Masterlist
🦾 Marvel
🥃 Peaky Blinders
Claire Keane
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Origami Around
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms

roma★

★
h
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

oozey mess

pixel skylines

ellievsbear

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Belarus

seen from Netherlands
seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands

seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Pakistan
seen from Pakistan

seen from Germany

seen from Germany
@urimaginespimp
Masterlist
🦾 Marvel
🥃 Peaky Blinders
What remains of me
Summary: You prayed for peace but never expected for God to send down Alfie Solomons instead, who finally made you realise to be careful about what you pray for.
Monster!Alfie Solomons x Reader
A/n: This fic was heavily inspired by the movie Nosferatu. This may be slightly self indulgent but I really wanted to do something for Halloween. Do let me know what you think!
Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
Word count: 5.5k
Content Warning: Psychological abuse, Gore and Violence, Religious or spiritual themes, Emotional trauma, Body horror, cannibalism, Distorted imagery, Dubcon, Dead Dove do not eat.
“Lord,” you prayed.
“Send me company. I’ve been alone for far too long. Send me anyone…anyone…just to ease this pain of mine. My heart aches for it” your poor hands were shaking and your tears streamed helplessly before you could even say amen.
“Let me be desirable. Let me be the one to satiate someone’s hunger. Let me worth someone time”
benedict “please do not go” bridgerton vs sophie “move out of your house, you’re fucking up my work environment” baek
come back to me | b. barnes
⋆✴︎˚。⋆ synopsis: it’s been three years since you and Bucky called it quits. you learned to live without him, to stop waiting for a knock that would never come. until tonight, when he shows up at your front door with his team and tired eyes, asking for a place to crash. his presence, bathed in the soft light of your doorstep, stirs feelings long buried—ones you thought had vanished the night he did.
-> pairing: post-thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader
-> disclaimers: so much angst that it’s sickening, yearning, cursing, minor use of y/n, reader and bucky are exes, the thunderbolts are a found family and i make sure of it, bucky has relationship insecurity, unresolved tension, i got carried away with angst (peep word count), bucky and his beautiful dyson airwrap blowout, happy ending.
-> word count: 10k+ (BYEEEE)
-> song rec: cardigan by taylor swift
-> a/n: first ever fic on this blog and it’s angst. i thrive off of tense silence and painful longing. it’s long but worth it (this deserved length)
Like real people do
an Alfie Solomons x fem!OC short story
London, 1928.
Sadie tries to adjust to her life after a war that took everything. Alfie isn’t doing much better. But finding her again after a decade is not a simple twist of fate; he’s determined to convince her. Even with a husband standing in the way and the shared fears of the future, Alfie wants nothing but bring her back to life. Whatever it takes.
France, 1917.
Sadie can’t think of anything but survival. Saving soldiers in a tent wasn’t in her dreams, but where else could she go? Captain Solomons is in bad shape too. Until he meets her. In some sad way, Alfie Solomons already knows they’ll never love each other like real people do. Her sweetheart is on the front, and nurses don’t chat up the broken. She has just saved his life, after all.
— one, May 1928
— two, July 1917
— three, May 1928
— four, August 1917
— five, May 1928
(— six, August 1917)
Like real people do
Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC
[warnings: war trauma, slight violence, angst
AN: I’d forgotten how much I love this story. I wrote the first half months ago and stopped thinking about it, too busy writing about Johnny. I also thought writing short chapters would make me post more regularly, but it's somehow even worse. Anyway, I'm back at it, and I love it so much. It’s everything I love.]
masterlist | previous part
— five
May 1928, London
Like real people do
Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC
[warnings: war trauma, slight violence, OC is getting followed by a creep, cursing, angst, mentions of death.
AN: I wrote this first chapter weeks ago when I still had no idea where this would lead, and it's surely the most cliché of all. I really, really love it though. I hope you do too.]
— one
May 1928, London
The contact of your palm against the man’s jaw echoed through the silent street, louder than the pigeon's fluttering wings as it startled into flight. You froze for a second, not quite believing you had really slapped a stranger—though he deserved it—and suddenly took off, running like you had never done before across the slippy cobblestones. Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest, but you didn’t stop. With one glance behind, you cursed when you saw his short frame getting closer, racing behind you.
He’d get you and do more than call you a whore, wouldn’t he? The mere thought made you stumble over your feet when you took a sharp turn, nearly falling face down into a puddle.
“You fuckin’ bitch!”
A whimper escaped your throat. It felt like you were merely running anymore, just taking large steps that would be enough to get you killed, one hand holding your hat on top of your head. There was only one solution left if you wanted to escape the man: burst through the first door you found and try to hide. The sun was setting already; now wasn’t the right moment to get lost.
