Pairing - Cowboy!Bucky x Plus-sized Reader Modern AU
Summary - Your lonely night takes an unexpected turn when a handsome stranger asks you to dance.
Warnings - n/a, just adorable fluff, it’s sorta my thang
Word Count - 1805
Notes - Props to @angryschnauzer for creating the cowboy!Bucky moodboard for me, it was perfect for this fic! I was inspired by the songs Body Like a Backroad by Sam Hunt and Little Things by One Direction which I encourage you to listen to as you read (I originally wanted to work them into the fic but I couldn’t find an organic way to do it). I also got quite a lot of inspiration from Seb’s character Hal Carter from Picnic.
The night was winding down and you sighed as another slow song started playing. You loved to go dancing, especially line dancing, but this part of the night was always the worst. You watched as one by one each of your friends were asked to dance while you were passed over, yet again. You weren’t picky, not really, and would probably have said yes to just about anyone. But that was the problem, no one was asking.
Steve lives. He and Diana are at a gala after the war, and she discovers how other women react to a handsome war-hero in their midst. Needless to say, she is not pleased.
The worst part of the gala was the
dancing. Certainly not dancing with Steve—she could never dislike being in his
arms!—and not even dancing with other men. They were respectful to a man, no
doubt thanks to the formidable reputation she had gained, and many were quite
skilled on their feet. What Diana hated more than anything else was watching
nearly every other woman in the room throw herself at the dashing Captain
Trevor. It was a week after the war had ended, and England was celebrating in
style. Anybody who was anybody had been invited to Buckingham Palace for the
event, and as the heroes of the last battle, she, Steve, and the rest of the
crew were in attendance. As far as she was concerned, Steve should have been in
bed resting and not at a party, but she’d have had to tie him down to keep him
from coming. Even with all the cuts and bruises on his face—souvenirs from the
suicide mission that he’d managed, impossibly, to survive—he still looked
dashing in his uniform. If anything, his injuries gave him a bold roguish look
that she thought made him even more attractive. The only problem, she soon
realized, was that every other woman in the room shared her feelings about
Steve. Oh, they tried to be sly about it, but though Diana was new to the world
of men she still possessed a woman’s intuition, and she saw straight through
every little gesture. The shy smiles, the downcast eyes as they curtsied to
him. The attempts to get just too close as he took their hands and drew them
into dancing position. (She noted, with a rather savage satisfaction that
surprised her in its intensity, that Steve was a master at holding a firm
dancing frame and keeping the harpies at a respectable distance.) The way they
seemed to laugh at everything he said. And the worst, the way they lingered.
She saw how their hands would drift over his shoulder, down his arm as he
released them after a dance. She saw how their eyes would follow him as he
turned away after bowing. It made her sick. Thankfully, the steady stream of men
asking her for dances kept her largely occupied, but in the moments when she
found herself resting at the edge of the floor she couldn’t help but notice the
machinations of these women. She completely trusted, Steve, though, and let him
handle them on his own. —He can take care
of himself, she told herself firmly. —I
am not going to get involved.
It wasn’t long before she found
herself going back on her own words.
The woman was shockingly redheaded.
Watching her move around the floor was like watching a tongue of flame flitting
through the sea of bodies. She had been a late arrival, and quite quickly
navigated her way over to Steve. Diana happened to be taking a break after a
particularly spirited set with a young colonel, so she watched the whole scene
unfurl. Steve was just turning away from his previous partner as the
flame-headed woman stepped around one last person to stand in front of him.
Diana saw him stop and gawk, then sweep the woman clean off her feet in a bear
hug before setting her down and holding her by her shoulders at arm’s length.
