarks dryly.

Pepper gently elbows him in the side. “Tony!” she chastises, “Be nice.”

“Sorry, darling,” Tony says quickly. Bucky doesn’t miss the dopey look he shoots in her direction.

Seriously. Were you and Bucky ever this bad?

Bucky glances down at the gold ring welded onto his metal ring finger, casts his mind back to a warm summer’s day on the beach, sun on his face, sand between his toes, his arms around your waist and thinks no — the two of you were worse.

“Anyway,” Tony drawls, “I must say, your daughter sure does have a knack for dramatic timing.”

“He did learn from the best,” Pepper comments sarcastically, giving him the side-eye. Tony squawks in protest.

“Tony—Pepper, I’m so, so sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up and brushing you skirt back into place. “I—I really didn’t mean to steal your thunder, or anything like that, I swear, it was—,”

Pepper holds a hand up to silence you, a benevolent smile on her lips. “No harm done, Y/N,” she says reassuringly, “Really, we mean it. Yes, it was quite the shock, but—that just makes the night more memorable, no? We’re not mad, honestly.”

Tony snorts. “Speak for yourself,” he grumbles. “Sorry, sorry,” he adds hastily, when Pepper narrows her eyes into a murderous glare. Turning his focus back to the two of you, he clears his throat and says, “Congratulations, and all that good stuff, I suppose.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Yes, congratulations, you two,” she says emphatically. “And technically, it is past midnight, so you didn’t really steal our thunder.”

You make a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a groan. “I’m never going to forgive her for this,” you mutter darkly, “There goes her Stark tablet privileges for the week!”

“You say that, but you know she’ll just do something to make you forgive her in the next day,” Bucky points out. “Kid’s got us wrapped around her finger.”

With a resigned, full-bodied sigh, you slump against Bucky’s side. “It’s the thought that counts,” you say morosely.

“Well, I think we’ll leave you two to rejoice in peace,” Tony says decisively, pivoting on his heel and striding back to the party. “Just don’t traumatise any of our guests when they come out here!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Tony,” Pepper says, in a voice that is both fond and exasperated. To the two of you, she adds, “Seriously, no offence taken. I’ll make sure that Nat’s keeping an eye on Stephanie.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Bucky says, as Pepper glides off towards her husband, her periwinkle blue wedding dress swishing with each step.

The two of you sit in silence, watching as Tony and Pepper slip back into the marquee, hand-in-hand. When the coast is clear, you peel yourself away from Bucky’s side and climb into his lap. Bucky chuckles in surprise, but plants his feet flat on the step below, allowing you to straddle his thighs.

You pay no attention to the fact that your skirt has bunched up in your lap, nor to the fact that someone from the reception could stumble out and see you two at any second. Bucky rests his hands on your waist and tips his head back to look at you, awestruck by the reality of the situation and the enormity of this new adventure.

“How the hell are we gonna manage with two little ones?” he asks quietly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your hipbones. “We can barely get by with just Steph!”

You throw your head back and laugh, drawing Bucky’s attention to the elegant column of your neck. Compelled, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, letting his lips linger for a while. You hum softly, looping your arms over his shoulders and scooting forward a little, so that your chest is pressed against his.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” you murmur, “Things always seem to have a way of working out.”

When your lips finally meet, the kiss is tender — languid and lazy, like a sluggish breeze on a sweltering hot day. Bucky’s arms tighten around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair, his metal hand tracing patterns across the skin of your bare back. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and swallows your breathy sigh. You mouth opens so easily for him and before long, he finds you rolling your hips against his in slow, sinuous motions.

Bucky’s mouths a trail of wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck, coming to a stop above your pulse point. He feels your thrumming heartbeat against his lips, seemingly beating in time with his own heart.

“D’you think it’s okay if we ask Nat and Sam to take Steph for the night?” he asks, only half-joking, “Y’know. For celebration purposes.”