And burst through a random door you did. You slammed it behind you with trembling hands, the back of your head thudding against the wood as you leaned against it.
It was only when you opened your eyelids that you saw the men standing across the room, visibly interrupted. You couldn’t discern their faces due to the lack of light, but you knew you had cut into something important anyway.
A faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air, but you didn’t focus on that. You stared at the shadows crammed between barrels, gasping breaths as you tried to think of what to do. Open the door again and head out, where the other one was waiting? Pretend you were lost?
“You are…?”
Flinching at the voice addressing you, you licked your lips nervously and cleared your throat.
“Lost,” you said, which made the shorter man scoff.
“Clearly.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you added, your left hand growing closer to the doorknob where freedom might await you if you were lucky enough.
Though you knew you were trapped in here too, and luck was a foreign concept. It made no doubt when the tallest one limped over to you, his burly frame causing you to swallow down any other stupid word that might come out.
Your heartbeat quickened as he stopped in front of you, staring down at your face like you were nothing but a lost deer. He was a large man, and in all honesty, his white shirt did nothing to conceal the musculature of his chest.
You’d never been so troubled by another human being before, and yet here you were. Or perhaps once, long ago. Love at first sight didn’t exist in this world, but you were close to it. Yet, there was something so… familiar to him, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Some… feeling at second sight, that was. His eyes reminded you of something long forgotten.
“Fuckin’ hell," he turned around to his friend, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Is she any of yours, Tommy?”
God, that voice. It would command an entire squadron.
“What use would she be to me?” the other, Tommy, replied from his spot.
His sharp features had you staring a second too long. He looked almost bored, though, not half as interested as the one leaning closer to your face.
“Who are you?” the tall one demanded, his sweaty warmth coasting over you.
“I–” you started, trailing off when you thought about the shitty position you were in. “Look, I’ll just go home and we’ll forget about this, alright? I’ve made a mistake coming here. It's on me."
A boisterous knock on the door had you sauntering further away. Fuck. It could only be that arsehole you had managed to leave behind.
Your gaze slowly traveled back to the tall man, whose bearded chin gave a persuasive jerk toward the door.
“Right then. Go home, love.”
After a long hesitation, your feet led you back to the front of the door. No matter how much you willed yourself to open it, you were terrified at the idea of meeting the creep again. It was easy for them, doing whatever business they had in a safe and slightly scary storage building, while women like you had to physically reject men’s advances. You bet they even found it funny. Could they not guess you'd sacrificed yourself for men all those years ago, only to get this as a payback? You’d open the door and run until your lungs threatened to explode. And then? Where even were you?
“Fuckin’ knew it,” the marked accent spoke behind you, as if detecting your inner turmoil. “That was in your plans, wasn’t it?”
Spinning on your heels, you opened your mouth to repeat it was just a mistake, but the other man cut you off. Better to keep your mouth shut, then.
“I don’t know the girl, Alfie,” the second one shot a glance at you, clearly unwilling to help if needed.
“You don’t?” that Alfie said, his tone warm as honey as your hand tightened against the doorknob.
Did he really think you’d come all this way to spy on him? How stupid was that?
Think, damn it! His name was not so foreign.
Maybe this was your way out. Alfie. You’d met three during the war, but they had probably left this world by now, carried off by grief or their mental and physical wounds.
“Maybe our new friend is going give us a fuckin’ clue at some point, yeah?” he nearly spat in your face, seizing your arm.
Rough but warm. That’s when it clicked.
“Captain Solomons,” you breathed out, allowing yourself to slightly relax.
He wouldn't hurt you.
Yet, you felt slightly wounded by his lack of response, watching his breath get heavier like the two words had shot him once again. This time, no piercing cry filled the hospital tent. You bet it was as painful, though.
“Sadie Murray, sir," you removed the hat from your head, hoping the face reveal would have some sort of softening effect on the situation. "I reckon I’ve stitched you up a couple of years ago.”
Holding out your hand, you tried desperately to reach for a white flag, only met with Solomons’ blank stare. So you lowered your arm, taking a step backward instead–as much as you could, as you were now leaning against the door. Something flashed in Solomon’s eyes as he visibly realized something, too. He scrutinized you longer, examining every controlled breath, the flutter of your lashes, and the details of your cheeks.
Your heart drummed erratically with each passing second. Not all memories were good to be reminded of.
“Leave us now, Shelby,” Alfie’s voice suddenly filled the room, making you flinch.
Tommy released a strained sigh. “Not until we agree on my terms.”
The staring contest between the two men was ridiculous. It was only when a door opened in the back of the building, sunlight flooding the room, that you recognized the second man as well. The name Shelby now rang a bell. You remembered all the stories you’d heard about him–and judging by the meeting that had occurred just a few minutes prior, you could only suppose Mr Solomons was not someone you'd want to associate with either. It was too late to think of the consequences now anyway.
