27 7 / 2014
It’s tough because supposedly Natasha can’t have kids, but she lives with bunch of geniuses including a dude who can turn himself into a giant green monster, so they can fix anything. So shortly after this, Bucky comes home to Natasha who is standing the doorway of Bucky’s study that is basically a desk and a ton of boxes that he never bothered to unpack when he moved in with her, and she’s got this really distant look on her face, the kind that makes Bucky nervous because she’s either stuck in a really awful memory or she’s trying to make a tough decision, and neither are particularly good scenarios for her. Or for him.
But when he wraps his arms around her from behind, she just lets out this quiet sigh and says, “You’re gonna have to get your shit out of here. I need the space for a nursery.”
That’s how Bucky finds out he’s going to be a father. (He is so disgustingly happy that even Tony is fucking weirded out by all the smiling.) And it’s hilarious because he used to give Steve SUCH shit about being a hovering, protective weirdo when Peggy was pregnant, but Bucky is the absolute W O R S T. Natasha threatens to garrote him about twice a day. Which just makes him smile and touch her belly, which makes her grumble and whisper I’M GONNA TAKE THE OTHER HAND OFF TOO IF YOU DON’T STOP under her breath.
They have a girl, too. Steve is left breathless by watching Bucky with his little girl. Sarah is more protective over Georgina than she is over her brother Charlie when he’s born a few months later.
Bucky lets Sarah and Georgina climb all over him, draw on his arm, paint his fingers colours with their markers when they get older. Sarah and Georgina are inseparable the way Steve and Bucky were as kids. They’re so close that Georgina feels like one of Steve’s own, and by the time she’s old enough to stay over, she spends half her time sleeping in Sarah’s bed with her. Enough that by the time they get a little too big to sleep in one bed, Steve buys them bunk beds.
Oh, did I mention that Sarah’s middle name is Buchanan? BECAUSE IT IS.
I SHOULD JUST MAKE THIS SHIT MY BANG AT THIS POINT BECAUSE ALL I WANT IS THESE TWO ASSHATS WITH BABIES AND THOSE BABIES BEING BESTIES. Because you know these two dress up as Captain America and Bucky Barnes when they get older and it’s their FAVOURITE game, running around the neighbourhood with a fake replica of Steve’s shield and a little Bucky Barnes jacket that CLINT of all people sews for Georgina. Then Sarah gets really, really into Black Widow, and Natasha shows her how to do her first back handspring.
READ THIS EXTRA Bucky/Nat BABY!FIC. THIS IS the fluffiest most wonderful thing. sevensneakyfoxes knows how to MELT MY HEART and the reforge it in the fires of a burning star.
I have no idea how all this baby!fic happened. It DID and I am never going back.
[art, art will happen. I can feel it..]
27 7 / 2014
Anonymous said: Steve/Peggy and a happy motherfucking ending au, pretty please!
This fandom has officially ruined me. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. THIS IS 100% PURE GRADE FLUFF WITH FLUFF CHASER OF FLUFFY FLUFFNESS. IT IS SO SUGARY, YOU WILL NEED AN INSULIN SHOT AFTER CONSUMING. Anyway anon, I hope you’re still around because this prompt is from like a month and a half ago. I also added in Bucky because Bucky being gaga over Steve’s kid is apparently a bulletproof kink I never knew I had.
Timetraveller!Peggy? Serum!Peggy? Peggy refusing to age because she’s that fucking stubborn and amazing and Steve owed her that dance goddamn it, so she wasn’t going to give up finding him? WE’LL NEVER KNOW.
(AGAIN IT TURNED OUT SO LONG I AO3ed it. Sigh.)
Steve catches the little streak of green and white as it flies through the living room and into the kitchen.
"Whoa, whoa, slow down kiddo," Steve says with as stern a voice he can muster, which even to his own ears sounds about as hard as a marshmallow. Sarah’s a little over two and an absolute disaster on two legs; when she’s not conked out, she’s either moving at a mile a minute or sticking something in her mouth. Or lately, as she learns to multitask early, both.
"Dadda!" she says, quick like the sound of gunfire as she rolls around in Steve’s grasp. He feels himself melt instantly, his heart so tender for this little creature he still can’t believe he made. Lofting her up, he lets Sarah burrow her warm face into his neck, her tiny hands finding his bowtie and tangling her fingers into it.
Over on the couch, Bucky chuckles. “Backbone like a fucking jellyfish, Steve.”
"Hey," Peggy chides, swinging around the corner and cuffing Bucky good on the back of the head before turning her attention back to securing her earrings. "Language, Barnes. She’s turning into a little parrot and I’d prefer her first vocabulary not consist of contributions from your sailor mouth, thanks."
Turning to face him, Steve tries to pry Sarah’s fingers loose from his bowtie. It took him twenty minutes and help from Peggy to tie it, and they can’t be late. “Plus, you’re one to talk, Buck.”
Bucky laughs again, taking a swig from the bottle of beer in his hand. “Sure.”
Bucky’s absolutely crazy for Sarah, which relieves Steve to no end; in this life, where he has to worry about getting home every time he leaves, where he worries about Peggy, about what would happen if Sarah were to lose one or both of them (something he tries never to think about, the crushing weight of it enough to drown him), he knows that Bucky would take care of her, that he loves and cherishes her as much as Steve does.
And spoils her damn rotten. Half the toys in the chest in her room are from Bucky, and the bear she curls around every night is one Bucky gave Steve for her the night she was born.
"Help?" Peggy asks him when she starts struggling with her left pearl earring, a gift he had given her for their second wedding anniversary. He drops Sarah down on the floor, tapping her on the bum towards Bucky. He pulls Peggy’s dark, long curls aside and fusses with the earring until the back slides into place, securing it.