He feels the rumble of your laughter vibrate through his chest. “Bucky,” you giggle.

“What?”

“No,” you say. Bucky’s fairly certain he heard your eyes rolling, that time.

“Aw—c’mon, honey—,”

“No,” you repeat firmly. Before he can protest further, you cup Bucky’s jaw in your hands, tilting his head back until he meets your eyes.

Your hair is disheveled, falling around your face in messy strands. There’s a gleaming brightness in your eyes that makes the marquee lights behind you seem pale in comparison. You brush your thumb across Bucky’s stubbled jaw, an absentminded smile playing on your lips. “Not tonight, at least,” you tell him.

Bucky swallows, reaches his flesh hand up to catch your wrist. He turns his face to the side and presses his lips to the heel of your palm, registers your sharp intake of breath. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise,” he murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and lean forward, nosing a path down his cheek. Bucky turns his head and finds your mouth again, pressing his lips against yours in slow, unhurried movements.

“Tell me again,” Bucky whispers, as his flesh hand comes to rest on top of your belly.

You rest your hands on top of his, before swallowing audibly. You hold his gaze, your eyes bright with sudden tears, a pure and hopeful smile on your lips.

“I’m pregnant, sweetheart. We’re gonna have another baby.”

Bucky thinks he’ll never be as happy as he is right now, sitting on some concrete steps with you in his arms, stealing kisses from your lips whilst the sounds of laughter and upbeat music float across the gardens.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months later, on Steph’s fourth birthday, when he sees the look of delight on his baby’s face as she sets eyes on her unicorn-themed birthday cake. They’re surrounded by their super-family, a collection of opened presents and shredded wrapping paper littering the floor of the common room. Stephanie manages to get pink frosting all over her face, making Bucky laugh until his cheeks are sore. You try to keep the smile from spreading across your face, but it’s a futile effort when you have a daughter as sweet as Steph.

You have a hand resting protectively on top of your burgeoning belly, and the sight only serves to make Bucky’s heart swell a little more.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months after that, as he cradles his son in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he makes his way over to your side of the bed. You take him from Bucky, cooing softly as you stroke your knuckle over his chubby cheeks. Steph, perched on your other side, peers at the baby curiously, as if trying to decide what to make of her little brother. Warily, tentatively, she brushes her index finger over his pudgy fist, gasping in surprise when he wraps his little fingers around it and holds on tight.

“I think I could love him,” she whispers.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few years down the line, as the two of you bring in the last of the boxes and set them on the kitchen counter. The house is a mess, the kids are wreaking their usual havoc and the last thing he wants to do is walk up a flight of stairs to check on them. Both of you are gross and sweaty, but Bucky loops his arms around you and pulls you close nonetheless, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips. Moving in has been stressful and exciting, to say the least, but Bucky is eager to start writing this new chapter in your lives. He can’t wait to fill these walls with memories and make this house a place to call home.

Unable to fight the grin spreading across his face, Bucky picks you up and swings you around in a circle. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he breathes.

Bucky loses track of how many times he stands corrected, as the years go by. Day after day, he smiles until his cheeks hurt and laughs until his sides ache. The years are filled with birthdays and babies, missions and milestones, ups and downs. He watches his children go to school, grow up, get married, have lives — take on the world like they were made of gold dust and vibranium.

“What a life, huh sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly, as another chapter comes to its end.

Time has a funny way of slipping by in the blink of an eye, he’s noticed. Many things have changed over the years, but the one faithful, unshakeable constant he’s held onto is his love for you.

Bucky thinks of this as the two of you lie tangled up on the sofa, your body slotted between Bucky’s legs, your cheek pressed to his chest and his chin resting on top of your head.

“Yeah, honey. What a life,” you murmur, as you slip your fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt, splaying them across the small of his back. “A crazy, wild, tumultuous, messy life.”

You pause to pull away from him, sitting up a little and craning your head back to look into his eyes. “But worth it all?” you ask.