You had no time to slip through the doorway, as swift as you were. Despite being focused on Shelby, Solomon’s hand had grasped you even tighter, not one look shot in your direction. Instinct and panic overtook you instantly as you tried to wiggle out of his grip. The fucker was strong.
“Let me go!” you hissed, ignoring Shelby’s sardonic snort a few feet away.
“No,” Alfie Solomons’s eyes met yours again, and you hated that amused spark in his eyes. “You, Mrs Murray, are stayin’ with me. We’re gonna have a short conversation, yeah?”
You couldn’t believe a conversation with him would ever be ‘short’ anyway. You’d experienced it once. The hours spent talking about everything that came to your mind. He’d been a different man then. Not the frightening… hot as hell kind of man. You barely recognised him, and the contrast hurt. Who had you loved?
“Don’t touch me,” you pushed against his chest in one last effort, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "We can talk without you locking me up, can't we?"
A few heads popped out from nowhere, curiously gazing at the reason you were shouting. Clearly, no one else was going to get you out of here.
Andrew wouldn’t come. Whether he was at the theatre or the pub–if you believed what he told you–he would tell you to stop being paranoid. He was quite right, deep down. You really were.
“Bye, Tommy. Fuck off, Tommy,” Solomons almost chanted, walking away, and you had no choice but to follow.
And that hallway was fucking endless. Where was the end of it? Why did the men stop moving every time Solomons walked past them? He was like a hurricane. Not even his slowed movements made him any less intimidating.
You remembered him telling you about a bakery one day, but the memory was as hazy as the rest, and it had sounded less… important, coming from his mouth. You'd imagined a small family-owned shop, not an entire dark building where men stored bottles.
After what felt like forever, still clutching your arm like his life depended on it, Solomons walked up a narrow flight of stairs. He hollered something about flour to a young lad and finally pushed open a door. A new wave of panic flooded you as you studied the room that featured a single window, a disorderly desk, and dark wooden furniture. You wished you knew how to compliment one's office, but you lingered on the threshold, already picturing him hitting you, or… shooting you, or anything you could think of.
“Take a seat.”
His tone could have been mistaken for welcoming, but you were on watch. Raising your gaze to his, you slightly narrowed your eyes in wariness and checked that no one was standing behind you.
“Have you become deaf by any chance, Miss Murray?” Solomons’ voice, though sweet once, became harsher.
An odd thumping began in your chest as he stepped in your direction, as though he wouldn’t be afraid to throw you on the armchair himself.
“Don’t touch me,” you repeated before you could even think, feeling his inquisitive gaze on your back as you went to sit down shakily. "I'm sitting down."
The leather of the armchair reeked of alcohol.
Solomons headed to a small wooden cabinet behind his desk, pouring himself a drink while taking all his time. You stared at his back and every move he made, knowing where it hurt and when the random shootings of pain likely occurred. Others would never know about it; you knew he was too full of himself to admit he was weakened. But you did know, in a deeper way, and it felt like a secret only the both of you shared.
Checking the golden liquid in the light, Solomons turned around to have a look at you. Like he was weighing the pros and cons of having you here against your will.
But once again, what could you threaten him with? Reveal to everyone he had killed that Italian man eleven years ago with that nail up his nose? What was scary about that? They’d probably seen worse, all of them.
“I hadn’t recognized you at first,” Solomons broke your frantic train of thought, settling comfortably across the desk. “Must be the hair.”
“What can I say?" you mumbled, the phrase painfully shy. "War changes people, doesn't it?”
He made a sound in his throat. “War, huh? Hope you were a bit bolder there.”
The irony of it all.
“You’ve seen it with your own eyes, haven’t you? I didn’t really have a choice.”
The corner of his lips tugged, taking his beard along with it. “I do remember, yeah. Fierce little thing you were.”
You scoffed softly at that, looking down at your hands resting on your lap. Red and orange streetlights blurred beyond the windows, adding to the warm light coming off his lamp desk. It felt like a completely different world here.
“You didn’t seem so cruel back there, M. Solomons.”
“War changes people, right,” he slouched in his seat, so damn intimidating. Definitely a different man. “I’d be dead if I weren’t cruel, as you say.”
It sounded silly. You couldn’t believe a baker had to be cruel to survive. If he had ever been, that was.
Talking about death.
“Well, most of them did leave this world after you left,” you muttered, willing yourself to speak a bit louder. You weren’t sure why you were coaxing him into feeling the weight of the aftermath, but it was the only thing you could think of. The only thing you’d wish to confess about after he was gone, when no one was willing to listen. “Thought you’d… I didn’t think you’d made it back to England, actually.”
“Didn’t think I’d make it either.”
