#ymah

[misshoneybee]

⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑋𝐼𝐼. 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝐼𝑆 𝐴𝑁 𝐼𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐻𝐴𝑃𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑌𝑂𝑈

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XI — Chapter XIII

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, smut (light dom/sub, voyeurism via reflection, fingering, oral sex (f-rec), dirty talk, p in v sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, light overstimulation, slight dumbification, praise kink)

❧ Wordcount | ~7.7k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me Flashback to my mistakes, My rebounds, my earthquakes, Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me ( Dress | Reputation )

June 22, 2024

There was just something about crowds that seemed to put Maggie on edge. Maybe it was anxiety, maybe it was the way that she’d gotten used to the world being such a quiet place, but either way, she was getting tired of feeling like she needed to return home as soon as she stepped one foot outside the five-block radius of her apartment that she’d deemed her comfort zone. And going somewhere, aside from work, that required a ferry or the subway? It felt impossible.

But perhaps, the location itself was what was making Maggie feel like she needed to be promptly medicated. She hadn’t been to Coney Island in five years—not since that late summer day when Steve had wanted to show her around the landmark as they danced around their feelings for one another. That one day had changed everything and when she’d accepted Bucky’s impromptu invitation, she should have realized how difficult it would be to return to what was once some kind of holy ground in her mind.

As Bucky had pointed out odds and ends and rattled off old facts, Maggie felt like her ears were filled with water; it was like she’d jumped right into the Coney Island Channel, gotten caught in the rip current below the surface, and was getting swept out to sea before she could even locate shore. There was so much pressure in her head, and everything sounded muffled because, at every turn, it felt as though she was retracing the exact steps she’d taken with Steve on the very same boardwalk.

Knowing his friend, Bucky had plied her with the promise of food that morning and had made good on it as soon as they’d arrived. Oil had seeped into the fibers of the thin, paper plate in her hand, weakening its integrity and making it flimsier than it was to begin with. Carefully, she tore off another piece of the fried mass of dough that had been coated in mounds of powdered sugar and popped it in her mouth. Like a less attractive relative of the mouthwatering beignet that she’d tried in Louisiana, it still scratched the itch.

As she glanced over at him while he continued talking about some little attraction that they’d just walked past, he paused with a little smile as he looked at her. The wide brown eyes he’d gotten to know so well were attentive but a sheer, white streak of powdered sugar dusted on her lips caught his attention and he couldn’t rid himself of the urge that he suddenly had.

“Doll, you got—” Chuckling, Bucky cupped her face tenderly, “C’mere…”

Thankfully, both of Maggie’s hands were occupied when he caught her lips in a short kiss—if they’d been free, there was a high probability that they would have flailed a bit in surprise. It was sweet, the feeling and the taste of sugar on her lips, and slow. Though it wasn’t as if it was their first kiss—not by a long shot—it was the first time he’d ever kissed her in public and it sent her head spinning.

“Bucky!” Maggie chastised softly with rosy cheeks as he pulled away, a charming grin making him look boyishly handsome as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Mm, you’re right.” Tearing off a piece of the funnel cake, he popped it in his mouth and gave her a little wink, “It is good.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help the way that she looked around to ensure that their little moment had gone unnoticed. They were a secret…although, it wasn’t as if she’d told him that. It was an unspoken thing; but it wasn’t like she was ashamed of Bucky—not at all. She’d never want him to think that. No, there was just something about someone else knowing that made things feel real. And when things felt real, they hurt a lot more when they eventually ended.

A tall, rectangular box-structure behind Bucky caught her eye and any hint of a smile that had been on her face, slid away in an instant. After all this time, the little booth still looked the same—the blue lacquer on the outside with painted filmstrips had been bleached by the sun and weathered by storms, the heavy black velour curtain that separated the interior from the world around it hung limply from the rings on a small bar.

One of the millions of filmstrips that it had produced over the years was in her nightstand at home, another had been carried through space and time, across the universe and back into the past. That photobooth had ended a relationship that broke her heart and began another that eventually did the same in the end. And there it was, just silently standing as if it were a monument to all of her heartbreak, a piece of some modern-day Stonehenge that had been erected to taunt her.

“Do you want to get some pictures?” Bucky’s line of sight had followed hers to the box that advertised ’30-second photos.’

“No!” Her refusal came far too quickly, and his expression turned mildly suspicious, but she had a feeling that climbing into that photobooth would be like taping over an old video cassette; it would muddle the memories and destroy the old ones and she didn’t want to do that. As it was already, her presence at the amusement park, alone, made her feel like she was trying to replicate, or even replace, a moment that she’d shared with Steve.

Taking a breath, she added, “I mean, I just…would rather look around some more. Maybe later.” Linking her arm through his, Maggie pulled him along and continued past the old photobooth though it took everything inside of her not to turn around and stare because maybe if she looked long enough, she could have seen five years earlier, when things were easier and she was happier, but she couldn’t keep allowing herself to slip into the past.

It hurt far too badly.

Changing the subject quickly, she watched as a group of giggling kids disembarked some thrill ride, “When everyone was gone, this place mostly shut down, you know? It was empty and everything was out of order. It was kind of creepy.”

“Now, it reminds me of when I was a kid.” Bucky sighed with a nostalgic smile as he took in the sight. Sure, nowadays there were screens everywhere and the music was more electronic, but the bones were still the same. A newly repainted, yellow sign caught his eye and he let out a low, impressed whistle, “I can’t believe this thing is still standing. It has to be a hundred years old.”

Squeezing his arm, Maggie asked innocently, “What, like you?”

“Brat.” Cutting his eyes at her, he took the last piece of funnel cake and bit into it with a playfully spiteful grin and Maggie pouted, tossing the white plate into the trash, and brushing the residual sugar from her hands. Speaking through the bite, he nodded towards the advertised ‘Wonder Wheel,’ “Want to give it a shot?”

Maggie had to crane her neck back to look at the towering ride; it was a massive Ferris wheel made from green, crisscrossing metal and red spokes that led out to multicolor cabins for the passengers inside. The ones on the outside of wheel were stationary as they made the slow rotation but the smaller ones within swung back and forth threateningly with the breeze; the movement made her nauseous to even imagine.

Screaming from only a few hundred feet away caught her attention and she peered over her shoulder slowly; the rickety, white, wooden rollercoaster that Bucky had been teasing her about all morning looked like it was on its last leg. It seemed to be some kind of a lose-lose situation. Grimacing, she turned back to her neighbor and bartered, “If I do, does that mean I don’t have to ride the Cyclone later?”

“Deal.” He offered a hand, and she accepted his terms with a handshake and a decisive nod. At least the Wonder Wheel looked semi-stable, not accounting for the swinging cars that she kept an apprehensive eye on; she could only hope they were purposeful and by design rather than a mechanical failure.

The teenager that closed and latched the metal door behind Bucky, sealing he and Maggie within one of the small passenger cabins, somehow looked less than uninterested in his work. Had he even done the proper safety checks? What if the door swung open while they were hundreds of feet in the air? Or if the car detached from the wheel and plummeted to the ground? Were there safety mechanisms in place? When was the last time someone had inspected the old ride?

A creaking sound drowned out the cheery carnival music that was pumped through the park’s speakers and she gripped the metal handle beside her, turning her knuckles white as they slowly began their ascent. The music grew distant, and she was soon left with only the sound of her own heart beating thrumming in her ears. Bucky’s arm casually rested on the back of their bench seat while he placidly took in the sight of everything growing smaller on the ground below them.

Counting each excruciating second of her inhales and exhales, Maggie silently forced her heartrate to slow. Ever since she was a child, she’d never been too fond of heights in certain capacities. Once, on a family trip to Chicago sometime in the late nineties, Phillip Hall had needed to carry his six-year-old daughter across the glass floor of the Sears Tower when she’d been paralyzed with fear after reading that the ground was more than a thousand feet below where they were standing.

She flew relatively often but, for some reason, planes were fine—they were regulated and, as long as she didn’t look out the window during take-off, she could pretend that they hadn’t actually left the ground, so it didn’t matter. But amusement park rides and glass floors and the mere idea of something like parasailing or riding in a hot air balloon? They made her break into a cold sweat and were typically out of the question.

There was just something so disconcerting about not having her feet on the ground; she’d never been one to have her head in the clouds, physically or metaphorically. Feeling the burn of Bucky’s always intense gaze, she cracked an eye open to chance a look at him and hesitantly admitted, “Have I ever told you that I don’t really like heights?”

“Then why the hell did you agree!?” She could hear the exasperation that tinted his tone as he stared incredulously at the woman crammed into the small seat beside him.

With a huff, as if it was obvious, Maggie finally opened her eyes, carefully staring at him so she didn’t look down, as she shot back weakly, “Because you wanted to ride it!”

“You could have just told me that you’re afraid of heights. Jesus, Mags.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he peeked out through caged metal to check the ride’s progress as they slowly continued their trip up to the top of the wheel.

With a little sniff, she started, “I’m not—” An eerie creak from the aging metal monster took the remaining words from her mouth and suddenly she was glued to his side with shaking hands. The glimmer of amusement was unhindered in his eyes as she grumbled lowly, “Shut up.”

“You’re too stubborn.” The words that should have been biting were, instead, affectionate. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder as the cabin came to a stop at the wheel’s apex, Bucky trailed his thumb back and forth over her bare shoulder. After all this time, he felt like he knew so much about the woman, but small things like everyday fears or favorite colors just seemed to go unmentioned. “Just a few more minutes, then we can get off.” Giving her a squeeze, he added teasingly, “And I won’t make you ride the cyclone either. Promise.”

“My hero.” Her disdainful words were dry. It felt as though they’d been stationary for an hour though it had been less than a minute as she muttered, “We’re in a tin can, in the summer heat, two hundred feet in the air, and—”

“We aren’t that high up.” He chimed in, peering down at her.

“Well, that’s how it feels.” Maggie protested, sitting so incredibly still as to not let their little car move. All she wanted was to relax into Bucky, but every muscle was almost painfully tensed, “I hate this.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she could feel the word vomit swelling beneath the surface. When Maggie got stressed, she had two defaults: complete silence and nonstop talking, and it seemed as though the latter was what was coming. Maybe it was due to the close quarters and the need to fill the silence, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I lied.”

Brow furrowed, he watched her worry her bottom lip, “Hm?”

“This morning when…you asked if I’d ever been here, I lied.” Pressing her lips together, she looked down at her hands in her lap. Taking a breath, there was a hint of regret that reflected back at him in her eyes when she looked back at him and admitted, “I have been here. Once. A few years ago.”

Nodding, he was able to piece the story together but quietly clarified, nonetheless, “With…”

“Yeah.” With a sigh, she finally relaxed back into the seat and into Bucky’s side, flinching at the quiet groan the metal let out at the motion. “I thought, I don’t know, maybe it would be easier and help me move forward, but I just kind of want to throw up instead. Then again, that could be the ride, not the circumstance.”

A nostalgic little laugh broke from her as she remembered that summer morning when she’d looked at the paper that Steve had been reading over breakfast, “It was before he and I got together—I was actually dating someone else, and Steve and I were friends and he brought me here because I’d never been.”

Bucky was quiet, just listening as she spurted out all of the thoughts that swam around her head like she was prone to doing at times, “I knew how I felt about Steve but apparently, I hadn’t convinced anyone but myself.” At once, it simultaneously felt like so long ago and like she could still feel that cautious, giddy excitement of falling in love; for so long she’d tried to keep those feelings at bay, but it was futile. There was no choice when someone’s heart made the decision for them.

“The guy was kind of a jerk but…I shouldn’t have led him on when I couldn’t give him what he wanted.” She felt that familiar sting of regret deep in her chest as disappointment colored her words. She’d hurt Nick and had sworn to never do that again, but she’d come to realize that, although in a different way, she’d ultimately hurt Ben just the same. Her indecision and refusal to admit how she felt for Steve had brought about an irreparable rift.

“I didn’t even know what I wanted.” The arm around her shoulder felt like it weighed a ton; what did she want anymore?

Maybe there was a reason that she could still feel that cautious excitement, that terrifying, exhilarating feeling that stole her breath and made her feel like she was free falling from the sky. Maybe it was Bucky.

Somehow that felt like more than she could give. Her heart was still being held together with rolls of tape and cushions of pins—it felt far too fragile to dive off the cliff’s edge again so soon.

But maybe she already had.

The way the wheel rotated was far too slow for her comfort. Looking out through the caged metal as they slowly crested the top, she caught side of the white roller coaster and quickly changed the subject, needing something else to focus on, “He said he got sick on that because you made him ride it.”

