they are such dumdums

im not here to make friends, which is good because historically my friends are all idiots

rowana-renee-deactivated  asked:

How many cookies would it take to bribe you into telling me a story, Bucky? They're homemade, and any story will do.

all of them. i will tell you the story while i wait for all of the cookies.

once upon a time, a little shit decided to go fight nazis. 

usually when i start a story that way, its a steve story. but this time its a me story.

i too fought nazis, my friend, and it was not fun at all.  it turns out nazis dont like being fought, and will fight back. this caused us a great deal of stress and trenchfoot. 

as you may or may not know, my nazi fighting buddies were called the howling commandoes. we had a reputation as being ‘howling mad’ which most people assumed is where our name came from. 

it is not.

so shortly after we’d signed up as steves unit, we got sent out on a sort of breaking-in mission. it was supposed to be a pretty routine just-behind-enemy-lines gig, mostly to see how we’d do as a team. at that point, we were the first ‘integrated’ squad under american command, so they wanted to be sure we were up to snuff. basically they sent us a few miles into a relatively lightly-fortified occupied area to blow up a few supply trucks. it went pretty smoothly. we were still getting to know each other, a bit. we’d met in the hydra camp in austria and bonded pretty well there but it wasnt like we were sitting around doing icebreaker questions. so on that first mission we spent a lot of time chatting, getting a better feel for each other as people. like summer camp, but with more potential for death, and shooting of nazis, explosions, and overgrown science experiments in spangly pants. 

so maybe not like summer camp at all.  i wouldnt know, i never went to summer camp. 

anyways, we blew up the supply trucks and we were headed back towards base when we came across a nice little stream. most of us were pretty dirty, so we agreed to take a few minutes, strip down and wash up. the area we were in was supposed to be secure; it was a slightly disputed border area, but it had been safely in allied hands for months. probably it wasn’t the smartest call, but sometimes you get dirt places you never wanted dirt and are willing to literally risk death to get rid of that dirt. 

we left our gear in a little stand of trees on the far side of the stream and washed up. 

at this point, dumdum dougan was establishing his reputation as the Toughest Guy Ever, which was a rough gig when one of your squadmates is captain america, who literally walks off bullet wounds like a moron. nevertheless, dumdum had the mustache and was determined to be the manliest man around, so when the rest of us got in, clean, and back out as fast as we could manage, because the water was freezing, dumdum decided to prove how macho he was by pretending he wasnt cold at all, and the rest of us were wimps. 

naturally, the rest of us thought he was ridiculous. we were all pretty much dressed and good to go, and dumdum was still sitting in an ice-cold stream in april, bragging about how tough he was. i, being a little shit, covertly suggested we play a little prank. 

so the rest of us finished gearing up, then grabbed his things and started running. his pack, his gun, his boots…all his clothes except his hat, which was hanging off the handle of a knife he’d stuck in the tree. we knew he’d stop to get the hat, and that gave us a head start.

as soon as we started running, dumdum came out of the stream after us, and as expected, stopped to get his hat and knife. we had a decent head start, and he was yelling at the top of his lungs after us. we were all laughing our heads off, because he looked like a complete idiot, running after us brandishing a knife, in nothing but a bowler hat. 

unbeknownst to us, a nazi squad had been sneaking through the woods ahead of us, and were setting up an ambush on one of our transport trucks. they were all tucked away in the underbrush, waiting for the transport to get close enough, and had just popped out of the shrubbery and fired their first couple shots.

which was approximately when a ragtag-looking, still-wet group of cackling maniacs led by the bastard child of paul bunyan and lady liberty burst out of the treeline, being chased by an angry naked man in a bowler hat with a knife. 

there was a very long moment when everyone stopped shooting at everyone else and stared at us. 

and then everyone went back to shooting at everyone else.  but the ambush was angled to ensnare the transport coming up the road. we came from behind them, and they had pretty much no cover from our angle. as soon as we realized we’d run into a combat zone, we dropped the gear and started shooting. steve used the dinner platter of justice and cleared out about four nazis at once, and dumdum got the worlds unluckiest nazi with his knife. poor guy. there’s not a whole lot worse than your last sight on earth being a naked dumdum dougan.