Glancing up, you met Alfie’s gaze and it was suddenly clearer. As if the bombs were still exploding near you, and the ground was still shaking. You saw his face then. The fear had wrinkled his face, and that brown vest made him look older. Just like you, you supposed. Beneath that beard, he probably thought he’d been reduced to nothing more than a veteran.
You knew he was so much more, even remembered all his layers, but what good would it be finding all about it again? Eleven years had passed. He had moved on, just like you had.
Shutting your eyes close for a second, you tried to get a hold of yourself, rubbing your eyes. If Alfie wasn’t willing to speak, then maybe you could fill the silence and gently ask him to let you go home.
“I–I have trouble. Remembering faces. Um… They call that dissociative amnesia. Whatever that means. I’m not… I’m not so bold anymore, you see.”
“But you remember me, yeah? You do.”
At that, your heart beat a little faster. All his focus was directed at you. The centre of his world for a minute, like he had been yours during the fights.
“There are things I find rather memorable. Some faces.”
“Memorable, eh?” Alfie leaned forward on his seat, resting his elbows on his legs. “I could say the same about you. I’ve dreamt of you stitching me up more than I can count, you know. Almost shot myself to see you again."
Your soft chuckle pulled another smile to your lips. Now filled with deep feelings of sorrow and sheepishness, you could only think of crying in bed. God, that day couldn’t get stranger.
"I'm done stitching people up," you admitted, holding his gaze. "Now I deliver babies."
Alfie nodded slowly. "A midwife, right?"
A gentle smile curved your mouth. "Yes, sir."
"Yeah, I always knew you'd end up doing something like this."
Alfie's lips twitched with something you thought was pride, filling the void in your stomach with so much warmth.
You hadn’t meant to get so defensive and hysterical so fast, but he’d been scary as hell, hadn’t he? It was hard to find the balance between the two personalities now. In the mayhem of it all, you didn’t know what to believe, and whose face to talk to. One thing was sure, Alfie had not forgotten about you.
QUEEN CHARLOTTE: A BRIDGERTON STORY (2023—) 01×06 : “Crown Jewels”
Can I call you her name? (One-Shot S.R)
Steve Rogers x Reader
Masterlist
Summary:Scenes of how your relationship with Steve began, how he won your heart and how he broke it.
What good is love when it only hurts you? 12.6 k words
Content Warning: Angst, heartbreak, Friends with benefits? (Steve gives mixed signs), mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Oral f receiver, penetrative sex, slight mentions of oral sex m receiver, slight mentions of rough sex, Steve has a big dick.) Steve is also a dick, fluff but in the deceptive way. A/N:There will be a second part to this, more info on it here. Part 2 is already out.
Post dividers by @firefly-graphics
Steve Rogers isn’t like any other man you’ve met before.
The friendly, charismatic, innocent persona the public eye knows was your first impression of him. It would be hard to think of him otherwise when the media couldn’t stop talking about how brave and kind he is.
Maybe that's what brought you towards him in the first place. The good, nice, and kind Steve Rogers that wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Steve Rogers is good.
Just not in the way everyone thinks.
Winter’s Time - Part 1
Read the PROLOGUE here.
Blurb: After 60 blissful years of marriage with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife took her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
——
“And if I die?” Bucky huffs, as he waits for Shuri to finish setting up the time device.
It’s been three days since Shuri asked him to do the tests with her time traveling serum, with the upside of seeing his deceased wife again.
“Quit being a drama queen, White Wolf. You don’t want to spook younger Y/N with your defined wrinkles,” she replied nonchalantly, double-checking that everything is set up and walking over to the safe to get the syringe.
Bucky rolls his eyes from her reply. Even when she looks a lot older than him now, she never lost her wit. A small smile formed on his face, remembering how you and Shuri got along pretty well and would gang up on him. He wonders if she misses you too. He was so busy wallowing in his own grief, that he failed to ask how other people close to you were holding up.
“Do you ever miss her too?” He clears his throat, asking.
“You mean if I ever miss the only woman, I had closest to a sister?” she raises a brow at his question, and finally injects him by his inner arm
“I know, stupid question. Just making small talk,” he grumbles, making Shuri laugh.
“I know you’re nervous about this little experiment. But you have nothing to worry about.” she guides him to the platform. “How do you feel?”
He gives his arm a little flex. “My arm’s a little tingly but it’s nothing bad.” His eyes go a little wide at the appearance of green blanks, resembling a date format on his inner arm.
“That’s good.” Shuri’s own eyes were glued to his forearm. “Choose a date. Preferably one where you haven’t met yet and a day where something significant happens that will make it to the news.”
Bucky thinks hard of a good year. “We met the summer of 2026 and she was 23.” He starts adjusting the numbers on his forearm. “Let’s do two years before that.”