With a snort, Bucky defended himself as he watched the little rollercoaster’s car bank around one of the many turns on the track, “He was always sick. It wasn’t the cyclone’s fault.”

Ignoring his shoddy defense, she was reminded that the first time Steve had spoken about Bucky to her had been during their day trip into the city as they walked around the abandoned park. Was this how he’d felt? Plagued by a painful nostalgia for someone who was long gone?

“He told me how you met, about the kids trying to get his lunch money before you stopped them.” Nudging Bucky gently with her shoulder, she added earnestly with a little smile, “He was really lucky to have had you.”

His only response was a pained half-smile as he bit his tongue. Maybe there was still some residual anger that swam just below the surface, leaving a bad taste in his mouth when he thought of his old friend. He hadn't just left Bucky. Steve had been lucky to have Maggie and he’d let her go too, so what did that say about him?

Even after all this time, he still couldn’t understand how he could have walked away from her. Perhaps it was bias, but he didn’t know how anyone else could hold a candle to the complicated, aggravating, beautiful woman that was tucked into his side.

Before he knew it, the rotation slowed to a stop as their car dangled just slightly over the loading platform. Giving her a crooked smile, he unwrapped his arm from around the shorter woman to unlatch their door, “See? Already done. You made it.”

Stepping out first, he used one hand to steady the little cabin while Maggie accepted his other, outstretched one as she disembarked the ride with wobbly legs, giving him a grateful, slightly embarrassed smile.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so thankful for her feet to be back on solid land than she was in the moment. If it wasn’t Coney Island and there weren’t questionable substances splashed all over the pavement, she would have kissed the ground.

With a hand on the small of her back, Bucky led her to the exit, past the line of people waiting to board the Ferris wheel as heavy, gray clouds began to obscure the sun with the threat of a short, seasonal storm that would become a deluge before clearing the sky and leaving only blue and swirls of white behind.

As Bucky held the old, metal gate open to allow them passage, a stout, older woman with a wide brim hat clutched her husband’s arm as she cooed at Bucky and Maggie when they passed, “Aren’t you two the sweetest?” Looking between the white-haired man by her side and the young pair, she sighed wistfully, “Don’t they remind you of us, Jack?”

As the tall, thin man nodded in response to his wife, Maggie’s pink, sun-kissed cheeks went darker than they already were as she shook her head with a small, awkward smile, “Oh, uh—we’re not a couple”

“Oh, we said that too. Now it’s fifty-five years next month.” As she waved Maggie off, she looked to Bucky with a knowing, nostalgic expression. “I remember those early days. Don’t let them pass you by.”

With a small nod, he gave the older woman that strained smile, that he’d found himself wearing far too often, as he continued to guide Maggie away from the ride and the couple with a quiet, “Have a good one.”

The door was barely closed before Maggie turned and had Bucky pressed against the solid wooden slab. Pulling him down to her level with her hands on his cheeks, she could feel the way he chuckled as he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tighter, murmuring against her lips, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need you.” Her words were muffled as she shoved her hands under the hem of his shirt, trying to push it up and get it off. She needed him; she needed something to remind her of what they were doing. The lines were starting to blur, and it was terrifying; were they friends who’d had a normal day out? Or had that been some kind of date?

“Hm?” Appeasing her, he shed his t-shirt before she gave a satisfied hum as her hands trailed over the ridges of the muscles on his abdomen before quickly going to work on his belt with only one goal in mind.

“I want you to…” Trailing off as she undid the buckle with shaking hands, she paused as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. Her thoughts were everywhere, bouncing off the walls as she. fought to gather them, “I don’t want to think.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she hesitantly began, “Would you…”

With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her pupils were blown out, making her chocolate eyes even darker as she stared up at him with that wide gaze that made him want to devour her whole. With a little smirk, he asked, “You want me to be in charge, peach?” At her nervous nod, the wolf-like grin on his face spread wider as he hoisted her up, “I’ve got you.”

Wrapping her legs around his waist with a giggle, he carried her through the apartment, murmuring against her mouth, “You don’t want to think?” At her quiet hum, he continued lowly, “Gonna fuck you hard enough to turn off that brilliant brain of yours, get you all stupid and cock drunk for me…” With a pained groan, he carefully sat her on the floor with one last gentle squeeze to her ass through her skirt as he demanded, “Take that off and kneel on the bed.”

As Maggie pulled the flowery, sun dress over her head, she was left in only a little, blush pink set with lace embroidered on the hips and cups and he bit his bottom lip as he watched her toss the light fabric into her laundry basket. She never knew when they’d decide to act on the benefit part of their friendship, so she’d recently taken to wearing the little matching sets that she’d found herself purchasing more and more often.

With a quiet curse, he pulled the mirror from her wall, and she chastised half-heartedly as he carried it across the room, “Bucky!”

“I’ll fix it later. Now, do what I said.” He snapped, pointing to the bed with a mischievous glint in his eye. A coy smile on her lips, she climbed onto the bed, kneeling in the center as he propped the mirror up on the dresser directly in her line of sight. Meeting her eyes in the mirror as she followed his instruction, he murmured with a prideful smile, “Good girl.”

Shedding his pants, he positioned himself behind her so she could see him over her shoulder in the framed mirror. The bulge in his boxers pressed firm against the small of her back and Maggie gave a teasing wiggle of her hips that he stilled with his hands. Closing her eyes as his touch ghosted over her body, his breath was hot against her ear, sending heat rippling through her as he murmured, “Now, I want you to watch yourself. Keep your eyes right there.” With a firm hand on her jaw, he directed her face to the mirror, and she opened her eyes. The orange sunset that bled through the curtains illuminated the room and set his eyes ablaze as he stared into hers through the mirror; with a single brow, raised in challenge, she nodded.

Appeased, he gathered the bronze waves of her hair and tucked them in front of her shoulder. His lips trailed over her shoulders and neck, whispering, as he went to work unhooking each of the tiny clasps that kept her bra hooked around her ribs, “You know how pretty you look when you’re coming all over my cock,” Nipping at the pale, smooth skin of her throat, he slipped his thumbs under the straps that had fallen limp and helped slide them the rest of the way down her arms. “And my fingers?” Tossing it aside, he cupped the warm, soft mounds on her chest, kneading them as he let out a low groan, “And my tongue? Never seen such a beautiful sight.”

As his vibranium fingers rolled her pebbled nipple teasingly, his other hand grazed down her stomach and slipped beneath the lacy fabric of her panties where she’d felt warmth beginning to pool from his touch and words. Gliding a finger over the seam of her folds, he let out a low groan as she sank back into his arms when he just barely ghosted a finger over her clit, “God, already so wet. You needy for me?”

One of her hands slipped back, clutching the firm muscle of his thigh as she let out a soft, pleasured sigh at the feeling, rocking her hips into his hand. Keeping her eyes open as she watched him through the looking glass she nodded as she murmured, “Yes…”

“Tell me what you need.” His words were muffled as he pressed his mouth against her neck, trailing up and down, never staying in one spot long enough to leave a mark as he slipped his hand back up to where his other was still occupied.

“Touch me.”

“I am.” He teased and she gave a soft whine, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she tried to push his hand down to where she really wanted it. Feigning surprise, he grinned wide, “Oh, you want my fingers?” Feeling the way his chest shook as he chuckled made her shiver as he brought his right hand to her mouth, pressing his middle and ring fingers to her lips as he murmured lowly, “Get them wet for me, baby.”

Her tongue swirled around his digits, sucking as she hollowed out her cheeks before he slipped them out and replaced them where she wanted them. Spreading her knees further apart, Maggie’s breath caught in her throat as he traced slow circles around her clit before dipping his fingers into her warmth.

“James, fuck…” With a soft sigh, she reached back, threading her fingers into his hair as he slowly pressed them inside before drawing them back out. In the reflection, she could see the way his hand moved beneath the thin fabric and let out a soft moan. A breathy gasp caught in her throat as he crooked his fingers inside, making her keen as he pressed against the spongy spot that made her see stars.

A hand on her throat forced her to look forward and she felt her walls clench around his digits involuntarily at the new sensation, her face flushing as he caught her eyes in their reflection. Grinning at Maggie’s reaction, he relaxed his hand as he teased, “Naughty girl…”

“Bucky…” His fingers moving in and out of her at a relentless pace forced everything from her mind except the sensation of touch; the vibranium hand on her throat, his hard, warm body pressed firmly against her back, his breath on her ear as he whispered into it.

“Never knew you liked this—such a fucking slut…” A deep chuckle broke from his chest as he tightened his hand just slightly, bringing a pleasant fuzzy feeling to her brain that was already swimming in an ocean of dopamine. “Tell me what you want, peach,”

The nickname that had initially made her flush with annoyance had somehow become her favorite. The gentlest squeeze from his hand forced her to respond with a broken moan as his thumb focused intently on her clit, “Your tongue…”

“Where do you need it?”

“My…” Trailing off, her cheeks went red as she tried to get the word out. He was the one that always did the dirty talking—not her. It felt as if her entire body was on fire as she opened her mouth again before she was cut off by her own moan as his fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of her channel.

“Tell me, baby.” Bucky’s taunting voice was almost sing-song as he murmured lowly into her ear, “Say it.”

As his fingers moved faster, she felt her thighs begin to shake as she gasped out a half-hearted, “Please…”

Pretending not to hear her, he teasingly asked once more, “What was that?”

It felt like the edge was just slightly out of her reach as she gasped out desperately, demanding, “Fuck— I want your tongue on my pussy. Bucky, fuck, please!”

“Mm, fuck…” Before she could wrap her mind around the way he moved, she was on her back, staring up at him as hovered above her with that cocky grin. Capturing her lips in a smooth kiss, he dipped his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers. Trailing kisses down her neck and chest, taking a moment to pay attention to her rosy nipples that were pert in the cool, conditioned air, he settled between her legs with a smirk as he looked up at her. “Let me clean you up.”

Dragging a finger over the little damp spot that had formed from his prior actions, he watched as she propped herself up on her elbows, choking back a little whimper at the too-soft touch. Rolling the light pink fabric down her legs, Bucky tossed them aside as he hooked her legs over his broad shoulders; a shiver ran through her as the cool vibranium pressed against the back of her knee.

With a playful click of his tongue, his tone feigned disappointment, “Made such a mess of this sweet little cunt. You sensitive, doll?” He barely brushed a finger down her soaked slit, and she couldn’t stop the way her hips bucked at the stimulation, a sob pulled from her chest. Nipping at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she could feel the way he smiled as she shifted restlessly. With his thumbs, he parted her lips to expose her soaked center as he cooed, “Look at this pretty, pink pussy all spread out for me.”

Without adieu, Bucky’s talented tongue licked a broad stripe from her weeping entrance to her swollen clit before going to work on her core insatiably. His hands all but covered her thighs as he held them open, spreading her wide before him. No matter how badly she needed to clench her thighs closed, whether to keep him close or push him away because the pleasure was too much, it wasn’t possible. “So sweet for me, peach…”

The vibration of his words made her whimper as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking in an erratic pattern that made her writhe on the wrinkled sheets as her fingers gripped his hair tightly; he was ravenous as he licked and sucked and nipped, driving her wild. As he slipped two fingers into her tight channel, pumping them in and out with lewd noises, she sobbed out his name as he worked to get her ready for him, “Bucky—”

A warmth pooled low in her stomach, and she couldn’t stop the breathy oh’s that were pulled from her chest. Squeezing her eyes closed, Maggie rocked her hips up into his mouth as he sucked at her labia and dipped his tongue into her clenching core like a man starved. Just as she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled back with a lecherous grin. A needy whine fell from her lips as she gripped his hair tighter, trying and failing to keep his mouth pressed where she needed him most as he held her firmly by the hips, pressing her into the bed.

“Such a greedy little slut for me…” Pressing his lips to her mound, his thumbs brushed over her hips as he asked with a faux naivety, “What? Did you wanna come?”

With a shuddering breath, she dropped her head back against the pillows as her fingers tightened in his hair, pleading, “God—fuck, yes.”

“Where are your manners, peach?” His words were low as a gentle swat to her clit made her back arch off the bed at the surprising cocktail of pleasurable pain. Rubbing over her little button with a thumb, soothing the barely-there sting, he cautioned with a teasing smile, “If you come, I’m not letting you stop ‘til you’re begging.”

“Don’t care—please, James.” Shaking her head as she looked down at him, Maggie wasn’t even certain that her words were intelligible as she begged and babbled with hooded eyes, “Please, let me come. Please, fuck—”

Without a verbal response, he ducked his head back down and returned to his lingual assault, pulling a loud, ‘James!’ from deep in her chest as she rocked her hips against the two fingers that were thrusting deep inside of her at a punishing pace, working her open. It wasn’t long before her thighs were clenching as he crooked his fingers just right and sent her over the edge.

