Stardust – Masterlist 2 (Chapters 73–__)
Bucky Barnes x curvy!plus-size!OFC
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
73. I believe you.
74. I, uh...I guess we should talk.
75. Hold onto that hope.
76. You have to pinky promise.
77. ...I don't blame you.
78. Even though that would be nice.
79. My shirt.
80. Don't get your hopes up.
81. I'll take that under advisement. ⚠️
82. You okay, Neets? ⚠️
83. Fast. 🌡️
84. You sweet on me or somethin', doll?
85. Liquid Lust.
86. Breaking your own rules. 🪭
87. And sweetheart...I'm just getting started. 🪭
...
*Stardust is ongoing; however, it is currently paused*
Stardust is also posted on AO3 and Wattpad, if you prefer to read on those platforms
Stardust AO3 | Stardust Wattpad
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 80/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 79 | Chapter 81 | Stardust masterlist
While reblogs are appreciated, I do not consent to have any of my works otherwise saved, copied, translated, and/or reposted in any fashion by any individual, corporation, and/or entity other than myself. I do not consent to have any of my works used in and/or with any type of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in any capacity.
MAY 6, 2024 — DELACROIX — DANICA
I’m in that stage of sleep where I’m aware enough to know that I’m asleep, but I’m still drifting in a dream…one I don’t want to leave.
My cheek rests against a firm chest, a strong arm is draped over my waist, and a comfortable warmth plus a familiar combination of cedar, tonka, and leather envelope me.
‘James!’ I think, snuggling closer to him as happiness and joy bloom in my chest. ‘My James is here! He came back to me!’
I feel the brush of lips against my hair, and the sensation brings me back to full awareness…and I realise I wasn’t dreaming.
‘Oh, god…’
The memory of him holding me while I cried replays in my mind, and I cringe in embarrassment, feeling my cheeks heat. Slowly, I lift my head…to find his beautiful, blue eyes fixed on me.
Neither of us speak; we simply stare at each other, the air thick with tension, and heavy with everything we need to say. After several long moments—or maybe they’re short ones, I’m honestly not sure—he slowly lifts his left arm from my waist, and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His vibranium fingers lightly brush my cheek, and I can’t stop my quick intake of breath or the fluttering of my pulse.
He swallows thickly, then leans close. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t; he just rests his forehead against mine. I close my eyes, and—just for right now—I let myself pretend that everything is okay…that our reunion was a happy one, that he’s part of my and Astraea’s lives, and that he loves not only our daughter but me as well.
The moment soon ends, the quiet broken by the ringing of my alarm. I quickly move away from him, slipping off the other side of the bed.
“I, um…I have to get ready, and then get Astraea up. She has school,” I murmur, then disappear into the en-suite before he can reply.
I turn the shower on to heat, then place my hands on the counter, bowing my head as I do my best not to dwell on waking up in James’s arms.
‘He tried to kiss you…and then he held you while you cried. He must still care!’ something inside me practically shouts, and my heart leaps in my chest.
“No,” I say aloud. “Stop it, Danica. Don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t feel anything for you; he’s just falling into old patterns because that’s easy.” I let out a heavy sigh. “And even…even if he did still care….” I trail off. “Just because you understand why he behaved the way he did doesn’t mean that you can forgive him so easily. Remember, the things he said weren’t okay. They were designed to make you hurt the way he hurts.” I swallow audibly, fighting against the tears I feel building. “And it doesn’t matter what you feel for him…you have to be strong. No falling into his arms and telling him how much you love him…how you’ve never stopped loving him.”
My voice catches on those last four words, and my eyes fill. Holding back the tears, I begin to undress. I’ve just reached for the shower door when I realise that I never heard James leave the room—no footsteps, no catch of the door, nothing.
‘He was literally the world’s deadliest assassin for decades. And that sort of stealth doesn’t just disappear. He probably slipped out while you turned on the water.’
‘Or he didn’t…and he overheard all of that. He does have enhanced senses, after all.’