 we’d unintentionally provided a perfect distraction, and the transport had time to regroup and return fire. between us, the ambush was taken care of in a few minutes. 

but the thing was, we’d broken protocol by stopping to wash up, and as a shiny new unit still on probation, the last thing we wanted was to tell anyone what had actually happened. 

so instead we told them that we’d known about the ambush and had decided to provide a distraction, and were just crazy enough that we thought the best way to do that was run howling straight into it. dumdum’s nudity was explained as a personal preference: the man just likes fighting nazis naked, sir, and you cant say it wasnt effective??

naturally, the story went everywhere and got bigger each time it was told. probably we should have gotten in tons of trouble but the story was such a morale booster that they let it slide. 

and thats why we were called the howling commandoes. 

Jack suddenly was too close to his face again, that shit-eating grin plastered across his mouth, -“It’s called flirting, dumdum. Your head’s too thick for my subtle hints, so I have to be direct.”

Rhys sank his head into the chair, trying to distance himself as far away from Jack as was possible. He kept staring into his eyes, and Rhys had to swallow down. His throat was suddenly way too dry.

There was no way he wasn’t kidding, right? So why the hell did Rhys’s face burn like it was on fucking fire!?

so i was hoping that drawing a scene from my own fic would actually make me wanna finish it…. i think it’s working?

Chapter 4 of Corruption (Read on AO3)

general mood: pred shaming. Pred eats somebody/ies, only to have someone close to them catch them basking in the afterglow of their decadent meal, the lively struggles in their belly giving away the act. The person starts reprimanding the pred, but in a tongue-in-cheek sorta way. Saying what they did was totally abhorrent, calling them a pig, “You’re not even sorry, are you? Of course not, all you cared about was stuffing your gullet with PEOPLE.” And the pred just absolutely gets off on being called out for being an incorrigible glutton.

2

not what you had in mind @ellobo17 but here, dumb dense ikemen ocean duo & flustered kaichous (っ´ω`)ノ

Hit me baby (one more time)

“Millicent, what on earth are you doing?” Draco shot his friend a confused look from across the eighth year common room, where his peaceful solitary study session had been interrupted by a weird flapping noise.

“Flapping around with the sleeves of my girlfriend’s oversized sweater.” Millicent replied as she flapped around with the sleeves of her girlfriend’s oversized sweater. It wasn’t even a Slytherin sweater, but one of the Chinese national quidditch league. Cho Chang wasn’t even Chinese, but Korean. Draco didn’t really get the relationship she and Milly had.

“And why are you doing that?” Draco asked with a tired sigh. He was more than done with dissecting the love song they had to explain for muggle studies. He still couldn’t figure out what hit me baby one more time was supposed to mean. Was the singer pro domestic violence?

Stupid Britney Spears.


“Because it’s fun. You know that’s a thing people have, right Draco? Fun? A good mood? Happiness?” Millicent stopped flapping and walked over to him. Ignoring her sarcasm Draco quickly shielded his essay from sight. Millicent would probably know what Miss Spears meant since she had been raised by her muggle father, and he was not looking forward to getting laughed at by her.

Why does Chang even own sweaters that big? Draco wondered as Milly sat next to him. Cho was a petite girl and she’d be able to fit into this giant red tent at least seven times.

“Because she knows I like oversized sweaters, and she knows I like to wear stuff that smells like her.” Milly replied. Dammit, he’d been thinking out loud again.

Draco was so busy scolding himself for his slip up that he forgot to reply. It wasn’t a rare thing to happen these days. After the war getting distracted by all sorts of things was basically the only thing he did. He couldn’t even stare at Harry for longer than half a minute before something else caught his eye. It was maddening.

“Here, you try it.” Shaken out of his thoughts Draco nearly strained his neck as he looked at Milly again. She was wearing a plain grey shirt now, and the red sweater lay in her outstretched hands. Draco frowned.

“Why would I try it? I don’t want to smell like your girlfriend.”