“That’s it, fuck…” He hummed.

Her back bowed off the bed as a pleasant warmth spread through her body, radiating out through her fingers and curled toes as his tongue laved over her sensitive skin, graduating from flat broad strokes to little kitten licks that made her twitch with aftershocks of her climax. Trying to close her thighs and shy away, she whined before he sat up, blushing as she spotted his lips and chin shiny with her juices. With the back of his hand, he wiped away some of it with a smug wink.

“You thought we were done? Not even close, baby.” Maggie’s eyes were wide as he crawled up to lay beside her. As he began to trail his right hand down her neck, she shook her head and shyly grabbed at the vibranium appendage; there was something so beautiful about it. He may have hated it, but it was one of the things that she adored most about him and she’d been nervous to ask for him to touch her with it. But now, she couldn’t help herself.

With a chuckle, he switched hands at her silent request, “This what you want, hm?” His black and gold fingertips trailed down her throat, to her chest that was still heaving as she tried to find her breath again; holding her still with his other hand wrapped around her, resting low on her stomach, he reminded her softly, “Use the word if you need me to stop.

Before he could do anything else, Maggie gave him a cheeky grin as she instructed quietly, “Don’t stop.”

“Such desperate little girl, aren’t you?” She didn’t realize just how sensitive his touch had left her until the metal fingers dragged through her wetness, gathering it, and smearing it messily across her glistening folds as she squirmed in his tight embrace. His thumb focused on her little bud as he pushed two fingers back into her warmth, “Need this little cunt stuffed all the time. Should just keep my cock right here, shouldn’t I?”

With a blush that spread from her cheeks down her chest at his teasing, she could only let out a moan in response. With a hand behind her, she slipped her hand into his dark green boxers and easily found what she was seeking. Using her thumb to spread the precum leaking from his tip, that she knew was swollen and red and ready for her, Maggie slowly jerked him off at an uneven pace as his fingers scissored inside of her, trying to ready her for what was still to come.

“You like that idea, peach?” He sucked at a spot just behind her ear and she whined in some semblance of agreement as the movement of his fingers quickened.

They’d spent more time in bed together than either of them had expected to and, while he teased her about the way she clung to him after he came deep inside of her, she knew he liked it just as much as she did. There was something about the warmth and feeling of fullness that made a shiver run down her spine.

“You wanna keep my cock warm like the good, little whore that I know you are? Never gonna leave your cunt, baby. Love how tight and sweet it is, all for me.” As Bucky felt her body shudder, his hand low on her belly pressed steadily as the tips of his fingers easily found her g-spot and massaged the spongy area deep in her cunt, “Look at your legs shaking—you close already? You gonna come for me again?”

“James—” Maggie was all but chanting his name as her hand stilled, wrapped loosely around his hard shaft as she felt yet another orgasm beginning to approach. Squeezing her eyes closed, her head lolled back to rest against his shoulder; there was a familiar pressure that she hadn’t felt for quite some time and she all but wailed out a broken, “I—god!” as her second orgasm of the night washed over her.

From over her shoulder, he groaned as a clear burst of her liquid came from around his still-thrusting fingers. Rubbing her clit with his other hand, he held her squirming body tight against his as her orgasm continued shooting through her. After several seconds, and a few shorter bursts of fluid, he finally felt the tension leave her body as she relaxed back into him, limply.

Finding her lips, he helped her rest back against the pillows before trailing kisses back down her heaving chest. Ducking his head down, he dragged his tongue through the wetness, sucking at the creamy skin of her thighs as he all but licked her clean despite her mewls as she tried to shy away from his focused tongue.

With one last kiss to her pussy, he shoved his boxers off as he sat up between her legs. Brushing some of the messy hair from her forehead, Bucky’s thumb brushed over her swollen, bottom lip. He waited until her smudged liner eyes opened and found his before continuing with a little smile and a gentle squeeze to her soft skin, “Lift your hips for me, baby,”

Listening, she held them up as he slipped a pillow beneath her. Like it was second nature, her knees fell open, as she exposed her puffy, pink lips to him and her blush went maroon as he teased, dragging the tip of his throbbing cock up and down her slit, “Look at you, spreading your legs for me like a little, fucking slut and I didn’t even need to ask. Such a good fucking girl for me…”

When his crown breached her clenching hole and slowly began to push in, he let out a low groan, “Goddamn, you’re so tight. Love your sweet, little cunt, peach…”

Holding her hips tightly, Bucky sank deep into her with one, slow, languorous thrust. Rocking his hips back, he almost pulled out completely before pushing back in and forcing a muffled whimper from her lips. Finding an easy pace, she let out a hum at the feeling of him pressed deep inside of her, the rhythm become soothing as it rocked her into submission.

Leaning down, covering Maggie’s body with his, he trailed his hands up her arms. Lacing their fingers together as he pressed her hands into the mattress, her head was already in the clouds as she muttered a soft, “Harder—”

“You need it harder? Fuck,” Snapping his hips into hers again and again as she let out a moan that bounced with his every move, he groaned when he felt her body begin to tense beneath his, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!” Maggie gasped out just before his lips found hers again, his tongue massaging hers in a languid, breathy kiss.

Rolling his pelvis against hers, brushing against her swollen clit with each thrust, he taunted, “And who’s the only one who can make you feel like this, baby?”

“You, James, only you—please.” Maggie’s thighs wrapped tight around his hips as she pressed her chest against his, letting out a quiet sob as her sensitive nipples brushed against his chest.

“Only me, that’s right…” Nodding, he quickened his pace, feeling himself near the edge as her walls pulsed around him, “Can feel you squeezing me. You gonna come again, peach? That’s right, come for me—squirt on my cock like a good girl…”

“Oh god, I can’t—” There was an exhausted desperation that tinged her voice as she watched him. Her head felt empty as she shook it, but she didn’t want to use their safe word; she wanted him.

“Yes, you can.” He pressed his forehead to hers while the pressure began to build deep inside of her again, murmuring lowly as his nose brushed hers, “My girl can do it; I know you need to come again, so come for me, baby.” Grunting, he chanted out a quiet, “Yes, yes, yes…”

“James, fuck—” The muscles in her stomach clenched as he pushed deep inside of her with one last, low moan, painting her walls with hot, thick ropes of his cum, sending her reeling as her back arched off the bed for the last time. More of the clear fluid squirted out from her core as she whined brokenly, her body shaking as her third orgasm of the evening washed over her and made her walls flutter around his not-yet softening length, “I, oh—”

“Good job, peach. Fuck, you did so good.” Gathering the limp woman in his arms, Bucky pressed his lips to her glistening forehead as he whispered sweet praises into her ear. After a moment, he helped to rest her back against the plush pile of pillows with a soft, “I’ll be right back.”

Knowing her apartment like the back of his right hand, Bucky easily navigated the space as he grabbed a glass of water from her kitchen, giving Alpine an absentminded scratch, before going to her bathroom to run a washcloth under some warm water from the old, silver tap of her sink.

Sitting the glass on her bedside table, he frowned worriedly when she had no reaction to the mattress sinking as he returned to his spot beside her, “Come back to me, baby.”

“Mmph.” The grumble she gave in response wasn’t enough and he rested a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over the ruddy skin that still hadn’t redistributed all the blood that had rushed to it.

“Hey, need you to look at me.” At his request, Maggie finally, lazily, opened her eyes with a sated smile. Looking at him upside down, her eyes trailed over his handsome face and the exhale he let out was drenched in relief as he greeted the sleepy woman, “Hey, peach. You okay?”

“Never better.” Stretching like a feline ready for a long day’s nap, she let out a soft hiss as he dragged the soft, warm cloth over the sensitive skin of her thighs. Eventually, she grew used to the routine as he methodically cleaned her up and murmured as her eyes fluttered closed, “We should get dinner—I’m starving.”

Chuckling, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead once more before pulling her into his arms, “You’re a goddamn dream, Maggie Hall.”

Perhaps, in all of the rules and stipulations that Maggie had set a few months earlier, she should have thought about sleeping arrangements because there was something about the way that Bucky’s lips were pressed against her hair, that felt distinctly relationship-like. His sleepy groans as he pulled her closer in the middle of his REM cycle made her wish that she’d thought about it earlier, but it was too late—it would have been strange to create a new rule after so long, wouldn’t it? She just had to…compartmentalize. Even after all the therapy and emotional labor to try and resolve it, she still seemed to be good at sorting things into boxes.

Maybe they’d finished their earlier romp, gotten up to have dinner, then returned to her bed to finally go to sleep, but they were just having sex—really fantastic, earth-shattering, amazing sex—but it was only sex. No feelings permitted. He was her friend and her sexual partner; there wasn’t anything romantic about it. Not in the slow, languid kisses, or the way his hands possessively gripped her waist, and certainly not even in the way that he held her body close to his as he slept soundly by her side where her bed had begun to shape to his form.

Bucky’s heartbeat against her back felt like it was synchronized with her own, each gentle thump should have brought her closer to unconsciousness, but her eyes were still wide open. No matter how sated the multiple orgasms had left her, the way that the moonlight streamed through the window and fell upon her nightstand drawer like a spotlight, was far more enticing than sleep.

All she had to do was take the handle and open it; it had been long enough. Stretching out her arm, careful not to jostle her bed mate too much, she slid the drawer open. Reaching into it blindly, her fingers brushed against the glossy photo strip that she sought; it had been tucked away towards the back, and she felt her breath hitch as she picked it up. It had been half a year since she’d allowed herself to look at the photos.

Carefully, she extracted the plasticky, little paper strip. The dim light of the room was just enough to make out the familiar faces in the four frames, but it wasn’t like she needed it. They’d been tattooed on to her brain long ago; there was one that caught Steve off guard, two were a little silly, and the last one showed a sweet look that he had given her when she’d been totally unaware. At one time, it made her heart swell but now it only stung. Trailing a finger over the photos, she let out a slow breath, but the prickle of tears didn’t come like she thought it would.

Somehow, looking at the gilded memory didn’t hurt nearly as badly as she had imagined. And, for some reason, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

#fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x original character #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes #original character #original female character #oc #ofc #misshoneybee: mosaic broken hearts #misshoneybee: you're my achilles heel #misshoneybee: series #ymah #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x original character smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x original female character smut #bucky barnes x oc smut #bucky barnes x ofc smut #did the love affair maim queue too?

[hauntednbeyond]

10.01.21

Beginning to the End of Me

October 1, 2021: The day the love disappeared. the day you betrayed us, our bound and everything i believed was true was a lie, she lays with you as one entity, in the place where i used to be on the tip of mt everlasting and at the end of a quick stick stifling the moans out with music and lyrics, shows and hoes, i guess it's better than netflix and that bitch why would it matter to you now, because i told the whole world i was not okay with polying while you play little t ball, with the teAm and cried on the toilet, over and over i ran and hid as you wanted me too bathrooms used to be my safety net nw they are what holds me why cant i break the ties and just leave you to wander n bone or am i too fugly to be shown

at one point when i cheated you didn't hesitate to cut up and leave,

and BREAK EVERYTHING

You believed the hype and the lies but this whole time i have only lied twice; Only like that make me better than the

Lyination

Once that i never loved another while i love you and that i hate your guts because I don't but i do we are not ready and i feel myself forcing you how i connect, is sick, and demented lust and love, this year i learned the true definitions of those words

lust: for the moment love: for eternity

i want neither, for by time i cast the first stone, it WILL hit me like a boomerang

ILL BE LIKE SMOKEY TAKE A SHIT WHILE I PASS OUT

i never wanted to know this pain, or hurt for my heart breaks too easily i loved you on day one and

you will hate me on day twenty two you want sex drugs and rock n roll i want someone that will fill the hole, sinking, deeper and deeper in the pit of death, they think im superhuman, i know i'm a mess, i cant control what i say because i rather speak truth then cover my face and get stabbed in the back by her face tangled with my voice,

IS THAT NOT WHAT YA coleslaw n biscuit mags a million wanted, cuz i sing but im ugly she raps but she's fat and the evil mastermind with too many backup plans and traps that you keep falling for, playing the best person you knew, and turning her into a cold hearted shrew, i know what you did 4 min ago, 14 mins ago, messenger is the the world i never want to come back in,, want to dig up dirt that's where i would headed

NOT BOUT TO SET MYSELF UP FOR FAILURE

ALREADY A KLOWN TO THE BEAST & DA GOBLIN

"i never want to not know", yeah dumbest shit i ever said. so while i sleep, go ahead and go, because watching you leave hurts but holding my breath waiting for the return is worse,

love sick, loved and ditched pretended and betrayed, the greatest show by little red riding hood and her ho ho ho merry Tanzania,

Welcome to the darling cirius; your place of happiness, but its somewhere ill never exist, too dark for your world and too well spoken for mines where do i fit in? no where. and that is fine.