They chatted animatedly in the brief lull in the music, seeming to talk over
each other in their excitement. After a brief interchange—during which his
hands never left her shoulders except to make the occasional gesture, Diana
noted sourly—he pulled the woman into another fierce hug. The music started up
again and Steve made the most ridiculously elaborate bow to the woman, who laughed
delightedly and dropped into an equally over-the-top curtsy. As Steve took her
hand, the woman closed well beyond the bounds of propriety. Diana, her mood
darkening by the second, noticed that Steve made no attempt to maneuver the
woman away from himself as he circled his other arm around her waist. Diana
felt a muscle jump in her jaw. The musical introduction finished, and all the
couples on the floor whisked away in an elegant waltz. Steve was an excellent
leader (of course), but this woman was also incredibly nimble on her feet and
although Diana hated to admit it, the two made a stunning pair. She felt a
reflexive stab of revulsion at “stunning pair” accurately describing Steve with
any woman besides herself. It seemed as though the dance would never end. Diana
saw more than one pair of heads bend together to whisper after Steve and his
partner had floated by, no doubt commenting on the beauty of their dance. She
thought she was going to be sick. At long last, the music came to a close and
the dancers all bowed to one another. Diana drew a deep breath, trying to
untangle the knot of fury in her belly. A small part of her brain tried to
remind her that she trusted Steve without reservation. Then, the red-haired
witch—Diana’s brain supplied this word before she could stop it—hooked her arm
comfortably through Steve’s and steered him off the dance floor toward a waiter
holding a tray of delicate champagne flutes. They each took a glass, exchanged
a couple of words, then clinked the glasses and downed their contents, tossing
their heads back in a synchronous motion that looked well-practiced. The two
now stood, holding empty glasses and grinning at each other, and Diana snapped.
She moved from her corner and stalked
her way towards the errant Captain Trevor, gathering her anger about her like
the folds of a cloak. The guests in her path, sensing the growing thunderstorm
within the young Amazon, shifted quickly out of her way as she moved through
the crowd. The last of the crowd parted to show her Steve and the woman, still
animatedly talking. As she opened her mouth to say gods only knew what, Steve,
whose eye had caught the sudden motion of the crowd, glanced over and broke off
“Diana!” he exclaimed, a brilliant
smile breaking over his face that put her wrath on its heels. “There’s someone
I want you to meet!” He closed the distance between them, bringing the strange
woman with him. “Lizzie, Diana. Diana, this is Elizabeth Cunningham. We grew up
together in the States, and she served as a communications operator in France.”
“So nice to meet you!” the
woman—Elizabeth—extended her hand and Diana shook it reflexively, still
off-balance. Elizabeth had a slender face thickly dusted with freckles and a rich,
musical voice, but her handshake was firm and her palm was calloused. This
woman was no delicate flower. She continued without waiting for a response from
Diana. “They rather frown upon women going into combat, or I’d have been a
pilot like this guy.” She directed a
playful jab at Steve’s shoulder. “So, I got into communications instead! Not
quite as exciting as chasing down enemy pilots in a Sopwith, but—” she lowered
her voice conspiratorially. “I did
get the chance to get my hands in the intelligence business, which is great fun.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Diana, whose experience with the intelligence
business had involved six men with guns in a London back alley, wasn’t sure she
agreed with Elizabeth’s assessment. “But you grew up on an island of warrior women! Steve was just telling me
about you. What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of training!”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t let
her fool you,” he said to Diana. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather meet in a
dark alley less, aside from maybe
you. She’s one of the best hand-to-hand fighters I know, and a crack shot with
“Well,” Elizabeth continued,
unfazed, “it’s nice to know there’s another woman in his life who can keep him
honest!” Diana bristled at being referred to as “another woman” in Steve’s
life. “Too many girls just fall all over themselves when they get around him.”
She put on a simpering false voice. “‘Would you care to dance, Captain Trevor?
My, you’re so strong, Captain Trevor! Is it true you shot down six enemy
fighters in one engagement, Captain Trevor? How brave!’” She laughed as though
it were the most preposterous thing in the world. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t got
an ego the size of Texas!”
“With people like you and Etta, and
now Diana, to keep me humble? Not a chance!” He smiled at Diana, and suddenly a
flood of warmth was competing with the thunderstorm in her head. At that
moment, a stuffy-looking old Frenchman in a dark suit approached and cleared
his throat to get Elizabeth’s attention.
“Might I ‘ave ze honor of zis
dance, mademoiselle?” he said, bowing stiffly.