‘Stop it.’
Shaking my head at my inner debate, I step into the shower.
The hot water washes over me, and for a couple of minutes, I simply stand beneath the spray, doing my best not to think about the events that have transpired since dinner at Sarah’s, though that’s a losing battle. Letting out another sigh, I reach for the shampoo.
When I emerge from my room, dressed and ready for the day, I’m surprised to hear the sound of Astraea’s laughter carrying down the corridor. I follow it to the kitchen, finding her dressed and seated at the island, pancake-filled plate before her.
“Mom! I already got ready for school! And look…Dad made pancakes!”
“Well, aren’t you two efficient this morning,” I reply with a smile.
Turning to James, I find him at the stove, spatula in hand. Our eyes meet, and for one heartbeat, I see something in his gaze that looks like longing…and then he turns back to the pan he has on the burner.
‘Stop it,’ I remind myself. ‘Be strong.’
“Would you like coffee?” I ask, moving towards the counter where I keep the coffee maker and the electric kettle.
“Please.”
I set the Keurig to brew a cup, then I switch on the kettle. I take two mugs from the cabinet, placing a tea bag in mine, then setting James’s beneath the spout of the machine. His single cup finishes brewing just as the kettle whistles, so I fill my mug and let my tea begin to steep, then lift his.
“Do you still take it black?” I ask as I take it to him.
He nods, his eyes on mine. “Yeah, do—Danica.” His cheeks pink slightly, and he clears his throat. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
With his gaze still fixed on mine, he takes a sip of his coffee…then chokes as Astraea speaks.
“Are you two gonna kiss and live happily ever after?”
While James splutters, I turn to my—our—daughter.
“Astraea!”
“What?” she holds her hands up and shrugs. “It’s just a question!”
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 79/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 78 | Chapter 80 | Stardust masterlist
While reblogs are appreciated, I do not consent to have any of my works otherwise saved, copied, translated, and/or reposted in any fashion by any individual, corporation, and/or entity other than myself. I do not consent to have any of my works used in and/or with any type of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in any capacity.
MAY 5, 2024 — DELACROIX — BUCKY
After Danica disappears inside, I stand on the dock for a long while, staring at the darkening sky and replaying everything that’s happened over the past two days. As the images flit through my mind, the guilt I feel for how I behaved yesterday and just now grows heavier and heavier.
‘You’re a fucking idiot,’ I think, keeping with my usual pattern of berating myself for any- and everything. ‘You manage to earn some compassion from Danica, to establish a little bit of…whatever today was…and then you blow it by trying to kiss her.’
“Great job, Bucky,” I mutter, my sarcastic tone piercing the night. “Yet again, you’ve fucked things up.”
Shaking my head, I turn away from the water and start toward the back yard. I plan to skirt the house and enter the apartment through the exterior door, but that plan shifts as I step onto the manicured lawn.
Faint noises carry through the air, and it only takes me a moment to recognize the sound of Danica sobbing. My feet are moving before my mind fully catches up, and I stride rapidly across the yard and up the steps of the screened porch. As I type in the code for the lock—one-zero-zero-three—it’s like a lightbulb goes off in my brain, and I realize why that sounded familiar earlier.
‘Danica’s British…they write dates as the day, then the month. My birthday…she used my birthday,’ I think. ‘God, I really am a fucking stupid asshole.’
I step inside, locking the door behind me, then follow the sounds of her sobs through the house to what I assume is her room. The door is closed, and though I know I shouldn’t, I open it.
The sight before me causes my chest to constrict: Danica is curled up on top of the covers, clinging to something as she cries. Without thinking, I cross the room, settling onto the edge of the mattress and gathering her into my arms, the thing she’s clinging to slipping from her grasp. As I settle her into my lap, she tenses, every muscle in her body going rigid for several heartbeats…then she buries her face into my chest, her hands fisting in my shirt as she begins to sob even harder.