I am fine.

N.O.L.A.D.B

XOXOXO YESSIE

WRITTEN BY:LOV3L355

#yessie #poetry #ramblings #TOLIETTHOUGHTS #YMAH #LOV3L355

[joshmcdermott]

🎉🎊🥳🎊🍾🎉🥳Hey fam!! Lidia and I are super excited to celebrate these two as BRAND NEW MANAGERS!!!! Aaron and Linda are crushing their health journey!! They are serving others and loving the journey! But they are not done yet!!! They just told me they are not helping enough people and they want to have massive impact!!! Help us celebrate them today but save some for later because this will not be the last time you see them here!!!! Proud of you guys and honored to serve you and be on this journey with you!!! The best is yet to come!!! https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn-eLy-yMaH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[laziswafymah]

#qurbanbogor #qurban2016 #qurbanterbaik #qurban2020 #qurban2017 #qurbanonline #qurbantangerang #kambingqurban #qurbanmurah #qurbanqurbanov #qurbanperasaan #qurbanjabodetabek #qurbani #qurban1441h #tagify_app #qurbanmalang #qurbanyuk #qurban2019 #qurbanjogja #qurbandarirumah #qurbansurabaya #qurbanpedulinegeri #qurbankambing #qurban2018 #qurbanbayraminizmubarek #qurbanbayrami #qurbanbayramı #qurbanxoncasi #qurbanberkualitas #qurbansehat

[mizgnomer]

Eating cake - with David Tennant

#david tennant #decoy bride #escape artist #you me and him #ymah #eating cake with style #and good manners #great - now I want cake #stuff i posted

[whatisthepointofyouhardy]

Alex and John. 

Bonus: 

#David Tennant #dtedit #dt #You Me and Him #Faye Marsay #John #Alex #JOHN IS CUTE #bye #I love watching these small cute moments between them #fight me #also Alex's hair wow #aneclipsedhabitue #thedeliriumtennants #emmettcarverssoulmate #my gifs #ymah

[whovianfloozy]

John describing Alex's laugh to Olivia -- or is he?

#you me and him spoilers #YMAH #david tennant #my gifs #dork

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 11

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: teen, for some strong language and physicality

Word count: 4013

Warnings: some sexuality

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

They listened to pop songs and held hands on the way back. Sophie B. Hawkins moaned about wanting to be someone’s lover.

“This song was so naughty back in the day,” she said, giggling.

“It’s naughty now,” he said, kissing her hand.

“I never heard anything quite like it,” she said. “Olivia thought it was too saucy, but it grew on her.”

“I’m sure it did,” he said. “When did you know you were attracted to women?”

She gave him a long look, wondering whether it would spoil the mood. She didn’t want think about anyone else but him. But she also wanted to be honest.

“Since forever. Since I wondered why my heart raced a bit too much when I spent time with a girl friend in elementary school. But it also happened with a boy or two, so I didn’t think it was strange until later.”

“When later?” he asked. He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand was warm and firm in hers.

“Middle school maybe. It was a difficult time, like I’ve said before,” she said.

“Was Olivia your first?” he said.

“You are frank,” she said.

“I’m John,” he said. “And you don’t have to answer.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I kinda adored her from the first time she was introduced in my English class. When I found out her exchange family lived a few houses down, I made sure to be on my stoop just in case she walked by, and soon I realized she walked by lot. She did a lot of solitary exploring before me.” He snorted. “Shut up,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please continue.”

“Anyway, eventually, I brought my boombox out to blast sexy tunes when she walked by. She just looked irritated. But I finally got the courage to talk to her before it got too cold to sit on the stoop. And I’m so happy I did.”

“When did you have your first boyfriend?” he asked they turned into his driveway. He ran around to open her door.

“That story’s a bit more complicated,” she said. He opened the door. His house was dark and smelled of sandalwood. It was inviting. He flipped on the kitchen light and walked to his liquor cabinet. “I’ve also got limoncello, tequila, and a whole bottle of crème de menthe that someone inexplicably brought to my divorce party.”

“Eww. I despise mint in food and drink. I’ll stick with vodka.”

“So you’ve never had a mint julep while watching the Kentucky Derby with your posh art friends?” he said, pouring her a couple fingers over an ice cube.

“My life isn’t the plot of Pretty Woman,” she said, taking the drink. “For more reasons than one.”

“That was just polo in the film. I’m talking about horse racing,” he said, and winked at her. “You are very pretty though, and very much a woman.” He grabbed her hips and helped her onto the counter. She looked at his empty hands.

“You gonna have a drink?” she said.

“Wine,” he said, and went to pour himself some red into a tumbler.

“You were at complicated earlier,” he said, walking back. He leaned close beside her.

“Yeah. I didn’t really get along with my college roommate,” she said. “But we were both queer and weird, so they stuck us together.”

“What did you study at uni?” he asked.

“Biology,” she said.

“Really? I don’t know why I assumed you went to art school,” he said. “Did you like it?”

“I love science. It’s how I became a flower artist. We had to do a semester of horticulture - you know, plant biology. And I fell in love. The rare and delicate beauty of nature is the highest art.”

“And you don’t feel a bit guilty for using so many flowers for your installations?”

“Says the chop-happy woodsman,” she said. “Do you feel guilty for using wood to make your pieces?”

“They’re hardly art,” he said bashfully. “I make furniture, and the occasional cabinet.”

“They’re beautiful, and far more long lasting,” she said, and took a burning sip of liquor.

“Thanks,” he said. “But, do you?”

“Sometimes,” she conceded. “Ella’s comment just rubbed salt on the wound. But my work has inspired many benefactors to open conservatories and community gardens, and to donate to ecological causes. It balances out, I think.”

“We can’t help but to want to consume beauty,” he said, giving her a hungry look. “It’s in our nature as humans.” He moved so his hips were between her knees. “But if we give as much as we take, it’s okay, right?”

He plucked the glass from her hand and leaned in for a kiss. She melted into him, wriggling out to wrap her legs around him. Despite the fact they were now completely alone, his kisses were unhurried. He rubbed her back, hugged her tight as he did it. She felt surrounded by warmth.

He broke it and took a sip of wine. “Your roommate was queer and weird,” he said.

She pulled up his shirt and touched the silky skin of his waist.

“Right. He had this bicurious friend he messed around with sometimes - a nerdy, sweet type - and one day, during a party, someone suggested spin the bottle -”

“-Good times,” he said.

“And on my turn, the bottle stopped on him.”

“What’s complicated about that?” he asked.

“We kissed, and it was nice. Really nice. Eye-openingly nice.”

“So? You got together?”

“My roommate, who had sworn that they were just friends with benefits, suddenly realized that he had feelings for him, and it was gay dramatic mess. The end.”

“So you broke up to give your roommate the warm fuzzies?” he said, scratching his head. He wasn’t a bigot, but the way people could just mix and match it fascinated him. He felt boringly straight in comparison, but he was trying.

“It was really strange. The whole thing. I knew I liked men, but it was the first time I, uh…” color actually rose on her cheeks.

“You are insufferably lovely,” he said, and kissed her. Her hands turned to fists on his shirt as his mouth traveled down the line of her jaw and to her neck. Her skin was faintly salty, and it made his mouth water for more. The soft pressure of her breasts against him made his hands move up her sides to touch-

She grabbed his wrists. “Wait,” she said. Her breath was quick, and she looked luminous in the gold light.

“What are your middle and last names?” she said, out of nowhere.

“Full name is John William Helm,” he said. He noticed that she didn’t move his hands, but held them on her ribcage, where he could feel her heart. “Yours?”

“Encarnacion Colombe Blanche de Carballo-Finet,” she said. “Your birthday?”

“That’s a nice mouthful. I’m a fall baby. Born 22 November, 1975.”

“I was born on the Feast of Epiphany. January 6, 1980.”

He smiled. “No wonder your name is Encarnacion!”

She let go of his wrists, and his hands dropped to her thighs.

“Yeah,”’ she said. She kissed the tip of his nose, and caressed his freckled cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, John Helm, née Novembre vingt-deux, mille-neuf-cent soixante-quinze, ” she said. She kissed him softly, sipping his wine-flavored breath. His hands remained on her thighs, but they caressed, then squeezed. Heat radiated from her center and made her toes curl. She had not made love since Ella, despite a few failed dates after the relationship was over. Her thighs twitched against his hips. She pulled him closer. He licked the tender inside of her lip this time, and she parted them, eager to feel it. It slid in her mouth and lightly flicked hers. She kissed him hungrily, massaging it with hers. Arousal rose from her belly up her spine. It was getting harder to control her breathing. His hands traveled up her thighs, his fingers barely grazing her skin. Her legs opened, but he did not go further. She had sucked all the wine from him, so now he just tasted like himself. He was delicious. She whimpered and shifted forward again, pulling his shirt up higher to caress his back. Her fingers settled a scar near his spine. He looked at her. She froze.

“It’s from the last surgery,” he said. “It changed my life.” He guided her hand to another, smaller scar on his ribcage. “The endoscope went in through this one.”

She rubbed the pad of her thumb against the raised skin. It was soft and shiny.

He kissed her forehead gently, but she pulled in him for a passionate kiss. She was desperate now, and her short nails dug into the tender flesh of his waist. His lips moved back to her neck and down, to her clavicle. Again, he licked the salt from her skin. He squeezed her upper thighs. Arousal trickled between her legs. His tongue brushed the hollow of her neck. She grabbed his belt, and felt her way to his belt buckle. When she brushed the tented front of his jeans, he moaned so sweetly she moaned back … but she stopped.

“What’s your favorite color, John?” she said. Her voice was going hoarse with arousal.

She licked her prickle-sore lips in a way that made it hard for him to think. “Um… red. No, purple, I think. Yeah, purple.” Her hand had not moved from where it was. He throbbed against her palm.

“I’ve always loved yellow, daffodil yellow, though I rarely wear it. I don’t have the coloring,” she said. She wanted to rub, but instead she looked at him hungrily.

“That’s bollocks. You’re gorgeous. Wear what you want,” he said, and tried to kiss her again.

She put her hand on his chest and caressed. “What about your favorite food?”

“Steak and mushy peas,” he said. “With lots of butter.” He traced her lips, and whimpered when she lightly licked his fingertip. Her thighs tightened around his hips.

“I love arepas rellenas. It’s this Venezuelan corn cake thing. Especially with chicken and avocado,” she said, and kissed him. Her hands raked his neatly combed hair into a spiky tangle that she loved. She moved his mouth back down to her neck. His teeth grazed her skin, and her nipples hardened so quickly it hurt. She wanted to feel his mouth on them. And on the hot flesh of her inner thighs, moving upward-

“Favorite band?” she moaned. His mouth paused on the swell of her breast.

“Not a band. Paul McCartney,” he said. “You?” His warm breath on her skin made her shiver.

“Depeche Mode. I’m a sucker for New Wave,” she said. His mouth dipped lower, then he raised his head.

“Ever seen them in concert?” he said.

“Four times,” she said. “They give great show.”

“So I heard,” he said. He brushed his fingers against her hard nipples through her shirt. She held his hand there, encouraging him to squeeze. They kissed again, but now his hands fondled her breasts restlessly. She guided his hand underneath her shirt, and he pulled down the fabric of her bra to cup her silky flesh. When he dared to tug on her nipple, she arched and cried out. Her arousal roared between her legs. His other hand moved up her inner thigh, past the hem of her skirt-

“I want-” 

His phone rang in his pocket. It was a rock song she didn’t quite recognize.

“Fuck!” he said, pulled it out of his pocket. A woman’s name and face flashed on the screen before he swiped the call into voicemail. The woman was young, and beautiful. And the photo was a selfie, much like the one he took on their date earlier. “Sorry about that. Where were we?” He said, putting the phone on the counter. It vibrated with a text that flashed on the screen.

Busy? 💋💦💦💦😈

“Oops. Let me just-” he fumbled to turn the phone off. Her heart dropped in slow motion. As much as she wanted him, she had never been a one-night stand kind of woman. She didn’t want to be selfie woman #26. There was still a lot she didn’t know about him. And she couldn’t risk another despair in her life right now. She didn’t mind complicated, but messy was too much to bear.