“The honor is all mine, monsieur,”
Elizabeth replied, suddenly demure as she dropped into a curtsy. Handing her
empty glass to Steve, she took the Frenchman’s proffered arm, and as she glided
away she fluttered her fingers at Diana and called, “Pleasure!” over her
shoulder before she disappeared among the dancing couples.
Steve chuckled and shook his head
as he watched her go. “Comes at you like a whirlwind, that one.”
“She is certainly…something.”
Steve’s head turned sharply at the strained note in her voice, and he noticed
for the first time how rigidly she was standing, and the smoldering in her
“What is it?” He drew her towards
one of the balconies so they could talk in private.
Diana’s brain was whirling,
reassessing, trying to let go of the rage that had filled her, but she found
that it was like trying to get free of being tangled in a large blanket. Off
balance, she sputtered. “I just…you were…and she’s so…!”
“Lizzie?” Steve was incredulous.
“You were worried about Lizzie?” They
emerged into the cool night air. He began to chuckle, though Diana couldn’t see
what he found funny about the situation. “Diana, are you…” he paused, and it
sounded like he was fighting to keep laughter out of his voice. “Are you jealous?”
“She was very close to you,” she muttered rather sullenly, feeling her
face warm and refusing to look at him.
“Hey…” his voice was suddenly soft,
and the hand he placed under her chin to turn her face towards his was gentle.
Blue eyes met brown, and she was staggered by the incredible tenderness there.
“Lizzie is my best friend. We did everything together as kids. I haven’t seen
her since we both joined up and got assigned to different divisions two years
ago.” His hand was now warm against her cheek, and his eyes were starting to
crinkle with amusement. “She actually embarked on a matchmaking crusade a year
or so before we joined, and spent her time alternating between trying to set me
up on dates and lamenting that no woman would ever be foolish enough to
actually take me. She’s actually quite pleased that I’ve found someone who…how
did she put it?…will ‘keep me in line.’” The smile that had been tugging at
the corners stretched across his face, and Diana felt her anger slowly ebb
“I saw how all the women treated
you tonight,” she said slowly. “I watched them simper and fawn and try to get
too close to you, and I watched you deflect every single one of their advances.
Then she came along and…” Diana
trailed off, looking away. Her voice was small when she continued. “I was so
“Hey,” he repeated, and she met his
gaze again. “I love Lizzie dearly, and I hope you’ll come to love her as well,
but you have nothing to worry about on that front.” He hesitated. “I actually
tried to kiss her when I was sixteen.”
“Really?” Diana’s eyebrow arched.
He chuckled. “I’d started
developing a crush on her, and I thought something magical would happen if we
kissed. She stopped me the second she realized what I was trying. I believe her
exact words were, ‘Dude! Just…no.’” Diana stared. “I couldn’t look her in the
face for a solid week afterwards, and that was the end of that.” He grinned,
and Diana felt herself slowly smile back at him.
“Dude,” she repeated musingly. “Just…no.”
“Don’t go getting any ideas, now!” Steve
looked suddenly alarmed. She couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up. That
was the exact reaction she’d been hoping for.
“You have nothing to worry about.”
She reached up with both hands and pulled his face to hers.
When they separated some time
later, she spoke again. “I believe I over-reacted.”
He shrugged grandly. “You didn’t
react, technically. Lizzie didn’t give you much chance to get a word in
edgewise. She does that.”
Diana smiled. “I think I’m really
going to like this girl.”
“I certainly hope so.” He offered
his arm, and she took it. “Let’s go find out.” And they turned and went back
Things YoI Fans/Ficcers Should Know About Skating (#4)
LET’S TALK ABOUT THEIR COUPLE SKATE. Pairs Skating vs. Ice Dancing. Debunking the fic myths.
There are three categories in competitive skating:
1. Singles Freestyle (i.e. what Viktor and Yuuri do) 2. Pairs Skating (NOT Viktor and Yuuri’s duet) 3. Ice Dancing (i.e. Viktor and Yuuri’s duet)
Skaters only compete in ONE category. Sometimes younger skaters will start in Freestyle and compete in more than one (usually Singles Ice Dance, which only goes up to a certain level before you’re required to get a partner) but then they have to pick because they have to dedicate time and training to it.