"You look beautiful," he tells her, cupping her cheeks and giving her a quick kiss. He drags his thumbs across her cheekbones tenderly.
Swatting at his hands, Peggy says, “Don’t,” but it’s too late. His finger picks up the concealer on her left cheek enough that he can see the nasty bruise that’s gotten worse since the morning. The ball of anger that he’d managed to push down a few hours ago makes its way back into the pit of his stomach.
He makes an angry noise before he can stop himself.
"Seriously, Steve, it’s perfectly fine," she tells him. The Hydra agent had gotten in a good swing before Peggy was able to put him down hard. Even then, Steve had followed up Peggy’s punch by putting him through a brick wall for good measure. He hadn’t gotten up from it and Steve hadn’t felt a modicum of guilt afterward.
It’s times like these that he wants to sit Peggy down, make her listen to reason, make her stop risking herself, but it’s also times like these that he reminds himself how much Peggy loves this, how he’d never ask her to give up something as important to her as her work, and how proud he is of her. (And how hypocritical it would be of him to ask her to do it when he still suits up every day, though now, he’d give it up for her if Peggy asked and really meant it, though he knows she never would.) It doesn’t make it any easier though, especially when she wears the consequences of her work on her face like this.
The idea that he can’t always protect her - protect their precious fledgling family even with all these gifts he’s been given - scares him in the most profound way.
"You okay?" Bucky asks from the couch where Sarah has climbed him like a mountain, curling into his lap and dragging his metal hand over her own to tap against with her little fingers as she chatters to him. Normally Bucky isn’t much into having it touched, but he’s different with Sarah; there’s literally nothing she could do or want that Bucky wouldn’t give in to. And Sarah… god, Sarah adores him.
"Yeah," Steve says as Peggy disappears back upstairs to reapply her make-up. A car horn sounds from outside - their ride is here.
"I got ‘er," Bucky says as Sarah squeals when Steve leans down and kisses the top of her head, her wormy little body burrowing deeper into Bucky until she’s plastered around his torso like a second skin.
Bucky runs his hand through Sarah’s hair. “Don’t even have to ask.”
Baby!fic is ruining me. This is the loveliest, fluffiest, most wonderful AU.
27 7 / 2014
So I wrote a snippet to go along with feanorinleatherpants's amazing art. I feel like we're becoming a dynamic creative duo, tbh. But it's hard not to want to write when you have such amazing *~inspiration~*.
When he dreams, lucidly, Steve is always there. But not the Steve he knows now, not Captain America. When Bucky dreams it’s always his Steve, 98 pounds soaking wet, and a back alley brawler if there ever was one.
God, but Bucky had loved that kid, loved every bit of him right down to his fight-bitten fists, and his crooked, always cold toes. That Steve, though, may as well be a figment of his Swiss-cheesed memories. There’s no one left to remember him for Bucky, no one left who knew him then, all skinned knees, popsicle stained lips, and sunburned shoulders.
There’s no one aside from him to remember the constellation of freckles that rose across Steve’s nose each summer, and he’s unreliable as it is. Oh sure, Steve was Steve then, but Bucky’s the only one left who loved him, who thought Steve was perfect as he was, all piss and vinegar, and big talk and big eyes.
Bucky thinks — he knows — with surety so painful it aches, that the Winter Soldier remembered Steve too. Sometimes fleetingly when he sparred with children at the Red Room compound, or when they left him out of cryo for too long and the cracks began to show. He always felt a pull back go New York, a pull back to Steve Rogers, back to a nameless boy with his jaw set and his fists raised and his heart on fire.
When Bucky dreams, Steve is always there. Little Stevie sitting astride his lap, naked as the day he was born, and in love. In love with him like Steve now could never be. In love with him despite the metal arm and the wrecked mind. Despite the list of crimes long enough to shape a century.
“Put your hand on my throat,” he tells that Steve. “Go on.”
“I’ll hurt you, Buck.”
“No you won’t, kid. Not like this.”
“Not like what?” Steve wants to know, so Bucky brings Steve’s hand to his throat for him.
“Bear down,” he grunts, and Steve does. Bucky groans and his eyes flutter shut. Steve’s grip was always true.
When he wakes up, sweaty and tangled, Steve is there, big as a barn and strong as an ox. He’s got one massive hand on Bucky’s flesh shoulder and Bucky has a hand around his wrist before he can think.
“You were crying out,” Steve says, a little nervously.
Bucky lefts go of his wrist and smiles, a trace of his old self sneaking in like fog over the 59th Street Bridge.
“You worry too much. A fella can dream, can’t he?”
“Course he can,” Steve says, and pats Bucky’s blanket-clad thigh chastely. “Course he can. Glad you’re having dreams, and not, you know.”
“Nightmares,” Bucky finishes. He’s glad too, especially because dreaming’s all he’s got.
FIC TO GO WITH MY ART!!
It’s so good!
[And I love drawing for reserve. I post a “huh maybe I should draw such and such fannish thing” and then reserve comes to my inbox and says ”you should totally draw that!” and so I do.]
27 7 / 2014
Original smutty shrinkyclinks drawings incoming,
I’m doing the thing where I worry over it and think oh I should fix___ and add ____. But I have been told that it is good enough to post. So yeah, going to post it.
27 7 / 2014
reserve said: you should be drawing smutty shrinkyclinks. it's so on-trend.
Yessssssss. And now I have a wealth of reference material to work with!
27 7 / 2014
Anonymous said: Thank you for your story i don't mind being called a friend
Thanks for saying, friend! Really. I’m glad you saw it. Come back anytime. Hugs.