He caressed her, but the urgency was gone. He felt it seep out of her when Kelsie texted. Kelsie, who he hadn’t seen nor heard from in months. It was her who had taken that selfie while they had breakfast and saved it on his phone. She hadn’t phoned in so long he forget to delete it. Why was it that all this shit happened now? Those women coming into his house, Mrs Mulligan, and Kelsie. He bet if Connie was a boozehall pickup job, no one would bother him, as they hadn’t for most of his goddamned life. He exhaled his frustration, but he was also tired of apologizing.

She touched his lower lip, but when he dipped his head to kiss, she moved away.

“I think I should go,” she said, and slid off the counter. “It’s late.” She rubbed her lower belly. She was so swollen she ached.

“That was a friend. A really old, distant friend,” he said.

“You don’t have to give me explanations, John. We just met four days ago. You don’t owe me anything.” she said. She opened the back door. When he saw the flash of her holo trainers, his chest ached with emotion.

“It was three days ago. And what if I want to?” he said, and walked to her.

“Want what?” she said. Why did she sound so tired? She wanted to cry, and she didn’t know why. Cry hard, under the shower, where no one would hear and ask her questions that she was afraid to answer truthfully.

“You. To owe you. Explanations. Respect. Affection. All of it.” He was breathless.

“It’s just your blood talking,” she said. Her eyes dropped to the front of his pants, where there was still a bulge.

“I’m a grown man, not some silly uni boy. I can think while hard,” he said. “And I mean it.”

“Don’t you think this is moving a bit fast?” she said. She ripped the words from her fragile, bruised psyche, because she did not want to say them out loud. But they were true.

“It’s moving at the speed it wants to move,” he said, and took her hand. He put it over his heart. Its beating vibrated against her fingertips. He leaned in. “The way you kissed me. I’ve never-”

She moved her hand away. “I think I need some time to get my thoughts together.  Could you give me that?”

He nodded, but the look in his eyes made her want to wrestle him to the grass and cover him with kisses. She wanted to stay with him. But she was afraid she would spill over, onto his sheets, and then into his hollow places like shadow. She wanted to, so bad it made her tremble. But what did that even mean?

“If that’s what you want,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I had a wonderful time tonight, though. Memorable.” She turned before he saw her weakness, crossed the hedge, and entered Liv’s kitchen. She closed the door quietly, and leaned against it. She tried to control her breathing, but her sighs soon became sobs. She slid down against the door and buried her face in her hands.

Why was she acting like such a baby? Wasn’t she a woman? She could sleep with him, have a nice time, and move on like most adults do every day. Why couldn’t she do it? She sniffled into her forearms. The ghost of sandalwood, of him, made her lip quiver. She had an idea why she felt so strange, but she couldn’t form it into a linear, conscious thought. It was too big, and unwieldy. Barely controllable as it was.

She thought it started at the park, with the full moon, and the piano music. But it went back before that. With the braid, and the pub, the aloe. It might’ve been his stories. Or his patience. Or his sweet smile. Or the fact she wanted to confess everything to him like she would had he been a priest. Why did she feel he would absolve her, and stay?

“Connie?” a soft voice called from the living room. Alex walked into the kitchen, with Monty cradled in her arms.

She stood up quickly and wiped her eyes.

“Hey, Alex. Monty having a late night bottle?” she said. She reached out to turn on the light.

“Keep it off,” Alex said. “Monty was fussy earlier, and we came downstairs not to bother Liv.”

“Oh,” Connie said. How long had she been there? Surely enough to hear her come in.

“Rad kicks,” Alex said, putting the boy down on the sofa and rubbing his belly. He twitched with the sweet sleep on the innocent.

“Thanks. I split my heel like an asshole after dinner. They were a gift from John.”

“Good ol’ John,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. It was really nice,” she said, smiling.

“It was my idea, you know,” she said. She wedged a pillow by the baby so he wouldn’t roll off the sofa and walked back to the kitchen.

“It was?” Connie whispered, following her. She opened the fridge and foraged in the leftover party snacks. Her face looked eerie lit by the bone-white light.

“Oh yah,” she said, chewing a bit of salami. “He felt really bad about the boozehounds, and he wanted to show you he wasn’t a twat. He was desperate. It was sweet.”

“He told you about that?” she said.

“He tells me a lot of things,” she said, popping a cube of swiss into her mouth. “And ever since you came to visit, it’s been mostly about you,” she said. “You know, pumping me for information and that.”

“Ah,” she said.

“Obviously, I told him that I didn’t know much except what Olivia mentioned…” she crunched on a baby carrot and closed the fridge. “... but if she loves you, you have to be a top bird.”

“Why does he even care?” she said, then rolled her eyes. She didn’t mean to sound so callous.

“Why does anyone care about anything? I dunno. Ask him.”

She felt like she made Alex upset.

“I think I’m gonna take a quick shower, and go to sleep.” She walked away.

“John’s not what he seems,” Alex said. Connie stopped. “I know he looks a bit like a typical dudebro jerk, but he was kind to me, during one of the hardest, most confusing times of my life. And trust me, I wasn’t kind to him. I used him.”

Connie kicked the shoes off.

“I was so fucking angry at Olivia. I know she loved me, but sometimes it felt like she didn’t listen to me, preferring her own perspective about what I thought. I know now that it was just my own insecurity making me feel that way, but that’s how I felt, then. That she was way too good for the likes of me.”

Connie sat down again.

“She wanted a whole life together, when I didn’t even know what I really wanted to do with mine.” Alex sighed. “I never got to meet Mara, but John was around, being obnoxious and creepy and offering us herbs and to cook us dinner and shit.”

“I see,” Connie said.

“I didn’t grow up in a neighborhood like this. I didn’t realize until later that it’s just what neighbors do. Anyway, Olivia was moving fast. I was already basically living here - way better than squatting with my mate or staying with mum - but I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t fully ready to do the cohabitation thing. Then she mentioned babies. It scared the shit outta me,” Alex said, and wheezed a chuckle. “I could barely dress and feed myself, and she wanted a kid too? It was frightening. So I told her. But she still went off and inseminated on her own.”

Connie squirmed in her chair.

“I was so scared. Yeah, I’m sure she told you I was furious, but it was the fear that made me go into temporary insanity. I didn’t have a steady job. I couldn’t take care of myself. How could I take care of a little baby, and Olivia? I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. So I did what I always used to do when I was overwhelmed. I went into self-destruct mode. And John was right in my path.” She pointed at the window. His kitchen light was still on.

“He didn’t need to do what he did. And maybe I shouldn’t have let him. But I was terrified. I never showed Olivia, because she was already so miserable. But he saw, and he was so good to me, Connie. And I know it wasn’t only because of the baby. He’s just that sweet. He was lonely, and full of love, and he wanted to lavish it on someone. He doesn’t like to show it, but Mara left him in tatters. Selfish, heartless cunt.”

Connie sighed, but remained silent.

“I don’t blame him for wanting to have a bit of fun after the divorce, but he’s not the lothario he paints himself to be. He’s more emotional than some of my ex-girlfriends,” she chuckled. “He really gets stuck in when he’s besotted.”

“So it happens a lot?” Connie asked. Her tone was neutral.

“You’re the first,” she said casually. Connie’s eyes stung.

“He told you about the boozehounds. Does that kind of thing happen often with him?”

She snorted. “Fuck no. And Liv and I saw it, through the window. He says you were a proper terror with a cricket bat, though. Good on you.”

She lay her head in her arms.

Alex drank from a bottle of water.“Why were you crying earlier?”

“I don’t even know,” Connie said. It was half true.

“But the date went well?”

“It was amazing. He is amazing.”

“When why are you in this kitchen talking to me?”

Connie shrugged, but her eyes filled with tears.

“Olivia and I slept together on the first date,” she said. “We spent hours together - dinner, a movie, then a bar - and I let it go on for her sake, since I already knew I wanted her since we first spoke on the phone. She was irresistible, with her nervous giggle and her constant apologizing. Ugh. So hot.”

Connie chuckled and wiped her eyes. It sounded very familiar.

“I wanted her, but I let her approach me. And she did. The chemistry was there, and I don’t regret a moment. There is no designated time for love. You can’t mark a date on the calendar for it. It either is, or is not.”

“Okay, Yoda,” Connie said.

“Bugger that little green fuck,” she said, smiling. “But you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

“Listen, I don’t want to get into your business. But I have to say it, because I love him. John went from being the bane of our lives into my absolute best mate ever. He is a very, very good man. A beautiful soul. And any woman would be lucky to have him. My only fear is he’ll set his heart on the wrong one again. He seems to be a bit of a masochist.”

Her words hit home. Connie rose to wash her overheated face in the sink. Alex’s chair scraped on the tile.

“I’m gonna take the little one up to bed,” she said. She stopped at the kitchen door.

“He’s a good man. I would stake my soul on it,” she said. She walked to the stairs, Monty in her arms. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered, and disappeared into the darkness.

Next Chapter

#That Woman Over There #you me and him #ymah #john helm #David Tennant #fan fiction #the plot thickens #John + Connie #Alex doesn't cut cards #John/Alex #are bros 4 lyfe

[natural--blues]

“I don’t care. I *enjoyed* the movie!”

That’s fine. No one is saying you can’t enjoy something you enjoy! But when a bunch of queer folk are saying: * ‘Hey, these are very harmful stereotypes’ * 'It offended and upset me' * ‘This made me feel unsafe to be out to my favorite actor(s)’ * ‘I feel betrayed by my favorite actor(s) because of it.’ * ‘I feel like they put on a nice public face, but this movie makes me think they think me/people like me are a joke’ * ‘this feels like the kind of humor we should have seen maybe 20 years ago, but this feels like a big step backward’ * ‘I’m worried about the kind of harmful messages it will send.’ * ‘I feel like people don’t care because it mocked lesbians, and we matter less to them.’

Maybe you shouldn’t be so dismissive of the concerns. 

Queer people are a group of people who have to hear this type of shit daily got to watch a bunch of straight actors on screen -- multiple playing LGBT folk, and the worst stereotypes they could. They got to sit in theaters and hear a bunch of people laughing at a mockery of them. 

lgbtqia folk are naturally nervous about things like this and have every right to be -- we have a long history of bullying, abuse, harassment, mockery, torture, murder, and sexual assault at the hands of others. Our portrayals in media have often helped things like homophobia along that have led to us legally having rights to our humanity stripped legally. There are still multiple countries we can be executed in, we have every right in the world to be upset or nervous when someone labelled as a ‘good person’ that was supported by the community does something like this.

No one is saying you can’t enjoy something. 

No one is saying you can’t enjoy something solely because David Tennant is in it. 

But to completely dismiss lgbtqia folk who were harmed by these scenes that remind them a lot of homophobia/biphobia/transphobia they already experience in life, and many of the things said to them/they were accused of while being bullied throughout their life is cruel.

Literally all anyone is asking is that you recognize that it’s harmful, and tag appropriately. 

But the responses where upset Queer people are met with tempers and bullying messages really need to stop. No one is ripping this movie from your fingers. No one wants you to stop watching it forever, and never enjoy things without my censure again!!!!! They just want you to be mindful. 

Everyone enjoys something that is problematic, but as long as they recognize the problem, and don’t make excuses for it or silence, block, attack, or abuse the people calling it out, there’s really no issue with liking it!

Please stop attacking or dismissing other people in fandoms and communities who feel differently. It’s not that hard to listen to people’s concerns and upset, and accept that while you liked it, it offended someone else. This shouldn’t be something people are terrified of losing friends over, but everyone who posts about it being offensive loses a large chunk of their follower count.

We should be better than this.

#lgbtqia #ymah #david tennant #you me and him #lesbophobia #homophobia #biphobia #transphobia

[strongblacklesbian]

Okay yeah so I watched a bit. At least what I could handle. 

D’you ever get that uncomfy feeling when white people start talking over black people at black lives matter events? They mean well but they’re not quite gettin it?

That’s kinda how I’m feelin about YM&H. Like. You tried Becky, but you’re making me uncomfortable. Please stop. But I persisted bc some movies have a slow start. 

I didn’t realize the lesbian sleeping with the straight man - my biggest biggest biggest problem with the movie - happens early on. So they’re at a party and I’m like, well maybe there are multiple parties? 

Then this happens 

“Fancy forgetting who we are for a bit?”

And my first thought is 

Please no. Please. NO. Please please please no. This is exactly what I thought it might be but I’d love to be wrong bc WLW DO NOT SUDDENLY FORGET THEIR ORIENTATIONS IT DOES NOT WORK THIS WAY. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please don’t let it happen this way. NO. Please. NO NO NO NO N-

DAMMIT. 

Nope. Y’all. I gave it a try despite my serious concerns it’d trigger me. If there’s context I’m missing here, forget about explaining it bc you’ve already lost my trust right here. Done. 

Yes, this movie, to me, is queerphobic. Just from this right here. I’m a lesbian and I am NOT wired this way. 

