Take What You Get And Live With It. W/ #duckandcover??????

“Take what you get and live with it.” w/ #duckandcover??????

      —— some more medic!reader x sniper!bucky ft. growing comfort with one another??? i.e. medic’s backstory & bucky loving his sisters. also… touching. this ship is gettin’ steamy! 

       aesthetics for this chapter are thanks to @nalle & their beautiful b.o.b. edits! i’ve been over the moon reliving this beautiful mini-series tbh. v big inspo!

The moon is bright overhead, over-saturated with the haunts of night-time in occupied France. 

In the distance, Luftwaffe beat their engines through the cloudless sky, kings of their domain. Every hour or so, there’s a skirmish. The RAF and American boys spread their wings and flit around in the sky like shooting stars, sometimes downing the enemy, sometimes loosing a brother. 

It’s cold – you can see your breath from your spot in the tattered and burnt recliner you’d settled into for the night. The Howling Commandos are scattered around you in the third story of the bombed out villa; overhead, there’s no ceiling. 

Just open sky and war-birds.

You’re in the thick of it – knee deep in Rouan, France flanked by German encampments in the near deserted town. Months into Operation Cobra, the need for a break-through was dire; and so, the mission was recon based.

Three days in, with little sleep and a lot of running, you were all losing steam.

You curl inward, eyes heavy with sleep and exhaustion and everything in-between; the movement catches Bucky’s attention.

Smoke swirls around his head like a halo.

“Can’t sleep?”

He’s on guard, awake and nursing a cigarette and cold instant coffee from a dented canteen Dugan had muscled him during debrief. Bucky is pressed against the tacky wallpapered half-walls, legs stretched outwards and thinking about how his Ma would have liked a house like this. It had good bones. Even after surviving the initial round of bombing, it stood on good legs – and though the floors were buckled with burns and the roof was plunged into nothingness overhead, it had charm. 

You swallow, voice soft. “Call me paranoid.”

Suddenly, cold and crisp and fast, a hard shot rings out below the Commandos on the street – you jump in your chair, heart hammering in a reflexive type of fear as Bucky muscles himself to his feet. His footfalls are quiet as he moves around the glass on the floor, bolt-action M1 Garand slung over his chest at the ready.

Falsworth rolls over by your feet, eyes bleary. He whispers, voice tight with hidden panic. “Fuck was that?”

“Not sure,” you say, voice soft, “Buck is checkin’.”

The men all seem to stir at the sound – close and real – and soon Steve has hauled himself into sitting position beside Sawyer. The two share a canteen and you peer over your shoulder at Bucky; he’s peeking out the frame of what was a window. He’s quiet.

His cigarette is flicked to the floor, crushed.

“Can’t see anyone.”

“Maybe a misfire,” Pinky says, rubbing his face, “Bastards.”

The group settles into a quiet lull, eyes drawn at half-mast and ears tuned into the crumbling sounds around them; now, small pounds of rumble have the lot of them blinking around. And then, after a while of silence, Dugan speaks.

“You ever been hunting, Buck?”

The sniper is posed by the window still, tired eyes drawn up and down the street as he tugs his navy pea-coat tighter around his frame. He kicks his boots out, sliding down the wall. In the light of the moon, he looks softer than usual. His lashes catch the light, and you wonder for the hundredth time if he’s got a girl back home.

He must.

“No,” he says after a while, “Never been.”

“Seriously?”

“Was busy takin’ care of my Ma and my sisters,” his voice is fond, “And when I wasn’t doing that, I was boxing. Training to win so I could put food on the table. Or taking care of Stevie.”

He held himself like a boxer. He was light on his feet, quick – you’d seen him beat on the other companies in good natured pub fights. Blowing off steam meant throwing punches and you’d gladly step aside while Buck broke noses. Steve wasn’t far off, and Dugan could never not join in on the merriment.

“I could take care of myself, thanks,” Steve chirps quietly, “Don’t even try to swing that with me.”

The two were as close as brothers, though Steve was fair and sweet and Bucky dark and cutting. Opposites of each other in a lot of respects, though mirrored one another in spirit and charm and kindness. You’d over-heard chatter about Steve’s mom, about Bucky’s sisters in the past as subjects to pass the time – though, it was certainly not your place then. You were new. Still proving yourself.

Now, though, you dig. The sniper’s normally reserved self is lessened maybe thanks to lack of sleep, though you’re no different.

“Sisters?” you ask, tentative and slow, “How many?”

“Two.”

Your face splits into a sleepy grin as you close your eyes and burrow deeper into your chair. Buck fights a satisfied smile, fiddling with the scope of his sniper rifle. 

The air shifts into something of a growing bond; because suddenly the men are trained on their newest member, and you don’t mind the poking and prodding and digging about your life.