I don’t speak, I just hold her close as she cries, letting her know she isn’t alone. Each sob that slips from her feels like a knife in my heart, and I rest my left cheek against the top of her head as my own eyes fill. My gaze lands on the item that slipped from her grasp, and a sharp ache blooms in my chest as I take in the rumpled, khaki shirt with a Sergeant’s insignia on the sleeve.
‘My shirt,’ I think, because I know without a doubt that it is mine. ‘She kept my shirt. But how…. Oh, god…oh god.’
I realize that she must have been wearing it when her plane went into the ocean…that she probably wore it every day after I left it in her apartment.
‘Oh, Neets…my sweet, wonderful Neets. I’m such a fool for thinking you’d ever….’ I let that thought trail off. ‘Sarah was right. You’ve made sure I’m a part of your life—of Trae’s life—as much as you can.’ I sniffle. ‘How wrong I was, about everything. God, Neets, I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry.’
Lost in my own inner spiral, it takes me a while to register that her crying has stopped, and that her body is relaxed against mine.
“Danica?” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond, and the ache in my chest somehow both grows and lessens as I realize that she’s fallen asleep in my lap.
Moving carefully so that I don’t disturb her, I lift her from my lap and lay her on the bed. I start to rise, but the knowledge that I’m not ready to be apart from her stops me. Once again being careful not to wake her, I stretch out beside her, using my left hand to gently brush her hair back from her tear-stained face before draping my arm over her waist. Several heartbeats later, she snuggles closer, and a quiet sigh slips from her as she nuzzles into my chest.
Though I know I shouldn’t let it, a faint tendril of hope unfurls within me.
“I’m sorry, Neets,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “For everything. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix this.”
‘I’ll do anything,’ I silently add. ‘Because I love you. I know I haven’t acted like it, but I swear, I still love you. I never stopped loving you. And I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that to you.’
I lie awake for a long while, just holding her. Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy; each time I blink, it takes me longer to open them again. I press myself just a bit closer to her, breathing in her scent of vanilla, lavender, and the faintest hint of mint, then placing a gentle kiss to her hair before I let sleep pull me under.
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 78/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 77 | Chapter 79 | Stardust masterlist
While reblogs are appreciated, I do not consent to have any of my works otherwise saved, copied, translated, and/or reposted in any fashion by any individual, corporation, and/or entity other than myself. I do not consent to have any of my works used in and/or with any type of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in any capacity.
MAY 5, 2024 — DELACROIX — DANICA
I lean against my bedroom door, turbulent emotions swirling within me.
‘James and I almost kissed…James and I almost kissed!’ I think.
Walking away was the right thing to do. I know that. Even though he apologised, the hurtful things he said and the way he behaved last night don’t just disappear…but neither do the years of longing, and of missing him, and of wishing he was here.
“You made the right choice,” I whisper. “This isn’t a movie; there’s not some beautiful, romantic reunion with hearts and flowers and dramatically-crescendoing orchestral music. A kiss wouldn’t fix anything…wouldn’t lead to some ‘happily ever after’.”
‘Even though that would be nice.’
Tears prick my eyes, and despite my best efforts to hold them back, I can’t. They run in hot rivulets down my cheeks as all of the stress, the hurt, and the soul-deep longing overwhelm me. I stumble to my bed and curl up on top of the comforter. James’s shirt is still in my bed, barely visible beneath the covers; I pull it to me, clinging to it tightly and burying my face in the fabric. Like last night, everything I feel pours from me in ragged, heaving sobs as the fragments of my bruised and battered heart somehow shatter even more.
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 77/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 76 | Chapter 78 | Stardust masterlist
While reblogs are appreciated, I do not consent to have any of my works otherwise saved, copied, translated, and/or reposted in any fashion by any individual, corporation, and/or entity other than myself. I do not consent to have any of my works used in and/or with any type of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in any capacity.