“Not what I meant dumdum.” Milly chuckled, but there was a sad glint in her eyes. “I mean try wearing this oversized sweater and flap the sleeves.”

“I see no reason as to why that would be pleasing in any way.” Draco shot back, still looking puzzled. He pulled his muggle studies homework towards himself again and tried to regain focus, even though he knew it was a lot cause. He couldn’t concentrate for longer than half an hour a day it seemed.

Stupid PTSD.

“You say that again once you’ve tried it. Come on, if you do it I will help you with your muggle studies, and I promise I won’t laugh.” Millicent looked at him with puppy eyes, and Draco sighed. He wasn’t going to get rid of her until he obeyed, and since he was constantly sleep deprived he had no energy left whatsoever to protest.

“Fine.”

Milly grinned and then actually squealed, before pulling Draco’s reading glasses off his face and shoving the sweater on. It was still warm from when she’d worn it, which left Draco feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Things improved when the smell of mint tea and cheap shampoo filled his nostrils. This left him confused for a moment, until he recalled smelling this exact same thing every time he hugged Milly, and hugging for some stupid reason (which did not fit his aesthetic or his family name at all) was the only thing that could calm him down when his mind was racing again.

“Feels nice ey?” Milly asked with a cheeky grin as she tried to put his glasses back and stabbed him in the ear with one of the legs. He rolled his eyes and grumbled as a pleasant warmth spread through his gut. The knowledge that not all students in the school wanted to see him dead was comforting. 

Not that a Malfoy needed comforting or anything silly like that. Don’t be daft.

“You know there’s no shame in asking for help right? Or a hug?” And without waiting for Draco’s approval Milly pulled him into a firm hug. Draco sputtered but didn’t push her away. He was too tired.

And it felt kind of nice.

“Now flap with your arms.” Milly ordered as she released him.

“I’m not going to flap my arms Mills.”

Milly gave him a sharp look and whispered in a threatening voice, “if you do not flap your arms I will tell the Weasleys you were jealous of their knitted sweaters.”

Draco blushed bright red and gave her a look that was a combination of fear, exhaustion and irritation.

“Fine.” He sighed then. He heaved up his arms and flapped the ridiculously long sleeves in front of Milly’s face, knocking off her glasses. He chuckled as they landed on the floor, then he continued to harass Milly’s face with the sleeves. He probably looked ridiculous but now that he had started he found he didn’t care much. He hated being wrong but this was indeed quite fun to do.

Stupid Millicent.

“Are you happy now?” Draco grumbled a little out of breath after he’d exhausted his arm muscles.

“Wrong question Draco.” MIlly gave him a sharp look again, but it was less impressive now that her hair was disheveled and her glasses were gone. “What you should ask is are you happy?”

“No, I looked like an idiot.” He tugged at the gigantic red sweater. “Will you help me with my muggle studies now?”

Milly shook her head and sighed, which earned her a shove from Draco, but then she retrieved her glasses and scanned his work. She chuckled. “Well the answer to your question is not domestic violence. It’s sex.”

“Sex? Why would you hit people during sex?” Draco flapped out, turning beetroot as soon as he reasised half the common room was listening to them.

“I haven’t the slightest, I’m more of a Bambi lesbian myself. Maybe you could ask Pansy?”

“Oi! I do not engage in BDSM thank you very much.” Pansy yelled at them. Just as the rest of the common room she had overheard Milly.

“But I bet Potter has you covered.” The asian girl added with a smirk.

“Covered in what?” A dissolved looking Harry walking into the room right that moment.

“Latex and leather.” Pansy answered. Draco wanted to die.

“I prefer the sweater Malfoy is wearing to be honest. Latex and leather sounds rather uncomfortable. Why would I cover Malfoy with it anyway?”

“For BDSM sex of course.” Milly replied. Harry tripped over his own feet and fell hard against the table Draco had been using to make him homework.

“Excuse me?” Harry sputtered with a bright red face as he rubbed his painful upper arm. He looked rather stupid, lying there almost face first on the floor.

“Hey! What did you guys do to Harry?” Ron shouted offended as he entered the common room, soon followed by Hermione.