“Good call. You’ll feel different in a bit, and for safety’s sake, come back within an hour, please? So, I can make sure that your vitals are normal.”
“An hour. Got it.” He was bracing himself for any sort of impact, already coughing a little, when he heard Shuri mutter a curse. “What’s wrong?!” he slightly panicked.
Shuri beamed. “I’m not sure if clothes travel too.”
And then his vision went black.
—-
Landing on concrete with a thud, Bucky groans from the dizziness. It’s been years since he’s felt this physically vulnerable thanks to the super-soldier serum. A gust of wind suddenly made him more alert.
“Oh fuck.” he mutters, standing up. No clothes, but luckily his metal arm is still attached to him. Looking at his real arm where the serum was injected, he was relieved that the date in green was still there. Thank god he was on some rooftop.
“Mr. Lee? There’s a naked man here in the rooftop. I’ve never seen him before.” A voice whispering in panic was coming from the shed where the door back to the inside of the building was. “No, he doesn’t seem drunk, but he’s butt naked and has a prosthetic arm. About late forties, I think.”
“I can hear you, you know.” He finally stands up and snatches the nearest blanket on the clothesline to cover himself.
“Oh my god. He heard me, Mr. Lee. All I have near here is a flat basketball and some takeout containers.” the voice was still whispering but now in a greater state of panic. But even then, it sounded feminine.
And all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
Keep reading
#bucky #buckybarnes #jamesbarnes #buckyxxreader #buckyfanfic #buckyimagine #avengersfic #buckyxxyou
Winter’s Time - Part 1
Read the PROLOGUE here.
Blurb: After 60 blissful marriage years with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife breathed her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
——
“And if I die?” Bucky huffs, as he waits for Shuri to finish setting up the time device.
It’s been three days since Shuri asked him to do the tests with her time traveling serum, with the upside of seeing his deceased wife again.
“Quit being a drama queen, White Wolf. You don’t want to spook younger Y/N with your defined wrinkles,” she replied nonchalantly, double-checking that everything is set up and walking over to the safe to get the syringe.
Bucky rolls his eyes from her reply. Even when she looks a lot older than him now, she never lost her wit. A small smile formed on his face, remembering how you and Shuri got along pretty well and would gang up on him. He wonders if she misses you too. He was so busy wallowing in his own grief, that he failed to ask how other people close to you were holding up.
“Do you ever miss her too?” He clears his throat, asking.
“You mean if I ever miss the only woman, I had closest to a sister?” she raises a brow at his question, and finally injects him by his inner arm
“I know, stupid question. Just making small talk,” he grumbles, making Shuri laugh.
“I know you’re nervous about this little experiment. But you have nothing to worry about.” she guides him to the platform. “How do you feel?”
He gives his arm a little flex. “My arm’s a little tingly but it’s nothing bad.” His eyes go a little wide at the appearance of green blanks, resembling a date format on his inner arm.
“That’s good.” Shuri’s own eyes were glued to his forearm. “Choose a date. Preferably one where you haven’t met yet and a day where something significant happens that will make it to the news.”
Bucky thinks hard of a good year. “We met the summer of 2026 and she was 23.” He starts adjusting the numbers on his forearm. “Let’s do two years before that.”
“Good call. You’ll feel different in a bit, and for safety’s sake, come back within an hour, please? So, I can make sure that your vitals are normal.”
“An hour. Got it.” He was bracing himself for any sort of impact, already coughing a little, when he heard Shuri mutter a curse. “What’s wrong?!” he slightly panicked.
Shuri beamed. “I’m not sure if clothes travel too.”
And then his vision went black.
—-
Landing on concrete with a thud, Bucky groans from the dizziness. It’s been years since he’s felt this physically vulnerable thanks to the super-soldier serum. A gust of wind suddenly made him more alert.
“Oh fuck.” he mutters, standing up. No clothes, but luckily his metal arm is still attached to him. Looking at his real arm where the serum was injected, he was relieved that the date in green was still there. Thank god he was on some rooftop.
“Mr. Lee? There’s a naked man here in the rooftop. I’ve never seen him before.” A voice whispering in panic was coming from the shed where the door back to the inside of the building was. “No, he doesn’t seem drunk, but he’s butt naked and has a prosthetic arm. About late forties, I think.”
“I can hear you, you know.” He finally stands up and snatches the nearest blanket on the clothesline to cover himself.
“Oh my god. He heard me, Mr. Lee. All I have near here is a flat basketball and some takeout containers.” the voice was still whispering but now in a greater state of panic. But even then, it sounded feminine.
And all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
Keep reading
🦾 Marvel ⍟
🦾 Bucky
SERIES :
This Love (Complete) - A multi-chapter fic between the reader and Bucky in different settings of the MCU, starting with them meeting during Civil War, up to TFAWTS.