I’m going to bed. Fuck this.

EDIT:

Okay. Gave it a few extra mins desperately hoping for some sort of context that might still even prove me wrong. And y’all omg .... 

IT LITERALLY IS JUST THAT. A SAPPHIC WOMAN GETS DRUNK AND FORGETS SHE DOESN’T ACTUALLY SLEEP WITH MEN.

And what’s more - SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER IT. That means she was so inebriated 

She.

Could.

Not.

Consent. 

How is that funny?

#david tennant #you me and him #you me & him #ymah #queerphobia #homophobia #lesbophobia #biphobia #panphobia #rape tw #rape cw #assault #assault tw

[misshoneybee]

⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑋𝐼𝑋. 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝑊𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝑂𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝑊𝐴𝑆 𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂 𝑂𝑁𝐸’𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑊

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XVIII — Chapter XX

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, angst, mutual pining

❧ Wordcount | ~7.7k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

My heart, my hips, my body, my love, Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch. Gave up on me like I was a bad drug, Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club. ( Death by a Thousand Cuts | Lover )

February 5, 2025

It had been quiet since things had kind of ended between them. Maybe she’d been naïve to think that things could return to the way they were before they’d started sleeping together. Since the night he left, she was almost certain that they’d exchanged a total of less than twenty words with one another. Seeing him only in passing felt like the worst torment, like he was close enough for her to touch but she was unable to.

As the snow melted, Maggie’s days had become more and more monotonous: work, therapy, home, sleep, repeat. Occasionally the routine was shaken up with shopping or a vet visit for Alpine but otherwise, her already small world had shrunk even further. It was lonely and she felt silly for being hurt but she hadn’t realized that Bucky's new relationship meant that their friendship would likely be put on a backburner.

Like she enjoyed adding insult to injury, Maggie had often found herself imagining who the woman was or what she looked like. Maybe she was a tall, leggy blonde with perfect, perky boobs and sultry eyes. Or maybe a little redhead with curves that he ran his hands over like he used to hers. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop picturing him with someone else.

Did he get déjà vu?

When he was home, which seemed far less often than before, it was almost silent through their shared wall. A selfish part of her was glad that he hadn’t brought her to their building—Maggie had a feeling that seeing her, knowing who she was, would make her feel even more replaced than she already felt.

In the past weeks, as she’d unpacked her new baggage in therapy, Carolyn had reminded her that it was okay to want things, but she had to let herself grieve what never came to fruition. It was okay that she had let herself have hope but she had to forgive herself when it didn’t pan out. She couldn’t know what he was doing or how he was feeling.

Loving was never stupid or inconvenient; it was brave. It was like charting a new constellation, finding the unknown and confronting the darkness to explore it.

Some days were easier than others. The first week had been the hardest. Not long after he’d left had she called Poppy; still sitting on the cat-hair covered floor, she’d prayed for her friend to pick up the phone even though it was long past midnight in her part of the world.

She hadn’t needed to say a single word before Poppy heard her take a shuddering breath and knew the trajectory that her best friend’s night had taken. Letting Maggie cry, Poppy had stayed on the line with her until after she’d fallen asleep sometime just before dawn. It was nights like those that made her wish she was only a few blocks away instead of a thousand miles.

If there’d been any question left regarding whether she truly loved Bucky or not, she had her answer. Losing him had been the only pain that was even comparable to the way she’d felt after Steve left; if she wasn’t in love with him, it probably wouldn’t have hurt so badly to watch him so easily walk away from everything she thought they’d built together.

The tears ebbed and flowed but their occurrences overall were gradually decreasing and that felt like an achievement in itself but sometimes the silliest things still set her off, like Alpine hearing Bucky’s footsteps in the hall and pacing the wall as he waited for him or seeing the coffee mug that he’d accidentally chipped one morning.

Other times, it was grief that forced the heart wrenching sobs from her chest. The night Poppy had returned to the city, she’d thrown her bags in the trunk of a cab and had taken it to Maggie’s apartment without a second thought of visiting her parents or boyfriend first. They fell second place when her stubborn best friend needed her.

As soon as Maggie opened the door, Poppy had enveloped the shorter woman in a tight hug, letting her release all of the tears that she’d been holding back. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to see her best friend until she was in front of her. Like the slumber parties they’d had in high school, Poppy had made her laugh until her stomach hurt, even if she hadn’t wanted to.

Sometime after midnight, the pair were curled up on her bed as Alpine slept soundly between them, having grown used to two bodies in the bed instead of just one. He’d become like some sad child of divorce, forced to live with his mom when he only wanted his missing dad.

Stroking the snoring cat’s soft, snow-colored fur, Maggie gave a little shrug to her friend, a wry smile on her lips, “I just…I feel like I have all this love and I don’t know what to do with it. Where do I put it now?”

In their twenty years of friendship, even all those years when Maggie had been with Steve, she’d never seen her best friend’s heart so wide open. It was beautiful and a little bittersweet that it had opened at the close, like a sliding door that activated just a moment too late, forcing you to stall in your path.

“Give it to yourself, Mags. You deserve it.” At Poppy’s advice, she took a shaky breath.

It was so simple but somehow, she’d never considered that—being a little more kind to herself in the face of his rejection. Seeing tears welling in the dark chocolate eyes, not wanting Maggie to cry any more than she already had, Poppy quickly added with a little smile, “And me—I want some too.”

So, that’s what she’d done—or what she’d been trying to do, but trying to forgive and love herself, even if no one else did, was hard. Every day she had to remind herself that, at one point in time, someone had loved her even if they didn’t work out in the end. Steve’s departure didn’t negate the years they’d spent loving each other, so that’s where she’d began.

Starting small was never really a concept that Maggie had understood or executed well, so she jumped straight into the deep end. She finally unpacked the pictures of Steve, all of his drawings that he’d made for her, and even that little golden locket he’d given her on the day they’d put a label on their relationship.

She hadn’t been brave enough to open or wear it, but she could at least look at it without that rush of red hot anger or heartache. Even without Bucky by her side, Maggie was still proving to herself that progress was possible.

Some days, though, it stalled. There were days when everything went wrong and there was nothing to do except try again tomorrow. Usually she loved Wednesdays—they were the middle of the week, a shining beacon telling her that the end was in sight—but her day had somehow managed to completely go off the rails.

It had begun raining after she’d gotten halfway across the river with no umbrella and hadn’t stopped all day, she’d had three back-to-back meetings, and she’d stepped in gum out on the street. Juggling a bag of groceries, her work tote, a handful of mail, and her keys, she finally got the lock disengaged with a relieved sigh.

Leaving the door ajar, she hurried over to the table as she felt the bag of groceries beginning to slip out of her grasp. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of white taking advantage of his first taste of freedom and bolting out the door.

Throwing her remaining things down on to the table, sending everything into disarray, she took off in a sprint, ignoring the blisters that her pumps were definitely forming on the back of her heels. Cursing loudly as she looked down the hall, she spotted Alpine’s fluffy tail slipping into the stairwell.

Following the feline down several flights of stairs, she swore to ignore the next time he pretended to be too lethargic to move from his cat tree to her bed when she told him it was time to sleep. His salmon treats were going to become a distant memory of the past—could she ground a cat? She could damn well try.

At the bottom of the stairwell, she heard the door to the outside world opening and felt her heart stop as her feet moved faster. If he got out on to the busy street, she’d never get him back and, as big of an asshole as he was, she couldn’t handle that heartbreak too.

Stopping short at the base of the stairs, she saw Alpine making lazy circles around the feet of the person who’d opened the door. It was bizarre—the cat was always so antisocial. With a low purr, he rubbed himself on their jean-clad legs and she let out a breath, thanking whatever deity that was listening that he hadn’t actually escaped the building.

There was a frown on her face as she watched a pair of hands wrap around her cat’s torso, lifting him to the stranger’s chest. The vibranium that caught the hall light, though, let her know that the stranger wasn’t a stranger at all. Alpine chirped and butted his head against Bucky’s chin as he was lifted to his favorite human’s level.

It was a cruel twist of fate that her bad day could get even worse. The only noise in the empty hall was her attempting to catch her breath and the buzz of the lights overhead as they stood several feet apart, avoiding eye contact. It was funny how she could have so much to say and forget every word as soon as he even looked in her direction.

Finding her voice, her words were stilted as she quietly explained, “He slipped out when I was putting my stuff down.”

Bucky was quickly cut off when he opened his mouth to respond as Alpine let out a disgruntled, unabashed yowl to request more pets from his favorite human. At the noise, he absentmindedly scratched behind the cat’s ears before looking back to Maggie who finally met his eyes.

He looked tired, far more than she’d seen him in quite some time, and it tugged at her heartstrings. The circles beneath his eyes had returned, a purple-blue shadow of exhaustion making him look harsher. Maybe she was keeping him awake.

That thought made Maggie want to vomit.

“I’m glad he’s okay.” Bucky murmured, finally kicking the door closed behind him. Cautiously, like she was surrounded by some electric bubble, he approached to hand off the little creature.

“Me too.” Accepting Alpine, careful not to brush hands, she hugged him close to her chest as her heartrate slowed. Finally, Bucky was close enough to touch and it took everything inside her not to reach out.

The silence between them was stifling as they stared at one another before Maggie finally whispered, “I should…go.” Clearing her throat, she added, “I left my door open, and I don’t want anyone to—”

“Yeah.” Biting the inside of his cheek, he gave a short nod. Mimicking the gesture, she took a breath before turning. As she briskly ascended the stairs, she held Alpine tightly, ignoring his whiny meows as he watched Bucky follow his owner from over her shoulder.

Approaching her still open door, she hesitated before turning back to see him keying into his own unit, “Bucky?”

He turned quickly, trying, and failing not to look as though he was hanging on her every word, “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She nodded to the cat in her arms as he lazily looked around the hall, not entirely familiar with the space since he spent most of his time in the apartment where he was meant to reside. She had to admit that Alpine’s love of Bucky was a blessing and a curse.

With a hollow smile, he gave a little shrug, “No problem.”

February 11, 2025

No matter where he went, it seemed impossible to get Maggie completely off his mind. Even after going the whole way to Delacroix, he still couldn’t escape the constant thoughts of her and the memories that seemed to be lurking around every corner. Sitting in the Wilson’s kitchen at the little table, he kept picturing her behind the counter with Sarah as they'd made breakfast together.

It felt like torture. She was everywhere. It was a penance, like it wasn’t enough that he felt guilty for leaving her in the lurch. Until he pushed her out of his orbit, he hadn’t realized how intertwined their lives had become.

He’d heard her talking to a maintenance man just a few days earlier and it had made him bristle. Not long ago, he had been the one that she’d call for odd jobs around her apartment. He missed it. Like some symbiotic relationship, it had gone both ways; she’d always be the one to fix his phone when it was on the fritz but now Sam had taken that responsibility upon himself, and Bucky was close to shoving the new Captain America off his chair.

“Dude, don’t you ever listen to your voicemails?” Sam gave the man an incredulous look as he pressed on the flip phone’s keypad.

Brows drawn together, Bucky looked over at the small backlit screen, “My what?”

It wasn’t like he was technologically illiterate—to the contrary, he’d spent quite some time in Wakanda, who’s technology far surpassed the rest of the world’s—but he still wasn’t totally savvy when it came to cellphones. Sure, he called and sent text messages but that seemed to be the extent of his phone activity. What else did he need to do?

“People leave you messages when you don’t answer the phone.” He explained without judgement. As Bucky made an interested hum, accepting his friend’s explanation, Sam made a face and prodded, “So, you’re telling me you never heard any of the ones that I left you?”

Defensively, Bucky held up his hands in mock surrender, “I didn’t know they were there!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam opened the tab and began scrolling through the seemingly endless list of repetitive names, “You have thirteen from Raynor, seven from me before I gave up,” He gave Bucky a pointed look at that before continuing, “two from Maggie—”

Trying and failing to seem casual, Bucky blurted out, “Maggie? When?”

Shooting the other man a knowing look, he found the specific messages and murmured, “Looks like…both were from last April.”

Quickly doing the mental math, Bucky recalled the events from almost a year prior—their argument, Walker, the Flagsmashers, their unexpected reunion when he finally returned home. At some point in the midst of everything, she’d called, and he’d failed to answer.

On two separate occasions.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so strange if he’d known about the messages before their separation. For almost a year, these messages had simply been floating out in the ether with no one to hear them. Suddenly nervous, Bucky’s voice inadvertently softened as he stared down at the little device that suddenly felt like a loaded gun, “How do I—”

“Just listen.” Sam pressed play, putting the message on speaker for his friend.