“We revealed the secret BDSM sex he and Draco are having.” Pansy said matter-of-factly. Draco let his head fall onto the hard wooden table with a loud thud. He hated his friends sometimes.

“Oh that,” Hermione shrugged, “well I’m glad you found someone who’s willing to dominate you, and I for one hope he shares all of your many kinks Harry.”

Ron looked like he might pass out as he stared open mouthed at his girlfriend. “He’s getting whipped by Malfoy?”

“Well that escalated quickly.” Millicent mutterd in Draco’s ear. Draco groaned and threw a quill at her head. She caught it and sat back to enjoy the gigantic mess she’d made, openly enjoying the commotion.

Draco, however, was very much not enjoying the commotion. Sex was always a bit of a taboo subject for purebloods and the little bits and pieces he had puzzled together so far did not feature any of the things his fellow students were talking about. Left alone that he did such things to Harry Potter on a regular basis.

As soon as Ron actually fainted and people weren’t looking at him anymore he fled up the stairs. The last thing he heard before he slammed the door shut was “DEAN THOMAS I AM NEVER GOING TO WEAR A FUCKING LATEX LEOTARD! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER.”

All in all Draco was happy to collapse on his bed and pull the curtains shut around it, cancelling out the last bit of the noise. He crawled under the duvet and hugged the oversized sweater he was still wearing.

He couldn’t really wrap his head around the fact that only a year ago he’d been certain he wouldn’t even survive the war, and now he was safe and warm and cozy, wrapped up in a huge sweater from Cho Chang, out of all people. It was ridiculous.

But besides that it was comfortable too, and within five minutes he was sound asleep. He never slept longer than an hour though, because that was the moment the nightmares kicked in.

“Uhm, Malfoy?” Draco stirred in his sleep. The red eyes of Voldemort flickered with green for a moment, but soon they went back to red again. He did not wake up. “Malfoy are you okay? Are you having a nightmare?”

It was the genuine concern in Harry’s voice that penetrated through the fog of the dream and woke Draco up. He groaned and curled up further, shaking from the memory of him. No matter how many times he saw it the face still terrified him. He was unsurprised but not un-ashamed to find his cheeks were wet from tears.

Harry set something down on his nightstand and sat down on the edge of his bed. The way the mattress dipped in reminded Draco so much of his mother bringing him a goodnight kiss that he was crying again before he even realised it.

He turned around, trying to bury his face in his pillows, but Harry stubborn fucking prick Potter wouldn’t leave him alone. A muscled arm, strongly contrasting with Draco’s own weak limbs, curled itself around him and soon after he felt Harry’s chest press against his back. It appeared the slayer of the dark lord was spooning him.

“Luna taught me how to spot the difference between crying alone and crying lonely.” Harry said, his tone of voice more than a little bit uncomfortable and awkward.

“And she showed me how to chase away the fear of a nightmare.” He added rather doubtfully, and he moved away from him so one of his hands got the space it needed to make hard but relaxing stroking movements across Draco’s back.

Draco was so overwhelmed by the nightmare, what had happened in the common room and what Harry was doing now that al he could do was tell himself to breathe. Just breathe.

After a minute or two Harry sat up again, and to his own surprise Draco found himself more relaxed than he’d felt in months, probably years.

“I have no idea why you just did that,” Draco murmured, still a bit out of it, “but I enjoyed it.”

“Glad to hear that.” Harry replied. Draco tried to casually dry his cheeks before emerging from his duvet again. He self consciously put a hand through his hair, certain it would look a right mess.

“You, eh, left your homework in the common room.” Harry indicated at the boks on Draco’s night stand and flushed a bit. “I thought I’d give it back to you before they start reading it out loud downstairs.”

“Thank you Po-.”

“Harry.” Harry cut in. “You can call me Harry, if you want to that is.”

Draco, surprised that Harry would think he would not want to call him Harry, sat up a bit straighter and tried to convey his thanks again. “Well then, thank you, Harry. And do call me Draco, if you want to that is.”