Parts:
-Prologue
-Gorgeous
-Tolerate It
-Epiphany
-Breathe
-Last Kiss
-Happiness
-Untouchable
-How You Get the Girl
Winter’s Time (on going) - After 60 blissful marriage years with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife breathed her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
Parts:
-Prologue
-Part 1
ONE-SHOTS/1-2 PARTS STORIES:
Boyfriend Material - some good ol mutual pinning, featuring Sam and his antics.
A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong ideas - sick reader being nursed by Bucky + teammates getting wrong ideas. Dare Coupons and Wrong Ideas (pt 2)
The Wrong Bait - Nat was supposed to be the one to get close to the target, but the initial plan goes down the drain when the target starts hitting on you instead.
Winter’s Time - Part 1
Read the PROLOGUE here.
Blurb: After 60 blissful marriage years with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife breathed her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
——
“And if I die?” Bucky huffs, as he waits for Shuri to finish setting up the time device.
It’s been three days since Shuri asked him to do the tests with her time traveling serum, with the upside of seeing his deceased wife again.
“Quit being a drama queen, White Wolf. You don’t want to spook younger Y/N with your defined wrinkles,” she replied nonchalantly, double-checking that everything is set up and walking over to the safe to get the syringe.
Bucky rolls his eyes from her reply. Even when she looks a lot older than him now, she never lost her wit. A small smile formed on his face, remembering how you and Shuri got along pretty well and would gang up on him. He wonders if she misses you too. He was so busy wallowing in his own grief, that he failed to ask how other people close to you were holding up.
“Do you ever miss her too?” He clears his throat, asking. Shuri was already
“You mean if I ever miss the only woman, I had closest to a sister?” she raises a brow at his question, and finally injects him by his inner arm
“I know, stupid question. Just making small talk,” he grumbles, making Shuri laugh.
“I know you’re nervous about this little experiment. But you have nothing to worry about.” she guides him to the platform. “How do you feel?”
He gives his arm a little flex. “My arm’s a little tingly but it’s nothing bad.” His eyes go a little wide at the appearance of green blanks, resembling a date format on his inner arm.
“That’s good.” Shuri’s own eyes were glued to his forearm. “Choose a date. Preferably one where you haven’t met yet and a day where something significant happens that will make it to the news.”
Bucky thinks hard of a good year. “We met the summer of 2026 and she was 23.” He starts adjusting the numbers on his forearm. “Let’s do two years before that.”
“Good call. You’ll feel different in a bit, and for safety’s sake, come back within an hour, please? So, I can make sure that your vitals are normal.”
“An hour. Got it.” He was bracing himself for any sort of impact, already coughing a little, when he heard Shuri mutter a curse. “What’s wrong?!” he slightly panicked.
Shuri beamed. “I’m not sure if clothes travel too.”
And then his vision went black.
—-
Landing on concrete with a thud, Bucky groans from the dizziness. It’s been years since he’s felt this physically vulnerable thanks to the super-soldier serum A gust of wind suddenly made him more alert.
“Oh fuck.” he mutters, standing up. No clothes, but luckily his metal arm is still attached to him. Looking at his real arm where the serum was injected, he was relieved that the date in green was still there. Thank god he was on some rooftop.
“Mr. Lee? There’s a naked man here in the rooftop. I’ve never seen him before.” A voice whispering in panic was coming from the near entrance to the building. “No, he doesn’t seem drunk, but he’s butt naked and has a prosthetic arm. About late forties, I think.”
“I can hear you, you know.” He finally stands up and snatches the nearest blanket on the clothesline to cover himself.
“Oh my god. He heard me, Mr. Lee. All I have near here is a flat basketball and some takeout containers.” the voice was still whispering but now in a greater state of panic. But even then, it sounded feminine.
And all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
And she started screaming like a mad woman.
Before he could even try to explain himself, something hit the side of his forehead. What the hell? He thought, bringing his hand up to it. Looking at the ground, it was a black heeled shoe. She threw her shoe at him.
“How do you know my name?! I still have another shoe here with me and worse weapons!” she threatens, trying to sound tougher while still hiding.
“A deflated basketball and takeout containers?” He hadn’t even seen you yet, but this mere interaction already had his mood up.
He listens to your stammer for a few seconds before finally speaking up again.
“I’m really sorry for frightening you. But I swear I’m not here to hurt you.”
“That’s exactly what a naked murderer would say.”
“What?” he shakes his head, thinking of a way to convince you. “I know you. And I swear I’m not a stalker. We- I. I’m from the future.” He was well aware of how crazy he sounds but what else could he say?
“Okay…” her response caught him off guard.
“W- what do you mean ‘ok’? Are you nuts?! What if I was a crazy man?” He asks, forgetting that she has no idea who he is yet. His protectiveness of just kicking in.