A second later, there was a click on the line before Maggie’s quiet voice came from the phone that rested on the table, “It’s me. I just, I haven’t heard from you. And I know we left things…in a bad place, but I saw that video and I—”

The video—the one from Madripoor. Maggie had asked him about it the night he’d returned home; he had no clue that she’d attempted to reach him before then. Guilt sank like a stone in his stomach as he listened to the slight pleading note that stained her voice.

“I just need to know you’re okay. And I know you might still be mad at me and that’s okay because I’m still a little mad at you too but I just…I really care for you, Bucky.”

There was a long pause before she finished quietly, “Just…call me back when you get this. Please.”

Running a hand over his face, he closed his eyes as a beep played, ending the message. He knew that she’d been worried but not that she’d been willing to forgive his sharp words from the week before just to know that he was okay. Without Sam needing to press a button, her second message played automatically, “It’s me again.”

Her humorless laugh made the speaker sound staticky for a moment before she continued, “I…don’t even really know why I called. I guess I just wanted to check in again. To make sure you were okay. I really need you to be okay, Buck. I want you to come back. To come home.”

Her use of the word ‘home’ made his chest tighten. Had she felt like he did? Did he feel like home to her? Her heavy sigh sounded hopeless, and it stung as she moved forward.

“I don’t know if you’re sending me through to voicemail, I don’t think you even know how to do that, or if it’s because you’re somewhere on the other side of the world, but I just really…wish I could talk to you right now. I miss you.”

Her last three words had sounded stilted, like they’d been stuck in her throat, and she’d forced them out. There was a long pause on the line, and he had no doubt that she’d been turning the words over in her mind before she finished quietly, “Call me.”

No sooner had the message ended had Sam bluntly pointed out, with an air of exhaustion, “You’re fuckin’ stupid, man.”

“What?” He was automatically defensive, snapping his phone closed and shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.

Like he was spelling it out in layman’s terms, Sam slowly enunciated, “She likes you.”

Running a hand through his short hair, he slumped forward, his elbows on the table. Maybe he knew that. And maybe that had been the problem. His feelings had been involved from the start—even in that bed at the tiny bed and breakfast in Tennessee, he already knew how he felt about her.

But getting feelings involved was supposed to be against their rules, and Maggie didn’t break rules—at least, not usually. But perhaps she had. And like everyone else in her life, he’d run away.

He’d done exactly what he’d swore to never do.

“Fuck.” Exhaling, he dropped his head into his hands. Keeping her away from him felt like the easiest way to keep her safe, to keep her life from being turned upside down because she was involved with ‘The Winter Soldier,’ but he had a sinking feeling that he’d been wrong. Maybe she was safe from gossip if she was out of reach but that didn’t make up for all of the pain that he was certain he’d caused.

The look she’d given him on the night he’d lied had almost broke him. Her wide eyes were filled with hurt and wet with tears despite the smile she’d plastered on her face. She’d wanted to be happy for him—and he should have known better.

The night they’d met—the night they’d really met on her birthday, a year earlier—he’d asked her why she’d let Steve go back to be with Peggy. Then, she’d simply said that it was to make him happy. And when he’d asked about hers, curious how someone could just let something that seemed so perfect slip out of their fingers, she’d said that she could wait.

She didn’t deserve that—she didn’t deserve to have to wait for her own happiness, but she’d done it again. Maggie had let him go because she thought it was for the best because it was what he’d wanted. Because it would make him happy.

Sam’s frown reminded Bucky of all the times he’d disappointed his father as a teenager as he accused quietly, “What the hell did you do?”

“What do you mean?” It was useless; he knew what Sam was asking.

“Why doesn’t she talk about you anymore?” His words weren’t malicious, only curious to find what had caused their house of cards to collapse. There was no doubt that something had been brewing between the pair since before Maggie’s first visit to Louisiana, but his suspicion had been reaffirmed every time he’d seen them together since.

When he’d watched them dance on the dock, or the way she’d rested her head on his shoulder, or even when she thought he hadn’t noticed Bucky’s wrinkled shirt on her couch when they’d all gone back to her apartment. There was, without a doubt, something there.

At least once a week, he’d call the younger woman to check in and their conversations had shifted as of recent, “She wouldn’t shut up about you before, but for the last month, she hasn’t said a single thing. Unless I bring you up, it’s like you don’t exist.” Gesturing between Bucky and the empty chair beside him, Sam trailed off, “I thought you two were…”

Nodding, Bucky knew there was no use lying. All the cards were on the table.

“We…kind of were.” Hesitantly, he began to unravel the tangled web that he’d somehow managed to weave in just a few weeks’ time, “I…there was a news thing about us. Someone got a picture when I took her out for her birthday, and they started talking about her and me and saying all this shit like she’d run Steve off and was controlling me, or that she had something to do with the Flagsmashers, and I didn’t want anything else to fall back on her. She doesn’t need to be caught up in my shit.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, well aware that his decision had been more than just misguided, Bucky mumbled, “So, I told her I was seeing someone else.”

The wooden chair was loud as it scraped against the floor as Sam pushed himself away from the table with an annoyed groan, “Are you fucking kidding, man?” After a moment, Bucky looked up to meet his friend’s disappointed eyes. He felt chastised, like a little kid in trouble for lying to their parents. Since becoming Captain America, Sam had become a bit more righteous and Bucky would have teased him for it if he wasn’t being reamed by the man in question, “You’re stupid for lying to her about it. Why the hell would you tell her that? Of all things?”

“It was the…easiest way to end it.” Bucky mumbled, the words continuing to spill from his mouth as he dug the hole deeper and deeper towards the Earth’s core. It had been a spur of the moment decision to lie like that, “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Dumbstruck, Sam stared at Bucky for a beat. Over a century old, he would have thought that time made his friend wiser, but perhaps the years and repeated freezing and defrosting process had killed off the majority of his neurons.

“You thought that telling her you’re into some other girl wouldn’t hurt?” He blinked, his mouth hanging open just slightly at the other man’s audacity, “Dude.”

Without any defense, Bucky dropped his head against the table with a muted thud and muttered out a muffled, “Shut up.”

“Remember that whole tough love thing?” Standing up, Sam waited until the other man finally met his eyes again. Typically, he wasn’t one to intervene in the personal lives of his friends, but there was some brotherly instinct that he held for Maggie, so he was firm as he bluntly stated, “Here’s some more: own up to your shit. You gotta tell her the truth.”

February 14, 2025

This year, Maggie had had the forethought to call out of work. What were the odds that she’d have a broken heart, two years in a row, on Valentine’s Day? Apparently, much higher than average. Her brain was plagued by memories of Steve and wistful thoughts of what-could-have-beens with Bucky but for the first time in her life, she didn’t punish herself for that.

She didn’t permit herself to wallow in bed and soak her pillow with tears or to go out and do anything self-destructive as she had the year before—instead, she let herself to feel the pain. It was foreign, to sit in that discomfort and make herself work through it without allowing it to consume her entirely.

As soon as she re-entered her building, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. Unable to stand sitting around the silent apartment all day, she’d gone for a walk—forgetting the awful weather as sleet came and went, making her nose runny and cold as the chill seeped up through her boots and deep into her bones.

Getting her mail from the little box in the building’s foyer, she quickly ascended the stairs, eager to return to her cozy home. Letting herself inside the warmth of her own apartment, she shuffled through the envelopes like they were a deck of cards, mentally categorizing each piece to be placed in their appropriate pile on her desk or in the trash.

‘Junk, junk, bill, coupon, bill, Steve, junk—Steve.’

Stilling inside the doorway to her room, the other six pieces of mail fluttered to the ground, landing silently on the tiny rug as she stared at only one envelope. She briefly wondered if she was dreaming, or even hallucinating, because it was unmistakable.

There was no return address in the top left corner, but it was postmarked only a few days before and she would know that handwriting anywhere. She’d spent more than enough time looking at it to be able to easily recognize it.

It was like she got tunnel vision, leaving everything like breadcrumbs behind her as she sat on her bed, holding the fragile, folded paper like it was the most delicate leaf of gold. She couldn’t blink, too worried that it would disappear into thin air if she did.

Her name had been printed on the center of the envelope in pen, her address scrawled beneath it. The stamp in the corner told her that the letter had been sent relatively recently. It felt like something had gotten lodged in her throat as she trailed a finger over the words, ones that he’d penned not too long ago.

A part of her wanted to leave it intact and keep it like a time capsule. It could be Schrodinger’s letter; if it stayed sealed, then the whole life that she’d imagined for him would remain intact. But, even after everything, she still couldn’t resist digging up the grave just one more time.

Slipping a finger beneath the flap, Maggie carefully separated the paper and adhesive—afraid to rip it, like it was some precious thing that had to be preserved. For her, it was.

The thin, lined paper was folded into thirds, and she could make out the shadow of words on the other side of the page. Sitting the envelope aside, Maggie slowly flattened out the paper and felt her breath catch as reality seeped in; it was real. In her hands was something that Steve had held in his just a few days before.

Resting her back against the mound of pillows at the head of her bed, she finally allowed her eyes to look at the words on the page. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was speaking to her. Even after a year and three months, she could still hear his voice so clearly as she devoured each word like she’d been starving for days.

'My Dear, Maggie, I don’t know if this letter will find you, but I can only hope that it does and that it finds you well. I understand if you choose not to read this and throw it away—in fact, I wouldn’t expect any less from you. You were always so stubborn. There is so much that I want to say but as I write this, words fail. It feels like none of it can be explained on just a lined page.’

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the paper to her chest and closed her eyes. There’d been the smallest part of her that thought it was a hoax, that someone had cruelly imitated his handwriting just to hurt her, but no. It really was Steve, the one that used to be hers and the one that a part of her would always love. Braving the unknown, she continued reading.

‘Let me start by saying that I have missed you every day since I left that morning. I don’t regret any choices that you or I made, but a part of me will always wonder what life could have been like if I’d stayed all those years ago—though for you, I know it’s only been a little more than one.’

It was still hard for her to wrap her mind around everything that had happened, all the impossible things that she would have never believed just ten years earlier. Aliens, superheroes, time travel—nothing made sense. It was strange to think that the Steve who’d written the letter had lived an entire life since she’d last seen him but somehow, he hadn’t forgotten her. He’d remembered her, just like he’d promised.

‘I hope that you’re well and that you don’t resent me too much, although I would never fault you if you did. I know now that the decisions that we made were selfish. You were in pain and wanted to be alone and I had a door open to a life that I never expected to go back to. Perhaps we were both a little too young and foolish. (And before you say it, I know I wasn’t quite young but compared to now, I was.)’

Letting out a watery laugh, Maggie wiped her eyes. Maybe time had taken his youth, but it certainly had left his smart remarks. It felt like a dream, but she didn’t want to pinch herself and risk waking up—especially when reading his words didn’t hurt nearly as badly as she’d imagined it would. It didn’t feel like she was drowning anymore; somehow, she’d conquered the waves and the sea had calmed. She was floating above the current.

‘All of this is to say that I wanted you to know that I love you and I will always be thankful to have met you, Marguerite Hall. I thought about you often over these years; how you were, how I hoped you’d find someone worthy of your love, and how I hope you’d allow them to love you. You’re owed so much more than anyone could give you, but I hope you let them try.Please, let them try.I’ve wanted to reach out for some time, but I never wanted to cause you more pain than I know I already had but I felt like it was finally the right time. We both know those magazines are just gossip but I wanted to tell you that I saw the photograph of you and Bucky. And if I know you like I think I do, I know you probably feel guilty for it, for moving on, but you shouldn’t. I don’t want you to.’

Of course, he still knew her. He always would; the good, the bad, and the ugly—but he’d still loved her regardless. And he’d always known exactly what she needed to hear. Using the soft cuff of her sweater, she swiped some tears from her cheeks, careful not to allow them to touch the paper and smudge the pristine writing.

‘You were just as beautiful as I remember, and I don’t think I ever saw Buck smiling as big as he was when he was looking at you. I always knew you two would be friends after I was gone, maybe I even knew you could be more if you both weren’t so damn stubborn. You deserve to be happy, Maggie. If he brings that to you, then that’s all I ever wanted to see. Take care of each other and I know you two can have a long, beautiful life together.’

She wasn’t certain whether the sob that was pulled from the depths of her chest was because he’d actually given them his blessing, or because it didn’t matter anymore. There was no way for him to know what had transpired between the pair. Aside from Poppy, he was the only person who’d mentioned the photo to her—everyone at work had ignored it and she never even asked Bucky if he’d seen it. She could only hope that he’d been spared.

