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.”

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.”

Keep reading

Alpha!Bakugou with a daddy kink. Scenario plz

HELLO I DID NOT JUST MAKE A 5K WORDED FIC ON THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oops oh well, I DID!(๑ÒωÓ๑)

If you wanna read the smut, it is at the very end so you can skip all the other thangs if you wanna.~! 

It’s set a few years after graduating, characters are in early/middle twenties.

FEMS/O! NSFW! DADDY KINK! ☆*ヾ(-∀・*)*+☆

All I ask is for others not to kink shame the requests I write, thanks!

Bakugou, Katsuki ( Alpha!Bakugou ; Omegaverse )

Keep reading

We stan!!!!

chaotic good

Keep reading

New Dark!fic Idea: Tinder!AU

If anyone’s been on Tinder, I’m sure y'all have stumbled across those occasional couples looking for a third partner.

You came across their account at random. Bucky and Steve: two men looking to add a third into their life. Never before had you considered a polyamorous relationship, but seeing the two extremely handsome men from their profile stirred your body with fantasies and arousal.

You swiped right, only curious to see if you would match, but shockingly you do match with them only a few days later.

They were joking, right? Two godly gorgeous men thinking you were attractive enough to swipe right?

You couldn’t believe it.

They messaged you first, and you were initially skeptical. Sometimes you would be texting Bucky and other times it would be Steve. You had gotten to know them real well, spending a few late nights on your phone as the three of you continued to learn more about each other.

They asked to meet you.

A casual dinner date. They suggested a public restaurant, and you were happy enough with that option, knowing too well yourself the dangers of meeting people online in their own homes.

But the dinner date went magically. Bucky and Steve welcomed you with warm smiles and gentle hugs. They were nothing less of gentlemen as Steve pulled your chair and Bucky held your hand. You were a complete babbling mess, head spinning and a hand covering your face as the men impressed you more and more. You all discussed the things in your ongoing lives, and you asked more about Steve and Bucky’s current relationship, and what they were looking for with a relationship with another.

“Oh.” Bucky tilted his head and scratched the back of his neck, the blush tinting his face red, “Well Steve and I had talked about it for awhile, and we just thought it was appropriate to have someone else in our relationship give us the thing that’s missing between us.”

“Missing?” You raised a brow.

“What Bucky means to say is that,” Steve gently held his hand over his partner’s before grabbing yours from across the table, “we want to have a baby.”

Your eyes popped open.

Oh… They weren’t just trying to fuck you. They were trying to knock you up.

“You know most people use Tinder for hook-ups, right? Have you two considered a surrogate?”

They both chuckled at you as though you told a joke.

“We’re not looking for a surrogate, but no worries sweetie. We aren’t going to force you if that’s what you’re uncomfortable with,” Steve said as he patted your hand. “Being with you is all we want for now.”

They seemed to be trying so hard–actually interested in having a long-lasting relationship with you. And you knew you shouldn’t have taken their offer to drive you home, but they were just so kind, how could you decline?

You trusted them.

They dropped you off and walked you to your door. Bucky took the initiative and kissed you goodbye, and you melted against his hot lips and touch. Steve was too bashful to do the same, but you pecked his cheek and hugged him anyway.

The two men walked back to their car after you closed the door. Bucky sat in the passenger’s seat while Steve walked around over to the driver’s side. Bucky hissed, his hands holding his hair back while Steve finally entered the car.

“She’s the one Steve. Fuck! That’s our baby girl.” The brunet let go of his hair, hissing the words through his teeth as his fists rested against his thighs. “I can’t wait like this anymore. We have to go back and get her. I don’t want her out here like this—”

“Hey Buck, calm down.” Steve turned and held his shoulder. “It’s alright. We’ll have our baby soon. We just can’t rush this too fast.”

“As long as it’s with her,” Bucky sighed.

Steve smiled before turning on the car ignition.

“Don’t worry. She’s the one.”

- - - - -

This is just an idea and not an actual drabble or fic teaser. Though I will probably save this fic idea for a rainy day–way into the future when I get my other fic obligations done. Not sure what route to go with this though: forced relationship and breeding kink or forced age regression and dd/lg kink. Where do y’all wanna see this going?