MAY 5, 2024 — DELACROIX — BUCKY
By the time Danica returns, Trae and I have finished her worksheet, and the pair give me a tour of the apartment. As we step out of the elevator, I’m surprised by just how spacious the accommodations are. Not that I expected the space to be small, given that it’s over a two-car garage…I just didn’t expect this.
There’s the elevator, which is across from stairs that Danica says we’ll use when we leave. The kitchen and living room are an open-concept layout, with two sliding barn doors behind the two-top café table leading to a large bedroom and an almost-equally-large bathroom. While I walk through the space, Danica takes a seat at one end of the three-seater couch, and Trae sprawls out on the chaise lounge portion. I step into the bedroom, passing the king-sized bed and built-in dresser drawers as I make my way to the window. It overlooks the front driveway, and I find myself staring out the glass, thinking how the events of this morning seem both fresh—which, of course, they are—and like they happened ages ago.
‘It’s the emotional fallout time-warp,’ I think, lingering at the window for a moment longer before I rejoin Danica and our daughter.
We file down the stairs, and I find myself in the middle, with Trae in the lead and—despite my insistence that she precede me—Danica last. As we reach the ground floor, I expect to backtrack through the garage and the mudroom, but Trae goes through the exterior door.
“So, to lock the door,” Danica says, waiting until I’ve turned to her to point out a keypad above the doorknob. “You press the padlock button.” She does, and I hear the deadbolt engage. “The only time you’ll need the code is to unlock them; don’t worry, it’s the same for all of them. One-zero-zero-three.”
I nod. “Got it.”
‘Why does that sound familiar?’ I wonder, but I don’t have time to dwell on it, because Trae interjects.
“More trampoline time!” she exclaims.
She grabs my hand and starts toward the back yard; as I follow her, I hear Danica laughing softly, and I can’t help the small grin that curves my lips.
‘Maybe—just maybe—forgiveness isn’t as far away as I thought.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Bucky. You were a raging asshole, and you’re lucky Danica’s as understanding as she is.’
‘Well, yeah, but—’
“Hey, Dad!” Trae once again interrupts my thoughts. “Watch this!”
She executes a backflip, and I feel my heart leap into my throat. Even though she sticks the landing with no problem, that sensation doesn’t fade, and I find myself tugging at the neck of my shirt and clearing my throat.
My daughter does a few more tricks—flips, pikes, and seat drops—before she again tries to get me to do some jumping of my own. When I cave and agree, she lets out an exuberant ‘whoop!’ and quickly climbs down, taking a seat on the screened-porch stairs while I climb onto the trampoline. I give a few experimental bounces, just to make sure the equipment can hold my weight.
“Do a flip!”
“Yeah, James,” Danica’s voice carries through the air as she joins our daughter on the steps, leaning against the railing. “Do a flip.”
Her tone holds a faintly teasing, playful tone; wanting to hear more, I decide to show off, just a little. I give several large jumps, getting enough air to make three full rotations in the air.
“Whoa!” Trae exclaims as I stick the landing. “That was awesome!”
I grin broadly at her, then shift my gaze to Danica. I see her fighting a smile, and before I can stop myself, I wink at her. Her face flushes scarlet, and she ducks her head…but I still notice that she’s unable to hold back her smile any longer.
‘A smile…that’s progress.’
The brief flare of hope I feel fades as Danica’s smile disappears.
“As entertaining as that was…I actually had a reason for coming out here.” She holds up a colander. “I’m getting started on supper, and I thought maybe you’d help Trae pick and snap some—”
“Peas!” our daughter interrupts!
She jumps up, and practically sprints over to the small garden. Danica watches her go, a loving smile on her face. I jump down from the trampoline and cross to the porch stairs, taking the colander from Danica.
“She’ll eat more than she puts in there if you don’t watch her,” she informs me, her tone tinged with amusement.
“Noted.” With a nod, I take the colander from her, then join Trae in the garden.
I find her gathering pea pods, and am slightly surprised by the sight.
“They’re…they’re purple.”
“Yeah! Mom let me pick them out. They’re called Sugar Magnolia Snap Peas,” Trae proudly informs me as she deposits the pods into the colander. “We used to have just two plants, but now we have ten!”