“What about you, kid?” it’s Dugan, voice gentle with a fatherly charm, “We don’t know much about our faithful medic.”

“I got a sister,” you finally say, “She’s young though, only ten. Still didn’t stop her from stealing my make-up back home. An’ my Mum – well, I haven’t heard from her in a few months.”

Dugan frowns. “Haven’t gotten any letters?”

“She wasn’t too happy with me joining the Nurses Corp. Don’t matter much. Couldn’t just sit around and sell war-bonds and look pretty, anyways.”

Bucky couldn’t see it – he couldn’t see you settling down. Not dolled up with victory curls in your hair and lipstick across your smile. You looked better with dirt along your cheeks, not rogue and he knew it without even seeing it. 

He stirs, stretching his legs and pressing fingers through his hair. He watches you, watches your chest ride and fall and your helmet slip down your forehead.

“And your father?” Steve asks with a gentle curiosity, “Heard from him?”

Your voice is heavy with sleep.

“My Pa came back from the war shell-shocked all those years ago, never been the same – but he’s proud of me. He’s my hero, you know.”

“Army?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, my ma used to say you take what you get and you live with it,” Bucky says after a while. His eyes are still set along the moonlight street, “S’a good motto, but you clearly didn’t settle, kid.”

“With being a nurse, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, a nurse in a field hospital didn’t save my father’s life. It was three field medics hunkered down in the trenches – young kids. No older than me. What’s stopping me from doing that, huh? A skirt? Times are changing.”

Buck blinks at you, a bit enamored with the response. It seems so… second nature. His ma would like you. So would Becca. “Point taken.”

“There’s a saying, you know – a mother in power would never send her sons to war,” you dip your head back and blink at the stars, “I wonder how many lives those nurses could have saved if they hadn’t been confined to their field hospitals.”

There’s a hum along the men, a recognition of trench warfare and mustard gas and no man’s land and the horror – and then silence. It’s comfortable, warm, and within minutes the rest of the men have slipped back asleep, shot in the dark forgotten. 

Bucky is awake, though, pressing himself upwards and moving to collapse at the foot of your chair. He swigs his canteen and you shift in your chair, boots pulled inwards and knees to your chest. 

The proximity is welcomed, and you can’t help but feel a bit safer. Like a cub napping beneath the lion. He settles in, wriggling a bit before he props his knees up and rifle in his lap. 

“Get some sleep,” he whispers, “I’m on watch.”

You move, touching his shoulder with cold fingers. Bucky blinks at the contact, hand moving to rub your own. Your grip slips loose, and you tuck yourself back into your coat. The moment burns and his touch is a little bit like holding fire. It bites, enough to remind you of the danger of love and war. Nothing is fair. Nothing lasts.

You adjust your helmet. “You sure?”

“Won’t let anything happen to you, doll.”

You trust him. His head leans against your hip, hair a bit wild from his helmet. You nod, even though he can’t see it, and relish in the small contact. 

“Thanks, Buck,” you murmur.

“Always.”

If I Didn’t Know Any Better - Cutthroat Challenge

Thank you again @sherrybaby14 for this lovely challenge! Very inspiring and gave me an opportunity to write a little Steve fluff! 

Prompt: Valentine’s dinner with Steve 

Sabotage One: Steve has to have a room filled with children’s toys. 

Sabotage Two: Can’t use the words yes/no/maybe or any synonym! 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x you / Steve Rogers x y/n

Summary: Who could have known that the only thing you needed to finally tell Steve how you feel would be a bottle of red wine and a room full of children’s toys? 

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and MORE fluff! It’s my birthday, so I’m feeling fluffy. 

Words: 2k 

*** 

“I can’t believe I’ve never been to your place before Steve!” you gasped at the glory of the expansive apartment. Nestled in, on a quiet street in Brooklyn, the antique building was almost dream-like with its ivy-covered façade and large oak trees outside. The exposed brick walls and original hardwood floors paired well with the plush rugs and brown leather couch sat in the living room. Everything was clean lines, utilitarian, but with just the right amount of sentimentality to make it warm. Homey. The kitchen, with its ample-sized marble island lay open, giving it a small modern feel for such an otherwise outdated space. In a way, the apartment was the perfect reflection of Steve. Wonderful smells wafted from the oven and stovetop, leading you further in and past the tall super soldier holding the door open for you.

“Please, (Y/N), come on in,” laughed Steve, closing the door and following you towards the kitchen.

“Where is everyone? I thought for sure I was going to be the last one here,” you admitted sheepishly as you set down your bags and began to unpack the copious bottles of wine. You attempted to suppress a smile as you remembered the aghast expression on the checkers face when you’d placed ten bottles of red blend down on the conveyer belt.