Bucky grins, feels that joyous fluttering in his heart as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. “Yeah, my gorgeous. It’s all been worth it.”

End A/N: Am I bawling my eyes out? You betcha :’)))

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky imagi #my writing #a messed up place

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cas-backwards-tie · 6 years

Text

One More Chance Prologue

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Considering the unwelcoming circumstances you’ve been dealt while gone, you decide to make a new life for yourself, however, your family doesn’t approve.

Warnings: Sobbing, Angst, Self-Hate and Destruction, Abandonment.

Catch Up Here: Series Masterlist

A/N: This is being posted as something to tide you guys over until I finish this series, but hopefully this excite you enough. Unfortunately, I had to go back and edit this somewhat heavily as it had references to things that will come later in the story, and I just couldn’t have that. Haha, spoilers xD nope, there will be none of those.

“Thank you for everything, I’m forever indebted to you.” I remove my hand from her shoulder, turning to the direction I know the house is in.

“I owed him a favor, and now the tides have turned once more... I wish you peace of mind as you transition back to the life you once lived. This is a task which would be hard for anyone Y/N, and there’s still time to turn back and redecide.”

“No. I’m ready.” I square my shoulders and stretch my neck, ready to take on what I’ve been training towards for the past six months. “Do you wish for me to send your regards?” I turn my head back towards her, the scarves wrapped around her figure whipping in the wind behind her; the wind atop a skyscraper is always fierce with its strength.

“I think it’d be best not to, for it might only upset Damian more... but, if I could ask only one favor of you it would be to care for my son in the ways I cannot.”

I nod my head, bowing slightly. “Of course Mistress Talia.” The wind begins to whip harder, a telling sign of an oncoming storm. “I must go now.”

“Yes, before the storm strikes... it’d be wise. Perhaps I shall see you once more Y/N, hopefully in a better circumstance than what had brought us together this time.” Nodding, I understand her words and wish nothing more than the same.

“Perhaps.” Running to the edge of the roof, I hop from rooftop to the next until I reach the edge of the city. Eventually reaching the woods, I continue to hop throughout the treetops till I find myself exhausted from the thoughts racing through my head, the mental strain of nearing the mirage of a life I once knew.

Unwrapping the scarf from around my head, hoping to spy what my family might be up to before I reacquaint myself with them. Glancing over the vast windows of the Manor, only a few on the first floor appear to be lit up and brewing with activity.

Walking up to the living room window, there’s movement. Peering through the glass, lightning strikes in the distance. A familiar figment of my once life was appearing before me. Happy family; Bruce sat on the couch, laughing at our sons with his arm wrapped around a woman. Damian obviously had drawn some sort of Pictionary clue very different from what had probably been on the card as a clue, he stood at the drawing board very confused and dumbfounded. Dick, Jason, and Tim were huddled over beside themselves laughing at the scenario: mocking their brother for his picture, a muddled mind which didn’t see anything wrong with what was drawn upon the board.

Sighing, I feel my heart wrench. They were... happy. Despite my expectations, they were happy without me; they didn’t need me any longer, as it appeared. Playing games with someone god knows Damian would mock only as a stranger. Laughing wholeheartedly as a unit, Tim could only dream of. Bruce intertwined with another woman, his wedding band obviously gone as there was not even an indent present on his finger... they were happy... even with you gone.

The thought brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t matter. They didn’t care. It’d been six months and after all the hard work you’d put in, dreaming of your return and seeing their precious faces light up, the faces so dear to your heart... it was demolished. As lightning struck again, followed by a rumble of thunder and a sudden heavy downpour, you race away from the window, heart beating rapidly. You don’t know where to go, you don’t know what to do. Your life, your family, your friends... it’s gone. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run and hide. They didn’t love you so why should you love them!

All you had now was Talia. You had to be grateful for her and that fate just so happened to have it that she owed Bruce a favor, for if not, you’d have nothing. You openly sobbed, falling to your knees, cradling yourself.