“You must really like them.”
“I do! They’re yummy! And look at this!” She picks another pod, then bites into it, turning it so that I can see the vibrant green interior. “Neat, huh?”
I nod. “Very.”
She gives me a broad, toothy grin, then moves to the next plant. We fill the colander, then I follow her inside, where we give the peas to Danica. She rinses them thoroughly, then shakes off the excess water before passing the colander back to me. Trae opens one of the lower cabinets, and takes out a large bowl.
“Astraea, don’t eat all of them while you show your father how to snap,” Danica remarks.
“Mommm,” Trae dramatically sighs, even as she giggles. “I promise.”
Chuckling quietly, I follow her out to the porch, where we settle onto the wicker sofa. She shows me how to snap the peas, and we work in comfortable silence. Between the two of us, the task goes by quickly, and soon, we’re returning inside; at her mother’s instructions, Trae goes to wash up.
“Thank you,” Danica says as I place the bowl of peas on the counter beside her cutting board.
“You’re welcome. Can, uh, can I do anything else?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Since you’re staying here, maybe you should go gather your things from Sarah’s—”
“They’re here.” I gesture toward the foyer. “My backpack.”
“Oh. I see.” She once again falls silent for a long moment. “Well, then…you’re good with a knife. You can help me chop.” She opens a tall, thin drawer beneath the counter, and removes a cutting board, placing it beside hers, then grabs a knife from the block and lays it across the board. “Those are all clean,” she nods toward a large bowl of vegetables. “The peppers get cut into strips, and the celery gets cut on the bias.” She hesitates briefly. “I hope you’re okay with chicken stir fry.”
I nod, then start on my task. I grab three red bell peppers from the bowl, seeding and slicing them while she finishes the mushrooms and starts on a couple of carrots. Silence settles between us as we work, and though it’s still awkward, it’s less so than before. Honestly, with the soft hum of water in the pipes—I assume from Trae taking a shower—and the rhythmic thunk of the knives against the cutting boards, it’s relatively soothing.
Soon, all of the vegetables are chopped, and Danica tasks me with cutting several chicken breasts into bite-sized pieces while she drains cans of baby corn and water chestnuts, then mixes up a stir fry sauce. Once all of the ingredients are ready to go, she gets started on the cooking. A damp-haired, pajama-clad Trae returns and, with no prompting, starts setting the table.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Danica says.
“You’re welcome, Mom.”
Soon, we’re all seated at the kitchen table, with steaming bowls of chicken stir fry and rice in front of us. As we eat, Danica goes over what I assume is a school-night checklist with our daughter, double-checking that her backpack’s packed, making sure she’s picked out her clothes for tomorrow, and asking if she’d like to buy or pack lunch.
I watch the pair, their easy, comfortable dynamic simultaneously filling me with warmth, joy, longing, and regret.
I know that me missing out on most of Trae’s life isn’t my fault; from everything I’ve learned since last night, I know that Danica was counting on Steve to tell me that she was alive and raising our daughter, since she had no way of contacting me herself.
‘Obviously, he didn’t do that,’ part of me snidely remarks.
Then, of course, there was The Snap. Even if Steve had told me about Danica and Trae—even if I’d been with them—I still would have missed those five years.
‘And don’t forget the fact that you ignored any and all calls on that flip phone,’ that same part adds. ‘Danica eventually did find a way to contact you. Sarah said that she called in November. Which means you could’ve talked to her months ago…you could’ve been here months ago. But no, you just—’
‘Stop it,’ I tell myself.
Pulling myself from my internal spiral, I see Danica looking at me, her expression quizzical. I give her a tight half smile, then turn my attention back to my food.
Through the rest of dinner, Trae talks less and less, and I can tell she’s getting sleepy.
‘She’s had a very eventful day and a half.’
‘You mean stressful. And it’s your fault,’ that snide part is back.
‘Shut up.’