“I do.” Harry blurted, turning even more red. “I mean I do, eh, want to call you Draco.” He finished clumsily and Draco found himself smiling. A rare occasion these days.

“Where did you get that sweater from?” Harry asked, seemingly to prevent an awkward silence.

“Cho Chang actually.” And Draco couldn’t help but laugh as Harry’s face flushed again. The messy haired man looked horribly awkward, guilty, puzzled and shocked at the same time, and it frankly looked quite hilarious.

“Relax Harry. I’m not dating your ex. Millicent would kill me if I stole her girlfriend.” He chuckled as relief flooded Harry’s face, feeling suddenly giddy with the thought that Harry Potter might be interested in him.

“Wait what?” All of the sudden Harry looked puzzled again. “Since when are Cho and Bulstrode dating?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to be puzzled again. “Since the start of the school year.” He said slowly, eying Harry with suspicion. The guy wasn’t fucking with him now was he?

“They are the leaders of the GSA, and they snuggle together like, all the time.” Draco continued. Harry frowned, seemingly digging through his memory to recall any of Draco’s claims. “Harry are you sure you have the right prescription for your glasses? Those two could not have been more obvious if they’d tattooed we are lesbian lovers on their forehead.”

Harry glared at him and pulled his knees up. “It’s not my fault I suck at seeing that kind of thing okay? I wasn’t raised with it you know. With love.”

And suddenly Harry looked very small, sitting there on the edge of Draco’s bed, staring ahead without seeing anything. Draco swallowed hard, not sure what to do now, until he remembered what he was wearing.

“Harry?”

“What?” Harry snapped as he changed from hurt boy into an angry adult man.

“Put this on and flap with the sleeves.” Draco held out Cho’s sweater. “It helps, I promise.”

Harry eyed the sweater. He didn’t seem to have much faith in Draco’s method and unlike Millicent Draco had no threats he could use against his victim. Though victim was the wrong word of course.

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry muttered and he turned back to staring at the wall.

“And you won’t be able to hit me in the face with permission if you do not put on this sweater and flap the sleeves in my face.” Draco shot back. He was ready to sell some of his dignity and self perseverance if it meant Harry would look happy again. Though if he was being honest he didn’t have much dignity left.

Harry eyed him from the side, then silently snatched the sweater from Draco’s outstretched arm and pulled it over his head. It looked stupid on him, way too big, the colour didn’t fit and Harry had more of an middle eastern look to him than a chinese one. Still, Draco had so much trouble tearing his gaze away from Harry that he did not even see the man coming when he hit him in the face with his sleeve.

Once it did hit him though he scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the headboard of his bed as a reflex. Harry didn’t seem bothered by this and just lurched forward until he was half-sitting half-lying on top of Draco as he hit him in the face with Cho’s sweater.

“I said flap not hit!” Draco yelled as Harry beated down on his face, but he was laughing as he said it, because Harry was laughing too now.

“I thought you were supposed to be a BDSM fan?” Harry shot back with a wicked grin.

“I don’t even know what that means Potter!” Draco exclaimed just before Harry tired out and collapsed on top of him. “I thought the song was about domestic violence.”

“Cozy mind you have there.” Harry tapped the side of Draco’s head and dragged himself up a bit until his face was hanging above Draco’s.

“Just as cozy as yours, possibly even cozier.” Draco whispered, very aware of the fact that his breath was caressing Harry’s face, and that he had no idea if it smelled good yes or no.

“Show off.” Harry shot back.

Despite his nerves Draco looked smug as he shot back, “It’s not showing off if it’s true.”

“I think it still is, but I’d have to ask Hermione to be sure.” Harry pulled a thinking face, which Draco thought was the single most adorable thing in the world. Before he knew what he was doing he’d drifted off from the conversation to Harry’s eyes, his hair, the patterns on the ceiling, how muggles knitted wool for their sweaters…

He startled when Harry talked again and mentally scolded himself for losing focus. He’d lived in one house with the dark lord, he should be able to handle some stupid concentration issues. And there he was drifting again.