Once you felt your robes start to stick to your skin, you knew it was time to head out. There was nowhere to go, and yet, you now felt some sort of hope in it; you have the ability to start over. You can live anew, start anew and make something of yourself this time. There is no going back... you wouldn’t have that. You could not be the person you once were, and you did not want to be seen as her. You were very different in personality, mentality, and physique... yet you were also the same. It seemed you couldn’t change everything about yourself, no matter how hard you tried.

You had one more chance at life... and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x ExWife!Reader #Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader #Talia Al Ghul #League Of Assassins #LOA!Reader #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Damian Wayne Al Ghul #Damian Al Ghul #DC Comics Series #DC Series #Bruce Wayne Series #DC Comics Imagine #DC Comics Reader Insert #DC Reader Insert

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sgtcalhouns · 6 years

Text

Surprise, pt. 2

hello hello hello! remember this sad thing I posted a few weeks ago? well here’s part two! (although this is technically a prequel). this one is even sadder than the first installment, sorry guys

Felix shifted in bed, rolling onto his side and cracking his eyes open. His lips stretched into a sleepy smile as he looked at the woman sleeping on the other side of the bed and the diamond ring that newly adorned her finger. Unable to stop himself, he reached out for her hand, his thumb gently fidgeting with the ring and his chest filling warmth as he recalled the previous night when he had asked her to marry him. The moment played over and over again in his mind, each time adding a new layer of honeyglow to his cheeks.

Gazing at this beautiful woman who had somehow appeared in his life and, even more amazingly, agreed to spend her life with him, Felix pondered how it was even possible to be this happy. No matter what happened, he was certain that nothing could erase the happiness he felt right now. Leaning in closer, Felix brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles and then her ring finger. She stirred and Felix cursed himself for waking her.

“G’morning,” she mumbled sleepily. Noting the redness in his cheeks, she chuckled. “What’s got you blushing this early?”

“Oh, I was just thinkin’ about last night,” he sighed, a dreamy expression overtaking his features. He laced their fingers together. “How much I love you n’ how I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tamora smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. Normally, she would roll her eyes at a comment like that, but she refused to deny herself the happiness she felt in that moment. She leaned in closer for a sweet kiss that had him blushing even more deeply than before.

“I love you, too,” she said when they pulled away.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said.

“Believe what?” she asked amusedly. She had a feeling he was about to give an overly sentimental response.

“That you said yes,” he said, a dopey grin on his face. “That I get to wake up with you like this every morning. It all feels like a dream.”

“Want me to pinch you?” she teased.

“No,” he answered. “If it really is a dream, then I never wanna wake up.”

“How is it possible for one person to be so cute?” she groaned, placing her hand on his cheek.

“Well, I’ve always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, but you sure know how to bring it out in me,” he said. “D’you think I should tone it down?”

“Never,” she smiled, pulling him in for another kiss, this one more slow and languid than the last. It felt as though the kiss could have stretched on forever until Tamora’s stomach growled, interrupting the moment.

“Someone’s hungry,” Felix chuckled.

“To be fair, I never finished my dinner last night,” she smirked. “We got a little preoccupied after you proposed.”

Felix’s cheeks darkened at the memory.

“Well, since I caused the problem, I suppose I can fix it,” he teased. “How about I whip us up some breakfast?”

Tamora nodded in response. Felix gave her a quick peck on the lips before moving to get out of bed.

“Would you mind runnin’ down to the mailbox while I make breakfast?” he asked. “I usually check it on Fridays, but I was so busy trying to calm my nerves all day that I didn’t make it there yesterday.”

“Well, I suppose since I caused that problem, I can fix it,” she replied, sitting up.

They both dressed quickly and got to their tasks. By the time Tamora returned from the lobby, Felix was nearly finished cooking. Taking a seat on the couch, she opened an envelope addressed to her. Scanning the content of the letter, she froze, panic and dread flooding her system.