Once we’re all finished with our food, I begin clearing the table. Danica protests, but relents when I tell her to just go ahead and tuck Trae in. With a murmured ‘thank you’ from her, and a hug from our daughter, the pair disappear upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I finish clearing the table and begin loading the dishwasher; I’ve just set the machine to run when I hear Danica’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Thank you again,” she says. “You didn’t ha—”
“I wanted to,” I interject. “Honestly, it’s the least I can do. You’re letting me stay here, and see our daughter, and—”
“I’d never stand in the way of you getting to know Astraea.” She pauses, swallowing audibly; when she continues, her voice is barely more than a whisper. “I…all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be part of her life. Of…” Her gaze drops from mine as she trails off, but I catch a flicker of what I’d swear is longing in her eyes.
‘Stop it. You’re being ridiculous,’ I chastise myself.
The words she said to me this morning, before Trae came downstairs, replay in my mind.
“I…I understand. It’s not okay…and I understand.”
‘See? She’s just being nice, Bucky. That’s all it is. Stop reading into things…stop projecting your feelings onto her.’
When Danica’s gaze returns to mine, that look is gone, replaced by a guarded, shuttered expression. I know it’s because of how I behaved, and guilt and shame unfurl within me. I want to say something—anything—to make that look in her eyes fade, and I know that I don’t have the words. I’m about to try, anyway, when she speaks again.
“Why don’t we go sit out on the dock?”
Pleasantly surprised, I nod. “I’d like that.”
We make our way to the end of the dock, where four Adirondack chairs form a loose semi-circle with two matching tables. Danica and I settle into two of the chairs and stare out at the water. As has been the norm today, uncomfortable silence descends between us; after several heavy moments, I break it.
“Look, I…I know this is awkward. I know that I made it that way by behaving the way I did…by saying the things I did.” I quietly clear my throat. “And I know you said that you understand. But Danica, I…I don’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable…not on my account. You said that you want me to be a part of Trae’s life, but you don’t have to…to suffer for that to happen.”
“‘Suffer’…you think that I’m suffering, having you here?”
“I—”
“Yes, I’m hurting, but not because you’re here!” She stands, and I do the same as she takes several steps toward the railing before turning back to me. “I’m hurting because all that I’ve wanted for years is for you to be here. To be with Astraea, and with me. I thought about how a reunion with you might look…I knew it would most likely be difficult, but I never expected it to go this poorly. And I know it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, James, it is.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I could have handled things differently. I could have figured out some way to let you know I was alive. I shouldn’t have relied on Steve. I—”
“Don’t.” I step closer, lessening the distance between us. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Danica.” I pause. “I told you that Sam and Sarah told me everything, and I don’t blame you. Not at all. I know that you did everything you could without drawing attention to yourself or our daughter, and without steamrolling over my autonomy.” I take another step closer. “I know my actions and behavior last night indicated otherwise, but I’m not upset with you, Danica. Not at all. As a matter of fact…I’m really, really proud of you. You’ve done an amazing job, making a life for yourself and our daughter. You have friends—a family—here, and have made sure that Trae has the same. And I know I’ve only been around for a day, but I can already see what an incredible mom you are. So, yeah…. I’m really proud of you.”
Her eyes mist, but she keeps her gaze on mine. I tentatively reach my right hand toward her cheek; to my surprise, she doesn’t move away, and something warm and bright sparks within me.
“And I…I’ve missed you, Neets,” I softly say, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “So much.”
She gasps, but doesn’t move away. The moment stretches between us, charged and poignant, and before I can stop them, my eyes drop to Danica’s lips.
“James,” she breathes, and that’s all it takes to completely shatter the last of my reservations.
I lean in, but just as my lips are about to meet hers, she steps back.
“I…I’m sorry,” her voice catches. “I c-can’t…I can’t do this.”
She pulls away from me and practically sprints toward the house, leaving me alone on the dock.