Pair Skating vs. Ice Dancing
Pairs Skating involves couples (usually with a significant height difference). Pairs Skaters do jumps and spins side by side. These are graded on unison (among other criteria). They also perform throw jumps, and over the head lifts, and pair spins. Here’s an example of Pairs.
Ice Dancing is (in really simplistic terms) much more like ballroom dancing on ice. The skaters do not jump and are not allowed to do any lifts over the shoulders. Ice Dancers skate closely and in hold for much of their routine, not moving very far away from each other. Here’s Davis and White competing in Ice Dance.
Takeaways for my beloved fic writers:
1. Skaters don’t miraculously know the other two styles without previously studying them. We’re gonna assume Viktor had to study ice dance at some point. 2. Viktor and Yuuri can’t compete or skate as a pair couple just because of the physical demands. They could do side-by-side elements, but Viktor probably couldn’t throw Yuuri or lift him over his head. 3. THEIR DUET AT THE END OF THE SEASON IS AN ICE DANCE. (Which makes sense because the show’s choreographer was an Ice Dancer).
As always, you guys rock my socks with the quality and quantity of magnificent fics you produce. If you have any skating questions, my ask box is always open, and Toepick, my friendly former competitive skater/Ice Dancer now coach is on hand to answer any questions I can’t. Keep making history!
His words make you pause and your breath catches in your throat. Can you? Can you accept that his lips will only ever graze your cheek and his kisses won’t trace the curve of your spine and you won’t get to see if he tastes like that strawberry-flavoured chewing gum he always has in his pocket? Can you keep your mouth shut when she buys him a shirt that’s the colour of the setting sun but you know his favourite colour is the shade of blue the sea is when it’s calm? Can you live with the fact that he will call you when she breaks his heart but you will never have the power to mend it? Can you listen to him talking about his wildest dreams for the future and know that you only play a sideline to his crazy wishes? Can you watch him live a life you dreamed having with him with someone else by his side? Really, honestly, can you?
But love, even unrequited, is irrational and even as your head and heart are screaming no your lips are forming the words which may sentence you to a kind of torture worse than death.
“Of course we can.”
And I’ll just close my eyes whenever I see your gaze linger on someone else, 16/07/2015 #13
Yuri has never liked to dance. Not like this. Not the way Victor dips Katsudon and giggles so close up into his personal space. He doesn’t like the way everybody looks closely and studies the dancers’ moves (he’d feel so embarrassed and awkward all way through further on if his foot slipped the way Victor’s just did.- though Victor is just laughing and dances on).
The club throbbed with bass beats and lights, music oozing out of every crack into Quizzick Alley, mixing with the extraneous lyrics bursting out of the other clubs that lined the street.
An offshoot of Diagon Alley, Quizzick Alley was known as an entertainment district, usually of an adult nature, featuring such delights as Lady Lita’s Lingerie Emporium and Showroom (a respectable if slightly naughty shop by day, and a strip club by night), various dance halls, pubs, and arcades. Partiers searching for their next drink weaved drunkenly down Quizzick Alley, not because of the alcohol buzzing through their system, but because the street positively vibrated with energy.
The Crystal Cave was the gem of the alley. The club played the loudest music, served the best mixed drinks, and attracted the most popular people. Students at Hogwarts dreamed of their seventeenth birthday so they could enter the club—and then they dreamed of earning jobs after Hogwarts so they could pay the steep cover charge.
It would not have been unusual to see someone like Harry Potter spending Galleons at The Crystal Cave, but considering he had never stepped down Quizzick Alley before (the press would have reported on it if he had), his presence caused a stir. A low rumbling of excited murmurs followed him as he and his two best friends—War heroes! Legends! The prides of England!—forged a path through the dancing horde to the bar.
I think it's important to mention that Taylor is often really really close with her dancers and the rest of her crew. It was a low blow.
Remember the 4th of July pictures? She clearly got close to them. They were her main dancers. And Taylor is sensitive, so things like this go beyond the business aspect. She was hurt. But from what she said about the situation, this was a long time coming. Katy has always been shady towards her. This just solidified things.
