• what she says:i'm fine
  • what she means:why couldn't steve rogers lift mjolnir though? he is brave and noble and honest. he isn't afraid of dying if that protects other people. for god's sake, he literally jumped on a grenade because all he cares about is people's lives. he IS a fucking embodiment of worthiness. then why did mjolnir only moved slightly when cap tried to pick it up? why? what happened???
Time After Time (Part 4 of ?)

Summary: AU. When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,436

Warnings: fluff, crying, language, some mild feeling up, ANGST!, HEARTBREAK!,

A/N: Tags moved to the end. Please don’t hate me for what this chapter entails.

Age 17

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anonymous asked:

Resending to be safe: Steve (alone or with Darcy) is given a monumental Halloween task. Tell a scary story to bored and jaded teenagers when all power and cell service is down.

Okay, so I may have cheated a wee bit with this one - I’ve de-aged the teenagers down to about 12 years old instead (who are just as cynical as older teenagers in my experience) so I could set this ficlet firmly in the Interesting Times universe.  If you haven’t read those stories, all you need to know is that Steve faked his death fifteen years prior and is now living the quiet, domestic life in the suburbs with Darcy and their three kids.


‘You have faced down Nazis and aliens,’ Steve tells himself as he pulls back the curtain, squinting through the darkness and the driving rain that’s blowing almost sideways at this point.  A combined crack of thunder and lightning splits the night sky, revealing downed and bare branches scattered across the grass of the front yard.  ‘You can handle this mission.’

Steve lets the curtain fall closed, and turns back to the living room.  The power’s been down for hours but between the camping torch he’d dug out of the basement, a fire built up in the hearth, and all of Darcy’s decorative candles flickering merrily away, there’s a certain ambiance in the room and enough light to see by.  Unfortunately, all he can see is the disgruntled and bored faces of the five twelve year olds scattered around who he was supposed to be chaperoning during their trick-or-treating adventures who were now stuck inside a house without power or good cell reception because the storm from hell had decided to hit earlier than the forecasters had predicted.

“This sucks,” Dani says with a pointed glance at him, looking far more composed in her USS Enterprise crew dress costume when compared to the four other boys from the hockey team, two of whom have decided that Boston Bruins jerseys, jeans, and slasher movie masks work for costumes, while the other two have decided that they were going to be zombies in various states of decay.  

Joey’s been warned well in advance if he gets any of the fake blood spattered liberally on him on the leather couch the rest of his year will not be a pleasant one.  “Yeah, what happened to the scary story you were supposed to tell, hmm?” Joey says, looking up at his dad from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor.  His look is expectant, and a bit suspicious, like he doesn’t expect his dad to actually come through with a properly scary story to make up for the fact that they’re not trick or treating and pulling in major candy bank.

Steve nods a couple of times.  ‘Aliens,’ he reminds himself once more.  ‘Twelve year olds are not scarier than aliens.’  Besides, the story he’s thinking of telling is technically true, even if it was highly classified back during the way.  Making the truth a little more dramatic is always easier than making up something from the ground up.

“All right,” Steve says, settling himself on the floor near to the kids.  “There were some legends, back in World War Two,” he begins, staring around the small group of pre-teens who are still looking like they’d rather be anywhere else right then, “legends about how the Allies supposedly had vampires fighting on their side for them.  Even Dracula himself, although it was debatable how trustworthy he was…”


On Halloween the next year – by which point Joey has already learned the full truth about who his parents really are and how they ended up where they did, and wasn’t that an interesting conversation – Joey turns to Steve, mouth pursed with suspicion as he crosses his arms over his chest.  “That story about vampires in World War Two that you told us last year – that wasn’t real, right?” he asks.

Steve just shrugs, keeping his face innocent as he reaches for the bowl full of candy that’s destined for any trick-or-treaters and helps himself to a mini-Snickers bar.