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 76/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 75 | Chapter 77 | Stardust masterlist
While reblogs are appreciated, I do not consent to have any of my works otherwise saved, copied, translated, and/or reposted in any fashion by any individual, corporation, and/or entity other than myself. I do not consent to have any of my works used in and/or with any type of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in any capacity.
MAY 5, 2024 — DELACROIX — BUCKY
“Mom?” Astraea asks, her eyes darting back and forth between Danica and me. “What’s going on?”
Her question hangs heavily in the air, and her brow furrows as her gaze continues to move between me and her mom. I see Danica open her mouth to reply, but I speak before she can.
“I was talking with your mom,” I say. “I apologised to her, and I was trying to explain myself.”
Astraea simply stares at me, her face completely expressionless, but her ocean-blue eyes—a blend of my steel blue and Danica’s cobalt—swirl with emotions.
‘Oh, God,’ I think. ‘How did I not see this sooner?’
‘Because you were too busy pushing away anything good to actually use your brain,’ part of me remarks, somewhat sarcastically.
I rise from the couch and walk over to Danica’s and my daughter, kneeling so that my eyes are level with hers.
“I’m sorry, Astraea. For everything I said and did. I’m sorry that I hurt you.” I pause. “I heard what you said to your mom last night. About how I don’t love you, or like you, or want to be your dad.” My voice catches on the word ‘dad’, and there’s a catch in my chest as I continue. “That’s not true. I know that I made a very big mistake. I know that I hurt you. I did a lot of things wrong, and I’m so sorry that I made you think that any of those things you said are true. They’re not.” I swallow thickly. “I don’t deserve a second chance…and I’m hoping that you’ll give me one. Because I’d really, really love to be your dad. Only if that’s what you want, though. It’s up to you, Astraea.”
Her gaze darts over my shoulder, and I know she’s looking at Danica, most likely for guidance and reassurance.
‘Please, let her give me a chance.’ I offer up the silent plea. ‘I’ll do right by her. I swear.’
Looking back at me, Astraea stares at me for what feels like eternity—but I know is only a brief moment—then flings her arms around me, burying her face against my neck. I’m stunned, and it takes me a second to return her embrace, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close.
“I’ve always loved you, Daddy,” she whispers, “and I forgive you.”
Her words completely shatter me, and a sob that’s a combination of regret, relief, gratitude, and happiness escapes me. I hear Danica sob, but I’m too focused on my—our—daughter for it to fully register. Much like I did with Danica on the stoop, I shift my position, adjusting so that Astraea is in my lap. I curl around her as I cry, and I can feel her crying as well, her little frame shaking as she sobs.
Eventually, our tears subside, and Astraea lets me go, leaning back to look at me. With my right hand, I carefully tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then rest my hand on her cheek.
“Thank you, Astraea. I’ll do everything in my power to be the best dad to you.”
I once again swallow thickly, then fall silent. The realization I had last night—after Sarah and Sam told me everything—weighs heavily on my heart.
‘Say it, Bucky,’ I tell myself. ‘Say it.’
I’m silent for another long minute, willing myself to be brave, then I speak.
“I love you, Astraea. And I’m going to prove it to you. Every single day. I promise.”
Her eyes rove over my face, and I see the moment she decides to trust my words.
“You have to pinky promise,” she murmurs. “That’s the best way to promise.”
She holds her right pinky out to me, and I solemnly link mine with hers. Her eyes stay fixed on mine, even after she releases my pinky, and I can’t help the amusement that creeps into my tone.
“Are we having a staring contest again?”
“Uh-huh! So can you just blink already, so I can win again?”
“Nope. You’ve gotta win fair and square. No tricks.”
“Rats,” she softly grumbles. “Fine.”
At Trae’s insistence, I’ve spent the rest of the morning with her and Danica. While it was awkward between me and my daughter at first, the discomfort was soon replaced by warmth.
She’d excitedly showed me her room, where I’d seen the framed photo of me on her nightstand. The sight had caused my heart to clench, and another wave of guilt and regret had washed over me. In a show of wisdom beyond her years, Trae had simply slipped her small hand into mine and given a gentle squeeze.