John Donovan eased back into the soft leather of his booth seat. This club had become a habit. She was becoming his habit. Otherwise he’d stick to talking to her on the phone instead of coming here to visit.
Signaling for another whiskey, John ignored the prattle of his snitch, Frankie, and focused on the vision of beauty before him. Lately, he couldn’t get former Marcano thug Frankie to shut the fuck up about the money flowing in and out of Sal Marcanos ass. John would have been more then happy to leave the little rat unprotected, but Lincoln had vouched for him.
It was Frankie who originally brought him to Pearlas Nightclub after he had refused several invitations from Frankie’s girl, Misa, who had been rather insistent that he expand his network of intelligence. Pearlas was an establishment strictly for the people of the Hollow, no bullshit in or near its doors. Still, John thought the club wasn’t worth his time. That was until he saw her. He wouldn’t have paid the pouting beauty any mind if it weren’t for her long list of contacts and information on some of the Marcano asslickers that visited, it took him by surprise when she gave him enough information to fill an entire folder… And he wasn’t a man often surprised.
John licked the bitter taste of his half smoked cigarette from his lips and watched her dance on stage. They called her Minnie. He had laughed when he first heard her stage name only to discover that it was indeed her Christian name. The dancer had class. He had to give her that.
It was only recently that Freddy fazbear’s had gotten shut down due to bankruptcy after a new pizzeria opened up. Since he had no other job, he decided to get one at Circus Baby’s pizza world! The very pizzeria that got Fazbear’s out of the kids entertainment competition.
He looked up at the building, he only got the job yesterday and today was his first day. The tanned man stepped inside before going over to the elevator and getting inside it, once inside the doors closed behind him before it began moving down into the depths of the earth. Going to the party rooms below.
He heard a voice from the speakers over his head but he ignored it for the most part sine it was really annoying. He preferred a actual human voice compared to a robot telling him what to do.. about the job that is.
Once they hit the bottom, Jack pressed the red button to open the doors before he proceeded forward kneeling down and crawling into the vents to get to the central control room. Once there, that’s when he started listening to the robot.. so that he could do the job right.
John Gerald Longer de Saulles was born in Pennsylvania in 1878. He excelled in sports, particularly football. In 1901 he became captain of the varsity team from Yale University. The next year he went on to coach for the University of Virginia. In 1911 he traveled to Chile where he met and eventually married an heiress named Bianca Errázuriz. They settled in New York City and John became a partner in the family owned real estate business. He was also a player in politics, helping to organize the 1912 presidential election. The de Saulles’ had their first child in 1912, but soon after the marriage began to fall apart. Bianca filed for divorce in 1916. In court she had a close friend, famous dancer and actor Rudolph Valentino, give testimony that John and Valentinos dancing partner, Joan Sawyer, were having an affair. Whether or not Bianca and Rudolph were having an affair as well is not known but widely speculated upon.
On August 3rd 1917, a year after the divorce, Bianca drove to John’s place in New York to pick up their son. They had shared custody of the little one but John refused to cooperate with the court’s decision, he would not give his son up. Around 8pm she arrived and after arguing a bit she pulled a gun. He tried to disarm Bianca but no such luck, she shot him five times. He was taken to a hospital where he died and she waited on the porch of his house for the police to arrest her. The trial was a sensation and went on for months. The main argument for her was self defense. She had a witness that corroborated her side of the story, that he was holding the boy in the house even though it was Bianca’s time to take him. Even during the days of WW1 this story ran the headlines. She became a champion of the women’s suffragette movement who said she was “the victim of the chauvinism prevalent in society”. Bianca was acquitted of the murder charges on December 1st 1917. After the trial she left the United States.
By the late 1930’s she had been married, divorced, and became estranged from her son, who had moved back to the U.S. She was very depressed and suffering from bad health. on March 20 1940 she took her own life with an overdose of barbiturates.
Pictured above: the victim John de Saulles, his wife Bianca, a newspaper illustration from the time, Bianca and her son, a few blurry newspaper clippings, a shot of John’s house where the crime took place and lastly a shot of where this happened in America.