“Anything good in the mail?” Felix asked, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind him on the couch. “The bacon’s not quite ready yet, but the french toast is fresh for the taking.”

His words sounded far away to Tamora as she read and re-read the letter, hoping to find some small detail that changed its meaning. Glancing over his shoulder, Felix continued.

“I wasn’t sure how hungry you were so I also made an omelet,” he explained. “Thought you could use a little extra protein to start your... Tamora, are you alright?”

He quickly turned the stove off and left the kitchen, concern etched onto his features as he finally noticed his fiancee’s state of distress. Sitting beside her on the couch, he tried to get a read on her emotions. She was clearly upset, but she didn’t appear to be lost in the painful memories of her past like she usually was during an anxiety attack. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her fog.

“Tammy, what’s going on?”

“This was in the mail,” she answered quietly, passing the letter to Felix.

His heart dropped, his world crashing down around him as he began to understand her unhappiness. He couldn’t even bring himself to read the entire thing, the bolded header being more than enough to tear his heart in two: ORDER OF DEPLOYMENT.

“When do you have to leave?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Two weeks,” she replied.

Felix choked back a sob, trying to stay composed. As hard as this was for him, he knew it was even harder for Tamora.

“For how long?” he asked, unable to stop the tears from pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Eight months, at least,” she said, looking down at the floor instead of Felix. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, knowing she had caused this misery.

“But we’re supposed to get married,” he whimpered. “We’re supposed to spend the next eight months choosing flowers and venues and bickering over the guest list. We’re not supposed to be apart from each other, we’re...”

Tamora placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his eyes up toward hers. Her somber expression and the tears that welled up in her eyes finally broke him. He began to cry, placing his hand over hers, her engagement ring brushing against his palm.

“We’re supposed to be together,” he finished, his voice thick.

“I know,” she said softly, trying to hold her own tears at bay. “Felix, I can’t do this to you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I can’t leave you here like this waiting for me to come back. It’s not fair to you,” she answered, removing her hand from his cheek and beginning to remove the ring from her finger. “That’s why I’m giving this back to you.”

“No,” Felix interjected, taking her hands in his and gently prying them away from one another, stopping her from finishing her task. “You can’t do this, I won’t let you.”

“Felix, I know what it feels like to miss someone, I can’t put you through that,” she explained, her voice strained. It clearly pained her to do this, but she felt certain that it had to be done. “What if something happens to me and I don’t make--”

“Don’t,” Felix interrupted somewhat harshly. “Don’t finish that sentence. I can’t hear you say it, I can’t even think about...”

He trailed off, overcome with emotion at the thought of any harm coming to her. The thought that she could get hurt on the other side of the world and he could do nothing to protect her was unbearable. Taking a moment to compose himself, Felix continued.

“I know you’re tryin’ to protect me, but what you don’t realize is that I’ll be here waiting for you no matter what you do right now,” he said. “If you give this ring back to me today, I’ll still be here waiting to give it back to you the minute you come home.”

“I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into,” she tried to explain.

“Tammy, last night I told you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. There’s no way I’m givin’ up on that so quickly,” he said solemnly. “Bein’ away from you for so long is gonna be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do, but I know it’ll be worth it. You are worth it.”

Tamora begrudgingly nodded, giving up the fight. As much as she wanted to protect him, his determination to be with her made her fall even more deeply in love with him.

“It’s only eight months,” Felix said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Tamora. “And then you’re coming home and we’re getting married. Promise?”

“Promise,” Tamora replied, pulling him into her embrace, knowing there was no way for her to guarantee that she could keep her promise.

Looking down at the man in her arms, she resolved to do whatever it took to survive the next eight months. She couldn’t let Felix down.

She was coming home to him, no matter what.

#hero's cuties #wir fanfiction #sgt calhoun #fix it felix jr #my fic #i just felt like sad fluff idk

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