“Did you hear what I said?” Harry inquired with an amused look on his face. At least he didn’t get angry like some of the professors did. Or maybe the anger came later. “I said it is pretty disturbing that two eighteen year old boys are bragging about their shitty mental state when they should be kissing.”

“Kissing?” Draco muttered perplexed.

“Yes Draco, kissing. I hope you do know what that means.” Draco briefly wondered how this idiot of a man had gotten the balls to be so up front about things, but before he could get distracted again he bend forward and planted his lips firmly on Harry’s. And for the first time since the war, he didn’t think anything could distract him from the magnificent experience that is kissing Harry Potter.

It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was rather clumsy, with several collisions of teeth and near-bitings of tongues, but it was right. It felt right. And as Harry reached out and tangled his fingers in Draco’s hair, messing it up even more, the both of them were sure they would be alright.

And they would be.

Together.


This turned out to be wayyyyyyyy longer than it was supposed to be and I procrastinated a buttload of homework typing this out so if you could let me know what you thnk that would be extra appreciated this time! (Bc then I know if I wasted my homework time writing something nice or stupid)

anonymous asked:

So Peggy starts the best bar fights? Elaborate, please.

oh man, those were the good old days. 

the howlies got in a lot of bar fights. you might think that the last thing a bunch of soldiers would want to do with their free time is fight people, but actually bar fights were a great stress relief. nobody really got seriously injured, and we tried to keep property damage to a minimum.  (and we also almost never started bar fights, for the record. most of the time it was guys from another unit who wanted to prove how badass they were by taking on the infamous howling commandos.) so bar fights themselves weren’t that unusual.

but peggy’s bar fights…oh, they were glorious. 

see, peggy never got in a fight for no reason; she was smarter than that. but when she did fight, it was truly beautiful. ive never seen a better right cross, before or since.

so one time we were on leave, sipping drinks in this english pub. the howlies were at the back table, enjoying a couple pitchers, while peggy was up at the bar, chatting with the barmaid. many of the bars and pubs back then had female bartenders–filling the gaps with the men off at war. and generally barmaids (which was what a female bartender was called back then) were the sort of girl pegs got along with–sensible, dependable, and not willing to take shit from any man. so she often enjoyed commiserating with the barmaids while we drank. she used to say she had to be free of us ‘charming gentlemen’ before she wound up blowing things up as erratically as we did. which was hurtful. our explosions were very intentional.
mostly.

so peggy got to chat about the best ways to hurl drunken idiots out doors and we got to ply steve with alcohol to see how much booze it would take to make him drunk. (tragically, we never found out.)

on this particular occasion, peggy was sitting at the bar when this mountain of a man came in. and i mean huge. thor-sized. like the hulk’s pinker younger brother. and with him came a dozen or so of his closest friends, all locals. (they may also have been poorly disguised orcs. im not sure, but i wouldn’t discount it as a possibility after seeing all the nonsense ive seen) the group of them made their way up to the bar, wedged their way in, and started harassing the barmaid. 

now, i don’t know what they said. peggy refused to repeat it. all i know is that one of the larger idiots said something stupid, laughed, and reached out to grope the barmaid. his hand made it about six inches from her chest when peggy’s fist broke his nose. he hit the floor like a tree falling, and the bar went quiet for a split second before one exceptionally suicidal idiot lunged at peggy.

everything went crazy. there were a good few dozen of us 107th guys in the bar, and all of us knew and adored pegs, so when the mountain-men went after her, every fine man of the 107th went after them. but it turned out that the locals defended their own, and we were pretty evenly matched for numbers. within seconds, everyone was throwing punches. bottles were thrown. dernier used a tablecloth to blind a man and threw him out a window. dumdum used one guy’s fists to hit another guy. i hurled bottlecaps at people’s eyeballs, because it’s fun.(im a sniper. we like distance) steve tried to wade through the chaos to get to peggy, but people kept punching him and then clutching their hands in agony, so he got kind of bogged down. 

at the bar, peggy was demonstrating exactly why she was the 107th’s darling–because she could put a grown man twice her size on the ground in two seconds flat. she knocked out six men; seven more promptly fell in love with her. 

as the chaos began to wind down, most of the locals had either been beaten down or fled, and only the mini-hulk and a couple others were left, brawling like berserkers. we were just about ready to turn steve loose on them when the barmaid handed peggy a stool. peggy took it, walked up behind where most of us howlies were still duking it out, and broke the stool over the big guy’s head. 

he went down hard. the rest of them surrendered out of terror. 