‘I’m sure you don’t care to hear more of the ramblings of an old(er) man, but I just wanted to say that I hope that life treats you kindly and you get everything you want out of it. You deserve it more than anyone, sweetheart.Life is short so, for my sake and yours, live bravely and love just the same, Maggie. I know you can. All of my love, Steven G. Rogers’

Bringing a hand to cover her mouth, she stifled the sobs that wracked her shoulders. Sitting the paper on top of the envelope carefully, she allowed herself to really cry. It felt like she’d been transported back to the morning that he’d left; alone in a bed, a paper that had touched his hands just a short time before beside her, the sky so gray outside her window that it felt like it was reflecting her emotions back at her like some massive mirror.

But time had made her stronger. The pain had dulled, and the gaping wounds had finally faded into scars; the little, shiny lines that remained from her emotional battles divulged beautiful stories that she never could have even imagined. They told her about all the love that she’d given and received, all of the pain that had been absorbed and let go of, of every beautiful day, and even those that were gray and heartbreaking.

They’d made her who she was.

Each misstep in her life had somehow managed to mend another broken bone, piecing her back together through the pain and change. She wasn’t willing to let life just happen anymore. It was time for her to think about what she wanted.

Steve had told her to love as bravely as she’d lived and, even when she didn’t feel brave, her physical scars reminded her that she had been before, and she could be again. She could do it. Just like she’d built a new life from the ruins of her old one, she wouldn’t just do it for Steve—she would do it for herself.

After a long bath, letting out some more of her sorrows to the bubbles that surrounded her body, and a small glass of wine, she found herself bundled up in her pajamas and a blanket on the couch. It was definitely a wild Friday night.

There was no question about what she wanted anymore; she just needed another push. With a quick, silent prayer that he had no plans, and that she wasn’t interrupting a date or something along those lines, she dialed a familiar number.

Jolted from his half-asleep stupor by a vibrating buzz in his pocket, Sam sat up from where he’d been reclined with a low groan. Pulling his phone from its denim prison and squinting at the screen, a familiar name woke him further. With a sharp elbow to Bucky’s side, he flashed him the screen and gave the super soldier a pointed look before standing and nodding towards the hall.

Brows drawn together, Bucky watched him walk away with a frown. He knew that he and Maggie talked often—Sam had said as much—but it was late. What if she’d gotten hurt? Or if she was in danger? Checking his own phone and finding no missed calls, he sighed and tossed it on to the other side of the couch.

Whatever it was, she hadn’t needed him for his input, and, for some reason, that stung.

Answering on the third ring, Sam quietly closed the door to his room behind him, despite the knowledge that Bucky would probably be straining his ears to try and eavesdrop on the friends’ conversation, “Hey sunshine.”

“Hey, Sam.” Maggie’s voice was hoarse from the tears she’d shed earlier in the evening but the little smile at his use of her nickname was audible. Laying on her side, she propped her head against the arm of the green couch, exhaling quietly, “Can you talk?”

“Of course,” Taking a seat in the armchair near the big picture window that gave him a wide lens view of the yard that was dappled with weeping, mossy trees, he settled in, “What’s up?”

Putting her phone on speaker and placing it on the middle of the cushion beside her, Maggie squeezed her eyes closed as she quietly admitted, “I need advice.”

“So, you come to the master.” She could hear the way he grinned as he relaxed back into his chair, prepared to listen to whatever was plaguing her. Despite the distance, he’d become one of her closest and most trusted friends since meeting him only a little over a year ago.

“Maybe I should hang up.” She mused aloud, flatly. Though he knew how much the stubborn woman hated reaching out for anyone else’s assistance, he couldn’t help but tease her.

Chuckling, he waved her off despite her not being able to see the gesture as he nudged, “Nah, just tell me. What’s going on?”

He didn’t pressure her as she quietly got her thoughts in line, trying to figure out where to begin, or what she wanted to ask, or if she even wanted to disclose Bucky’s identity to him—she didn’t want to make it awkward the next time the men spoke or make him pick a side.

Finally settling on vaguely explaining the situation without any identifying details, she exhaled and nodded to herself, as if she needed permission to discuss her own dilemma.

“I was seeing this guy for a few months, and I thought we were just…hooking up,” Her face flushed as she admitted that piece of information to him; he’d become like a brother to her.

Sam had to chuckle—Bucky hadn’t disclosed that during their conversation a few days prior.

Ignoring his light laugh, she rolled her eyes and continued, “But I started to like him…” Trailing off, her fingertip traced rounded shapes in the dark velvet.

No, that didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound like enough because it wasn’t. It wasn’t that she just liked him; she liked her co-workers and the coffee cart down the block—it wasn’t enough. Finally, for the first time, despite the way her voice cracked, she braved the consequences and admitted softly, “Actually, I fell in love with him.”

He heard the way her breath shook as she sniffled; he knew the tears had arrived at the words that she’d likely had to pry out of her own mouth. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees as he patiently waited for her to continue, wanting nothing more than to embrace the smaller woman through the phone.

Had Bucky known that when he’d ended things with her? Had he even been aware of the depth of her feelings? He could only hope that he hadn’t because, if he had, he’d kick his ass the entire way up the eastern seaboard to make him repent.

“I was going to tell him but he…” Exhaling, Maggie could feel her throat tighten; it was like her body was trying to reject what she had to say, “We agreed to stop if either of us found someone else. And he did.”

If he hadn’t already been certain that she’d been talking about Bucky, that would have been the smoking gun, but instead it only affirmed what he already knew.

At that, it was like the floodgates opened and every thought came faster as her words turned into falling water, “And I know it’s probably not fair to tell him how I feel now because he’s probably happy with her, and I’m sure she’s great, but I feel like I have to get it off my chest and I’m terrified because what if it all goes wrong?”

He was glad to hear her stop at least once for breath before she continued, “What if I tell him and he hates me? I’ve done this before and I don’t want to lose him too. After everything with Steve—I just, I know he told me it was okay, but I don’t want to go through all of that again so maybe I should just…cut my losses and forget it.”

Her voice sounded so small on the line as she muttered the last part to herself. She’d had far too much time to talk herself out of telling Bucky how she felt since that day the month before.

Frowning, he opened his mouth before he was cut off once again with her disclaimer, “And I know you’re not my therapist and you don’t do those support groups anymore but I just—I needed someone outside of the situation.”

Pausing for just a moment, Sam nodded silently as he absorbed everything that she’d just word vomited. Even if he hadn’t already known, he had a hunch that he would have realized she was referring to Bucky from just her story alone.

Slowly, like Maggie was some flight risk—which she kind of was—he cautiously pointed out, “You know, you don’t owe Steve anything, right?” At her silence on the other end of the line, he reminded her quietly, “You said that he wanted you to move on.”

Picking at the raw, pink cuticle on her thumbnail, as she avoided looking at her phone like she was avoiding eye contact, Maggie sighed futilely, “It just—nothing feels right.”

Unable to pretend any longer, Sam rubbed his forehead as he pressed, “Does it feel wrong because you feel bad for moving on, or because you feel bad that you want it to be with Buck?”

“What?” Maggie’s question was sharp. Sitting up quickly, she snatched the phone from the cushion and stared at it apprehensively, ignoring the headrush from moving so quickly. Having been incredibly careful not to use his name, like a spy avoiding a laser maze, she felt her stomach flip at what the most likely implication was.

He’d spoken to Bucky too.

“He told you?”

“I could tell…but yeah, that too.” Sam admitted with a half laugh; there was no use lying to her even though he was reasonably certain that the man in his living room hadn’t told her where he was going. “You can’t control who you fall in love with, Maggie. You know that.”

Feeling the way her nose and eyes tingled at his gentle reminder, she grasped at the end table for the box of tissues as tears welled in her eyes again. Of course, he was right.

If she’d had a choice, any at all, she wouldn’t have even made it, because wasn’t it safer if no one else had the power to break her heart?

“I can’t do it again.” He knew what she meant—lose someone, like she did Steve. Maggie’s voice was thick as she thought aloud, unsure if she was trying to convince him or herself, “I know things are weird now since he’s seeing her but at least he’s still around.”

Her voice cracked and she rested a hand over her eyes, like it was some kind of dam for her tears. It wasn’t even that true—they didn’t see each other anymore, so it wasn’t like he was actually around.

No, she would give all of this up just for the possibility of his presence, just to not lose him completely.

There’d been countless reasons throughout the course of their friendship for which Sam had wanted to maim Bucky, but this call, and how hurt she was because of him, was quickly becoming one of the most egregious. She was willing to settle for nothing just to have him in her life.

Shaking her head, Maggie hugged a pillow tight to her chest, “I just—if he left, or something happened, and we didn’t work, I don’t think I could do it all over.”

“Maggie, you’ve gone through more than a lot of people your age, but you made it.” In the past year, he’d learned all about her history—about everything she’d gone through. Losing her parents, having to try and help the world after the snap, losing so many people that she’d loved in quick succession—he didn’t know how she was still standing.

He would have been knocked on his ass if he’d been in her shoes.

“If you love someone, sometimes you just have to take the risk because you don’t know what you’ll miss out on if you just let it go.”

Wiping her eyes, she took a few deep, steadying breaths as she absorbed his words. Maybe she could be a risk taker just one more time—maybe she could tell him. Her breath was still the slightest bit shaky as she bluntly pointed out with a dry laugh, “It’s all really fucked up, Sam.”

“There’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” He shook his head, exhaling a soft laugh at her brash words. “I promise, you can work it out.”

Fifteen minutes later, as he returned to the living room, Sam’s eyes were like daggers as he stared at his friend who’d finally stilled after pacing the living room floor since he’d left to take the call.

Eagerly, Bucky inquired, “What’d she say?”

“I thought the Tin-Man needed a heart, not a brain.” Flopping back down onto the couch, Sam glared as Bucky looked properly chastised at his jab. With a sigh, he granted him the slightest grace, “Ask her yourself, dumbass. I’m staying out of it, but you better fix it and fix it fast.”

#fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x original character #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes #original character #original female character #oc #ofc #misshoneybee: mosaic broken hearts #misshoneybee: you're my achilles heel #misshoneybee: series #ymah #did the love affair maim queue too?

[mushiemadarame]

i'm watching you me and him and gdi david tennant you're so gross and i still would

#mushie lb #mushie lb ymah

[tyttetardis]

“….from Broager in Denmark…” 😅 that’s almost so specific they might as well have mentioned my name too 😅 😌 hahaha

#david tennant #kirkcaldy #festival of ideas #i've very excited to go!! #but still pretty bummed about the booking process! #i were one of the first online (it seems) but everytime i selected a seat a message popped that it was already taken! #so i frantically hit several seats until the message didn't pop up and then hit confirm tickets #doh it then turned out i had 3-4 tickets on hold in my basket #and they don't have an option to delete specific ones! #so i had to either buy all (which i couldn't really afford even if i could have sold then) or cancel all them!! #well at least i have front row for ymah! #and i also have an excuse to go to edinburgh!!! 😄

[thedeliriumtennants]

@chiaroscuroverse replied to your post “@chiaroscuroverse replied to your post “some time ago i saw a series...”

don't go submitting applications when you get back to London...

Already purchased the kneepads, I’ve got the hair ties ready, I am THE ONE for this job. 

#chiaroscuroverse #conversations from the sin bin #nsfw-ish? #if there was something even remotely involving his dick that showed up in a job description #you best believe i'd quit my e n t i r e life to be first in line #like someone's job in YMAH was to make sure his dick stayed in the pouch thing #and the editor got to see all of the shots that he wasnt covered by her head #and everyone on set got to watch him in whatever cover thing they came up with #sign me the fucking fuck up #me x career goals

[chokmahyah-blog]

Unleavened Meals. Would y'all like any recipes? Comment below. There are deserts also :) * CHECK out my high light that's home made ice cream..Mmmm😌 * #food #foodie #unleavenedbread #veggies #dessert #pesach #salmon #soup #beans #mama #hebrew #ymah #cook #mommyvlog #mom #blog #mommyblogger #vlog #israel

#mommyblogger #unleavenedbread #cook #foodie #mama #israel #pesach #hebrew #blog #vlog #mommyvlog #salmon #soup #food #veggies #beans #mom #dessert #ymah

[scryfall]

THE TENTH TABLE OF MERCURY

Conjuration

Petasa, Ahor, Havaashar, N. N., cites Thee Spirit Yloij * through God, God Adonaij Ymah, through God Tetragrammaton Rawa, through God Emanuel * Ahaij, through Athanatos that Thou appear before me as truly in and through the name of Adonai, which Moses mentioned, and there appeared grasshoppers. fiat, fiat, fiat.

The Tenth Table of the Spirits of Mercury gives wealth in Chemistry. These spirits contribute treasures of the mines.