“They didn’t tell you?” Steve questioned, picking up one of the bottles and examining the label.

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You are SO talented! Everything you write is soo cite! I was wondering what if Bakugou had a crush on one of his classmates that was short and she was very insecure abt it but never showed it hiding it behind a smile amd she was sweet to everyone? I don't know? Thankk you. :3

This was the idea I got from this request! I thought it was cute and I hope you like what I came up with!! 

Thank you so much for such sweet words! You’re making me blush! (〃艸〃)

Bakugo, Katsuki

“Hey shortie! How’s the weather down there!” One of the rowdy members of class 1-C barked out suddenly at the passing girl, ever since the villain attack and the massive win at the sports festival class 1-A has gotten more and more attention. Both wanted and unwanted. Y/N who was getting called out, attempted to ignore them, she knew she was short— no one in her life would let her forget it. She couldn’t understand why her height was always center of attention, she was born this way. Why was it always a funny topic to others?

Clenching her fingers into a shaken fists, she glared over her shoulder at the others and she paused. “G-Good morning, I hope we all do our best today!” Y/N began again, smiling as brightly and as falsely as best as she could before rushing away from the snickering group. All her life has been nothing but remarks to her height, it wasn’t fair! Her mother was short, even her twin brother but they were all taller than her, so it didn’t matter. ‘Don’t ever let them see you cry!’ Izuku’s voice always echoed in her head whenever she wanted to break down, she had to run quickly. Because the moment she turned a corner, Y/N couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “S-Stupid…” she whined, her palms going to her watery eyes.

“Tch… you really are crying…” a familiar voice interrupted her sobs. The small girl looked up, feeling her eyes turn into water faucets seeing her childhood friend and fellow classmate’s ashen blonde hair through blurry tears.

“…Ka-Ka-Kacchaaaan….!” she wailed, trying to wipe away her tears but failing miserably.

Bakugo had been in the area when he overheard far too old nicknames being thrown out rather loudly, there was only one person short enough to get shit for it. Y/N Midoriya. The hothead watched the girl’s reaction intently his complete focus directed onto her and he found himself immediately following when she ran off, leaving behind a confused Kaminari, who was trying to tell Bakugo about the crazy dream he had last night. There was something off about the smile she just gave. It reminded him too much of Izuku’s when they were younger, the one he would give Bakugo, no matter how rude he was to him. It pissed him off! Plus he had seen the girl’s smile so many times in his life— there was no way that shit was real.

“Shut it! Just stop all the damn crying already and talk!” Seeing just how unraveled the girl really was pissed the blonde off further, now instead of the usual mild simmer, he was boiling mad. Class hasn’t even started yet and he hasn’t crossed paths with the other Midoriya in this forsaken school but here he was raging because this small girl was crying. Why did that piss him off so much? It was because she was weak and didn’t stick up for herself completely opposite from himself. He didn’t like weaklings, that’s why he’s so mad. Had to be the reason, he thought. But a sudden tap against his chest snapped him from his mind, his crimson irises looked down to see the girl’s fists pounding against him but he hardly felt anything when she did.

“Y-You’re so mean… Kacchan…” Y/N sniffed between words, her head hanging lower. She pulled her hands away from Bakugo and brought them back up to her face hiding it within her palms. The blonde just glared at the girl, watching everything she did so closely, studying her every move, and then his anger started to cool off while her sobs filled his ears again. She really was hurt by those nicknames, after all these years and he never knew it affected her this much. Bakugo bit at his lip some as he wracked his brain of what to do, he realized he really didn’t like to see her like this, hell this was the first time he’s seen this usually disgustingly happy girl anything but.

“Tell anybody about this….. and I’ll make sure you regret it….” Bakugo growled lowly and before the girl could even respond, Bakugo grabbed Y/N by the shoulders and pulled her into his strong, toned arms. He kept her close and hidden within his chest, allowing her finishing crying against him and she did. While this small girl sobbed, Bakugo kept silent, feeling slightly calmer than he would normally be. His crimson irises looked down at his fingers which were intertwined with her long dark green locks, they were soft. She was soft and she also smelled really, really good. ‘W-Why the hell am I thinking this crap?!’ he screamed within his head realizing he was starting to blush. “Oi…..Oi….. you done yet? …..We’re going to be late…” he managed to stamper out, patting the girl’s back gently. ‘Why am I being so gentle to stupid Deku’s sister, goddammit!’