(and, possibly, they had also fallen prey to abruptly-in-love-with-peggy-carter syndrome. but really, who wasn’t?)

alright, so, after i’m done with this kara/diana fic and sweet, salty, spicy, sweet part four, who wants me to do an au where kara is a small-time youtuber who livestreams occasionally to help pay for her college tuition and lena is a young heiress with a not-so-tiny fortune to her name and nothing to spend it on so she gradually donates thousands of dollars to this cute youtuber she likes to watch, because… come on, a couple thousand dollars is no big deal, right??

idk, who am i kidding? the answer is no one, but i’ll probably write it anyway.

Leave This Town Pt 9 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Nat, Clint, OC Talia. DumDum Dugan and Peter Parker mentioned. 

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. When something unexpected brings you home, you’re brought back to the place where everything changed. Timing is everything and now there just might be a second chance with the man you left behind.

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff!!!!

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Hoo, boy, you guys. I love this part. So much fluff and answers and more questions and so many words!! I just can’t stop myself at this point. There will be more parts. Hope you don’t mind. ;) Any feedback is appreciated! I adore you all!! <3

<<<Part 8    Part 9   Part 10>>> 

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Originally posted by hotdudesforyou

Previously: 

“Y/N. Just stay. Please? It’s ridiculous for you to go out again in the storm when you’re more than welcome here. I’ll sleep on the couch, I’ve done it dozens of times on accident and I won’t hear another word about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand with a stern expression, so you relented. “Okay. I’ll stay. Thank you, Bucky.”

His face lit up when you agreed, causing that sputtering spark inside you to spread warmth from the inside out.  Tearing your gaze from his, you picked up the remote and pressed play.

_________________

Hearing the actors speak your words and seeing them act out a story that once only lived in your head was still a new and bizarre sensation for you. Beginning with you sitting in a room by yourself, staring at a blinking cursor for hours on end all the way through casting, production and editing until finally it all came to life, it was a miracle. It was also strange and wonderful to see someone witness your work for the first time. You couldn’t stop yourself from observing out of the corner of your eye as Bucky watched the action on the ancient television screen before you.

Keep reading

dearest international skam fans, there are a few killer norwegian songs you need to hear

til dere norske, add til no sanger hvis du synes at jeg glemte noen! 

Leave This Town- Epilogue (End)(Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Tony Stark, Pepper, DumDum Dugan, Peter Parker, others mentioned.

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. Your second chance with Bucky is not without its challenges, but you’re both determined to make it work. But eventually, a decision must be made in order for you to fully be together. How can you choose? Or will it be made for you? 

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst, mostly fluff. Mention of pregnancy. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: This is it, you guys! The end of this series. I’m a little sad to say goodbye to these characters. They’ve been my constant companion for the past 3 months and on my mind for 6 months before that. I’m ready to take a little break and then move on to something new, though. I really hope you like this epilogue. Please let me know your thoughts! I always love to hear from you! I love you all!!

<<<Part 12   Epilogue (End)

Leave This Town Masterlist

Full Masterlist

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Originally posted by nerdyfandomimagines

Two Years Later

Cruising down the small town’s Main Street, you turned the steering wheel sharply and pulled into the auto shop’s dusty lot before parking the ’67 Chevy Impala out front. You jumped out of the driver’s seat and headed straight for the main office, throwing the door open roughly before entering.

“Hey, DumDum. Where is he?” you asked, never slowing a step.

“Afternoon, Y/N,” the mustachioed man replied, answering your question by hooking his thumb toward the garage.

Stepping into the cavernous garage, you searched for the long-haired brunet but grew impatient. “James Buchanan Barnes!” you shouted into the echoing space, then seeing a head pop up in between cars.

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