Once she declared the tour over, she’d practically dragged me to the back yard to show me her trampoline, and had begged me to watch her ‘do tricks’. She’d tried to get me to do some jumping of my own, but I’d been saved by Danica stepping onto the screened porch and announcing it was time for lunch.
While the awkwardness with Trae was quick to vanish, it was the opposite with Danica. I didn’t expect her to forgive me as quickly as our daughter did…after all, Trae didn’t hear a lot of the hurtful things I said; she didn’t know how awful my behavior was. But Danica…well, she heard everything: every misplaced thought, every cutting word, every barbed, scathing remark. Even though I’d said my piece, and we had talked some of it through, it wasn’t as if I thought everything would magically resolve.
That heavy discomfort still hangs in the air now, as I help Danica wash the few plates and glasses from our lunch. Trae disappeared upstairs to work on her homework, and without the buffer of our daughter, the atmosphere is thick with tension.
Silence fills the space between us, broken only by the whoosh of the running water, the soft squeak of the soapy sponge over the dishes as Danica scrubs them, and the faint whisper of the towel as I dry.
“I, um, I know that you were probably planning to stay at Sarah’s again,” Danica says as she rinses the last plate and hands it to me. She pauses, shutting off the tap and removing her dishwashing gloves, draping them over the edge of the sink before turning toward me. Her eyes meet mine for just a moment before she drops her gaze, focusing on what I assume is my shirt collar. “But, y-you, um, y’know, you…you’re welcome to st-stay above the garage. In the, uh, the,” she quietly clears her throat, “in the apartment. If you w-want.”
“Yes,” I reply, barely letting her finish speaking. “I’d like that.”
‘And that’s not going to make things more awkward,’ I sarcastically think as I internally cringe at my eagerness.
She nods, still avoiding meeting my eyes. “Okay. I, um…I’ll have to go to the store. There are some canned goods in the pantry, but there’s no coffee or—”
“You don’t need to do that, Neets.”
The nickname just slips out, and Danica flinches as if I’ve struck her, then steps away from me and begins putting the clean dishes away.
‘Shit. Great job, Bucky.’
I start to apologize, but stop when I hear Trae rapidly descending the stairs.
“Dad, will you help me with my homework?” she asks as she bursts the kitchen, paper in one hand and pencil in the other. “It’s fractions,” she holds the paper—a worksheet—out to me. “See?”
“I see,” I nod. “Why don’t we sit over there,” I gesture to the kitchen table, “and work on this?”
“Okay!”
Trae makes her way to the table, and I follow; once we’re settled, we start on the first problem.
“‘Equivalent fractions’,” I read. “‘Equivalent fractions have the same value, even though they may have different numerators and denominators’.” I pause, pointing to the first problem. “So, this circle is split into three parts and two of those are colored in…and it says it’s two-thirds. This circle is split into how many parts?”
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,” Trae counts under her breath. “Nine!” she exclaims.
“Nine,” I nod. “So, does that go in the numerator or the denominator?”
“The denominator. Because that’s the whole thing.” She starts to fill in the bottom space but stops, her pencil hovering just above the paper as she looks up at me. “Right?”
“Right.” She writes the number down. “Now, how many of those are colored in?”
She once again counts softly. “Six!”
As she writes that number in the top spot, Danica speaks.
“Astraea, your father is going to stay in the apartment. So whi—”
“You are?!” my daughter exclaims, looking up at me.
“Yeah. I am.”
She lets out an excited whoop, and a brilliant smile forms on her face; my heart swells with joy and love as I take in her expression.
“So,” Danica continues, “while you two work on that, I’m going to start a load of laundry and then get the apartment ready. Make the bed, put out fresh towels…that sort of thing.”
“Okay, Mom!” Trae chirps.
“Thank you,” I tell Danica.
She gives me a short nod, then turns on her heel and leaves the room.