“So, you admit that you’re crazy.” Ha! She felt smug.
God, I’ve missed you. He couldn’t help thinking.
“Look, let me start over. I’m Bucky. We know each other… well, WILL know each other in about two years.” He started speaking slower. Met with silence, he listened intently to hear any movement from you. When the sound of light footsteps could finally be heard, his breathing hitched as you finally came out of your hiding spot and faced him.
There you were, 21 years old, as beautiful as he remembers you, but you were looking wary. No matter, he thought. He’ll try to talk to you.
“Prove it before my landlord gets here.” you said, the absurdity of the situation is still sinking in.
“You mean old man Stan? Yeah, we’ll have till morning till he gets up here ‘cause I’m guessing your elevator’s broken again.” He scoffed.
“Knowledge about my landlord’s weak knees doesn’t prove anything.”
“Right. Sorry.” He’s thinking of where to start. “It’s October 22nd, right?”
You nodded at him.
“Later at around 10 pm, your favorite sitcom will announce its cancellation.” Out of all the significant events he could think of for the year, this is the one he remembers the most. Why? Cause even years down the line, you’d still get all riled up when you remember it. Saying how you almost threw your phone the moment that “tragic night” happened.
“You’re not funny.” you replied with a stoic face. “How I Met Your Step Mom’s ratings are not that well but it has a large fanbase.”
He tried not to laugh at your defensives for that god-awful show.
“Well, it’s 5 minutes till 10, so you have till then to run away before my landlord gets here and the cops take you to a psych ward.”
“Okay, but if my prediction is correct, will you make old man Stan go away and hear me out?”
You thought about it for a few seconds, maybe even a minute, who knows. Here was this man, only wearing a plaid blanket, and claiming he’s from the future. He knows your name, your landlord, your favorite sitcom – which nobody else knows about- and he appeared out of thin air. You know, because you were really 100% sure you were the only one in the rooftop before hearing a thud.
“I’ve seen aliens from the sky, people turn to dust and go back years later. At this point, I’ll believe anything but I’m still being cautious.” you explained.
“I understand. If you still don’t believe me in 2 minutes, I’d gladly leave. I give you my word.”
“Ok. Two minutes till 10.”
You looked at him from head to toe. He isn’t bad looking, you’d even so much as say he was handsome if he were younger. His hair had a bit of grey, but it won’t be as obvious if it weren’t for the bright light post above him.
And suddenly your phone pinged. And then it pinged again, and again. Heck, you were being flooded with notifications.
“I’m guessing that’s you fanbase group chat blowing up.” He says, looking directly at you.
Without breaking eye contact, your shaky hand slowly brought your phone right in front of you. In those mere seconds, articles upon articles and reactions of anger and despair were, sure enough, flooding your fans-club group chat.
Trying to compose yourself, you finally spoke again. “How do I know you’re actually not from the press or just have some Hollywood connection?”
He raised his eyebrow at you. “Does it look like I am, doll?”
“No.” You answered quietly. Okay, this was fucking crazy. You thought. But you did say you’d hear him out.
“Where is he?! I’ll box him! The streets didn’t fear me back in the day for nothing!” Your old landlord’s voice rang as he got closer upstairs. Damn that unreliable elevator.
“I feel bad making him go all the way up here.” You said quietly, still looking at the stranger in front of you.
He gave you a small smile like he knew you won’t let the old man face the stairs on his own again.
“We’ll talk next time. I promise it won’t be as spooky.”
You gave him a courteous smile. “When?’
“Possibly 3 nights from now. If I don’t make it then, I’ll find you.” he says, and you nod in response, noticing how he seems to be doing something on his forearm.
“I’m James.”
“I’m Y/N.”
“I know.” He flashes you a smile, and you swear his eyes looked like they had unshed tears in them but then he vanished right before your eyes.
And before you could fully comprehend what just happened, the door finally opened.
“Where is the man?! Did you hurt ya?! Your good ol’ landlord, Mr. Stan Lee finally appeared.
Shaking your head to get your mind straight, you started sputtering out excuses about how it was actually a friend playing a prank on you, before offering to help him down the stairs.
____
Thank you for reading! I’m quite excited on how this would turn out. Have a nice day!
Winter’s Time - Part 1
Read the PROLOGUE here.
Blurb: After 60 blissful years of marriage with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife took her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
------
“And if I die?” Bucky huffs, as he waits for Shuri to finish setting up the time device.
It’s been three days since Shuri asked him to do the tests with her time traveling serum, with the upside of seeing his deceased wife again.
“Quit being a drama queen, White Wolf. You don’t want to spook younger Y/N with your defined wrinkles,” she replied nonchalantly, double-checking that everything is set up and walking over to the safe to get the syringe.