Y/N nodded and pulled away from his body hesitantly, still nervous he actually hugged her, which he hadn’t done since they were five. She rubbed at her puffy eyes and attempted to blink, smiling now that she had gotten all that negativity out. “Tch… look at you….. idiot, let’s go!” Bakugo barked out, grabbing the girl’s wrist and dragging her back towards their classroom behind him. He was glad that she was behind because he didn’t want her to see his cheeks burning red hot. ‘Why was that hug so nice?! Why did that smile make my heart stop for a second!? I think I should go to the nurse….’ This boy was in complete denial over what he was feeling and the one mixing up his emotions was the girl of his childhood. 

“B-Bakugo has Y/N hostage!” Uraraka gasped the moment Bakugo slammed into the classroom with his hand still wrapped around Y/N’s wrist. This snapped everyone’s attention on the two, also seeing as they were the last remaining students to get to class. Izuku stood up with gasp as well, but the sound he made was far from it, he’d protect his twin sister from any trouble, Kacchan included!

“If you’re dating Y/N, then Deku will be your brother someday! Hey, that’s great! Maybe you two will finally get along!” Kirishima chimed in with a toothy grin.

“W-W-What kind of stupid crap!” Bakugo screamed, feeling steam coming out of his ears not only from anger but embarrassment. His face as red as his irises. “Like hell I would get along with him!”

“So you are dating!” Kaminari and Sero asked in unison and Bakugo exploded his quirk towards them.

“H-heh…..s-s-so why are you still holding h-her ha-hand Kacchan….?” Izuku was on the verge of fainting. Anyone but Kacchan!

Beautiful and Damned 8- The Snow Storm [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

A.N: My darlings, your amazing feedback makes me so happy, thank you! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!

Reminder: This story will not follow the show’s plot, so even if you haven’t watched the series, you can still read it.

The previous chapters are on my masterlist!

Summary: There are things softer than silk.

Word Count: 3177

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, poverty.

You couldn’t exactly feel it through your gloves, but it looked as if Geralt’s venom induced fever had gone down when the beams of the sun started spilling into the room. His skin wasn’t glistening anymore, and the roots of his white hair which were drenched with sweat before looked dry. You stretched out, making a face as your back cracked, reminding you of your uncomfortable position on the chair throughout the night, and you grabbed the sheets to pull it over him but the minute you made a move he opened with eyes with a gasp, then groaned.

“Hey,” you tried to smile as you dropped the sheets over his body, “I thought you might be cold.”

He blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus on you, “Princess?”

“Welcome back.”

“What are you-?” he tried to sit up as you rushed to stop him,

“Wait- Geralt, lie down.”

“I’m fine.”

“A giant spider attacked you!”

“Yeah an arachnomorph.”

“Yeah, whatever it is!” you said, “Ciri is fine, so is Jaskier if that’s what you want to check. You’re still hurt, you should stay put.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated and attempted to get off, but you put your hands on his shoulder, stopping him,

“Geralt, please,” you said gently, “For my sake.”

That seemed to do the trick, because he stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at you as you retrieved your hands.

“I’ll call the healer here,” you told him, then walked to the door to open it before telling the guard at the door to bring the healer here.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, as you closed the door again, “Do you need anything? Water?”

He nodded slowly and you grabbed the glass, filled it with water and handed it to him.

“Were you here the whole night?” he asked after taking a huge sip and you stole a look at him, then nodded.

“I thought that arac- aracmor-“

“Arachnomorph.”

“Yeah, that,” you said, “That it would kill you. Roach brought you back here.”

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Angel with a shotgun Final

part 1| part 2

wordcount: 3466

A/N: Real quick thanks to @nankri @fukyouthink @terrifying-testicles @domtamaki who made suggestions to me! It really helped me finish this! Thank you!

“Alright, let’s go Blasty,” Kaminari panted to himself as he practically dragged a half-aware Bakugo down the street.

He wasn’t drunk enough to not shoot back with an insult though. “You are weak as shit, Drooly.”

This was just not Kaminari’s night; instead of picking up chicks after a night out with his bros, him caring for a drunk, heartbroken Bakugo. “Well, not all of us can lift a building over our heads like Midoriya or Sato.”

“Drooly.”

He was in no mood to deal with anyone’s shit, especially Bakugo’s. “Stop insulting me and just focus on walking.”

“Kaminari,” Bakugo spoke in such a serious, broken tone that he couldn’t help but to stop to look at his friend. Kaminari stared at Bakugo, anxious to hear what he had to say. Maybe he was about to drunkenly open up to him like he did to Kirishima, finally admitting that they were best friend—

“I’m gonna throw up.”

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Sleeping Habits - Richie Tozier

word count: 4860 warnings: swearing, some sexual innuendos, mentions of trauma summary: after the Pennywise incident of ‘89, (y/n) finds herself unable to sleep.  unless it’s in the arms of her best friend, richie tozier.  but of course feelings have to get in the way and make casual cuddling a bit difficult as they get older.

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