Bucky rolls his eyes from her reply. Even when she looks a lot older than him now, she never lost her wit. A small smile formed on his face, remembering how you and Shuri got along pretty well and would gang up on him. He wonders if she misses you too. He was so busy wallowing in his own grief, that he failed to ask how other people close to you were holding up.
“Do you ever miss her too?” He clears his throat, asking.
“You mean if I ever miss the only woman, I had closest to a sister?” she raises a brow at his question, and finally injects him by his inner arm
“I know, stupid question. Just making small talk,” he grumbles, making Shuri laugh.
“I know you’re nervous about this little experiment. But you have nothing to worry about.” she guides him to the platform. “How do you feel?”
He gives his arm a little flex. “My arm’s a little tingly but it's nothing bad.” His eyes go a little wide at the appearance of green blanks, resembling a date format on his inner arm.
“That’s good.” Shuri’s own eyes were glued to his forearm. “Choose a date. Preferably one where you haven’t met yet and a day where something significant happens that will make it to the news.”
Bucky thinks hard of a good year. “We met the summer of 2026 and she was 23.” He starts adjusting the numbers on his forearm. “Let’s do two years before that.”
“Good call. You'll feel different in a bit, and for safety's sake, come back within an hour, please? So, I can make sure that your vitals are normal.”
“An hour. Got it.” He was bracing himself for any sort of impact, already coughing a little, when he heard Shuri mutter a curse. “What’s wrong?!” he slightly panicked.
Shuri beamed. “I'm not sure if clothes travel too.”
And then his vision went black.
----
Landing on concrete with a thud, Bucky groans from the dizziness. It’s been years since he’s felt this physically vulnerable thanks to the super-soldier serum. A gust of wind suddenly made him more alert.
“Oh fuck.” he mutters, standing up. No clothes, but luckily his metal arm is still attached to him. Looking at his real arm where the serum was injected, he was relieved that the date in green was still there. Thank god he was on some rooftop.
“Mr. Lee? There’s a naked man here in the rooftop. I’ve never seen him before.” A voice whispering in panic was coming from the shed where the door back to the inside of the building was. “No, he doesn’t seem drunk, but he’s butt naked and has a prosthetic arm. About late forties, I think.”
“I can hear you, you know.” He finally stands up and snatches the nearest blanket on the clothesline to cover himself.
“Oh my god. He heard me, Mr. Lee. All I have near here is a flat basketball and some takeout containers.” the voice was still whispering but now in a greater state of panic. But even then, it sounded feminine.
And all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
🦾 Marvel ⍟
🦾 Bucky
SERIES :
This Love (Complete) - A multi-chapter fic between the reader and Bucky in different settings of the MCU, starting with them meeting during Civil War, up to TFAWTS.
Parts:
-Prologue
-Gorgeous
-Tolerate It
-Epiphany
-Breathe
-Last Kiss
-Happiness
-Untouchable
-How You Get the Girl
Winter’s Time (on going) - After 60 years of a blissful marriage with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife breathed her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
Parts:
-Prologue
ONE-SHOTS/1-2 PARTS STORIES:
Boyfriend Material - some good ol mutual pinning, featuring Sam and his antics.
A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong ideas - sick reader being nursed by Bucky + teammates getting wrong ideas. Dare Coupons and Wrong Ideas (pt 2)
The Wrong Bait - Nat was supposed to be the one to get close to the target, but the initial plan goes down the drain when the target starts hitting on you instead.
Winter’s Time - Prologue
Author’s Note: Hi! It’s been almost a year since I posted a new fic. A lot has happened in my life and I honestly lost inspiration to write for months until recently. Lately I have been watching HBO’s The Time Traveler’s Wife, and despite the mix reviews about, I genuinely like it and am hooked. This fic will be inspired by it (not entirely a copycat, just that it involves time travel and meeting your soulmate), and will be multi-chaptered.
Blurb: After 60 years of a blissful marriage with the love of his life, time hit Bucky with a hard slap. His wife breathed her last breath peacefully on their shared bed, while he’s stuck still slowly aging. That is, until an old friend from Wakanda offers him an opportunity to visit her from different timelines of their relationship.
——–
It’s been six months since he had to wake up every morning to an empty bed. Six months since he could only hear your voice in his head and through recordings, and feel like your presence is real in his dreams. Willing himself to get up, he begrudgingly went to the bathroom for a shower.
James Buchanan Barnes did not have an easy life. Ever since he fell from that train, he hasn’t stopped fighting. Fighting under the command of others, fighting to be free, and fighting for what’s moral in his books. But perhaps the most worthwhile one he’s been in was when he was fighting for you.
He got a taste of the closest thing to normal the world could offer someone like him when he met you. And while those sixty years were when he was the happiest, what now? Where does a man in his 160s but looks to be in his 50s go from here?
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