whydouwantaname said: Steve and Bucky going to a fancy restaurant. Steve being worried that the Winter Soldier may appear if Bucky is angered somehow but he is all 30s/40s charme and all the people fall for him. All but Steve because Steve already fell for him 70 years ago! XD

You got more than I intended to give. Congrats. The prompt spoke to me…

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The entire experience was surreal from the lavish red-woven tapestries hung like curtains over the windowless walls to the polished and flaked marble tile. Steve had never been to a restaurant so high end, or any other building designed for the affluent for that matter. His family had never been anywhere near wealthy. The medical bills alone had made sure of that, let alone the loss of his mother. Living from paycheck to paycheck and scrounging for proper medications never allowed him to experience a five-star restaurant, which is exactly why Bucky had thought this a good idea. Despite the incredibly romantic gesture, the super-soldier found it hard to relax, feeling inadequate to be in such high company, even if a couple of men had stripped themselves of their jackets post entry.

James had grown up among one of the military camps, acting as a mascot for a long while. After he had decided to run away from the orphanage, he had been unofficially adopted by the camp’s warden and was paid a hefty allowance weekly. That is until he was considered working-age and said reward could be rightfully deemed his wage. As such, he always had plenty of dough lining his pockets to waste on the dames and had accompanied his ‘father’ to formal military galas and the like.

Bucky’s memory was spotty as best, flashes would sear their way before his eyes before he could fully comprehend. But he could remember a couple of these parties and he could remember his old friend.

Unfortunately, Steve also understood that he could remember the pain and torture associated with Hydra, associated with the colour red, and the deep crimsons in the decorum did nothing to set his mind at ease. Bucky, however was an intoxicating sight. His dark auburn hair was tied slightly off-kilter, framing the man’s neck on one side. It was odd to see him in a suit. He’d never worn anything but military uniforms to special events in his teens and early twenties. Looking at him now from across the white-clad table, Rogers knew that the dolls were missing out and felt special for being the only one to see Bucky like this, adorned in a sleek navy suit that hugged his figure in all the right ways. No longer hungry for just his food, his eyes traveled upward to meet those of his date, but were met instead with the disconcerting sight of a gleaming hand positioned over his eyes.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve lowered his menu, paying more attention to the situation at hand. A momentary silence passed before Bucky answered, hissing in a breath from the headache that was, no doubt, plaguing him.

"Yeah, no sweat…"

"You’re sure?" He assured, glancing around. The last thing either of them needed was another public episode. In a place like this, there would be no way to evacuate the civilians quickly enough. His mind began to burn through the locations of exits, the number of people in the room and everything else he had cataloged six different times since entering the room out of sheer nerves alone.

"Steve, don’t."


"I’m fine. I can get through this, just… Don’t go all Captain America on me." Bucky reluctantly uncovered his eyes to look at his date and attempted to feign a smile. "I just want you to have a good time." 

"We can have a good time somewhere else," he suggested, just starting to stand from the table when Bucky’s fist came down on the table hard enough to produce an exceptionally audible thud. Steve immediately tensed, clenching his jaw subconsciously as he eased back into his chair. 

"Why do you always do this," Barnes fumed quietly, turning his gaze to the napkin resting in his lap. "You have so much faith in everyone but me, even that share crop you’re always with." Rogers was caught dumbfounded by Bucky’s words. By no means was Natasha a harlot, but he was right about him.

"Buck, I-"

"Stow it."

The waitress came to take their orders and, upon both having received their entrees, the men ate their respective meals in relative silence. Bucky calmed down, Steve acclimated to the environment and soon enough they were commenting on each other’s choice of wardrobe rather than the incident only a few moments before.

"I’m just trying to look out for ya’," Steve pursued after a pause in their mutual ogling. 

"I know, but that’s my job. It’s always been… Hasn’t it?” The last two words tore straight through his heart.

"Yeah, Buck, it is."


The first five people who send me a prompt in my ask-box will receive a short Stucky drabble in their names.


Bonus Round!

Would you look at that! I satisfied all the promised ficlets for my previous post! :) Unfortunately, a couple of you reblogged or liked it after the cut-off, so I would like to offer you a consolation prize. If you reblogged or liked my ‘For Anyone Who Ships Stucky or is Otherwise Interested' post (all three of you) after the cut-off, meaning that you did not recieve a ficlet in your name on the tag, send me a prompt in my ask and I will write you a four-line poem to that prompt.

Thank you!

Oh the Irony

"Lip piercing, right? Yeah, I’m not ready for that," he had said. Little did he know that he would not only end up with someone with a full-metal arm, but with a man to boot. If the 20th century hadn’t already hit Steve hard, it sucker-punched him when the first spark of romance flashed between him and his old friend.

Bucky, on the other hand, was far more adjusted to the modern times and had long since abandoned the attempt to figure himself out, sexuality included. Whatever was, was. Whatever wasn’t, wasn’t. That was it; end of story.

 So when the two finally shared a kiss, James took control, never once touching the other man with his bionic limb throughout the embrace, and Rogers broke them apart, quickly going back in for a second taste of what he had never considered an option.

The Midas Touch

I’ve been seeing commercials and other said nonesuch advertising with the slogans or symbolism from the story of King Midas fairly frequently nowadays here in America. Most notoriously, the automotive repair shop advertised on television but also utilized for other miscellaneous items and services, this has caught my attention in a very negative way. To me, this shows how far this country has fallen down the rabbit hole. Do these companies not realize that the story of Midas was a cautionary tale? Or is it just that they expect the majority of the American population to be ignorant to that fact? I fear it may be the latter.

For those of you who have been caught unawares, the story of King Midas is as follows:

Midas was a king of great fortune who ruled the country of Phrygia, in Asia Minor. He had everything a king could wish for. He lived in luxury in a great castle. He shared his life of abundance with his beautiful daughter. Even though he was very rich, Midas thought that his greatest happiness was provided by gold. His avarice was such that he used to spend his days counting his golden coins! Occasionally he used to cover his body with gold objects, as if he wanted to bath in them. Money was his obsession. One day, Dionyssus, the god of wine and revelry, passed through the kingdom of Midas. One of his companions, a satyr named Silenus, got delayed along the way. Silenus got tired and decided to take a nap in the famous rose gardens surrounding the palace of king Midas. There, he was found by the king, who recognized him instantly and invited him to spend a few days at his palace. After that, Midas took him to Dionyssus. The god of celebration, very grateful to Midas for his kindness, promised Midas to satisfy any wish of him. Midas though for a while and then he said: I hope that everything I touch becomes gold. Dionyssus warned the king to think well about his wish, but Midas was positive. Dionyssus could do nothing else and promised the king that from that following day everything he touched would turn into gold.

The next day, Midas, woke up eager to see if his wish would become true. He extended his arm touching a small table that immediately turned into gold. Midas jumped with happiness! He then touched a chair, the carpet, the door, his bathtub, a table and so he kept on running in his madness all over his palace until he got exhausted and happy at the same time! He sat at the table to have breakfast and took a rose between his hands to smell its fragrance. When he touched it, the rose became gold. I will have to absorb the fragrance without touching the roses, I suppose, he thought in disappointment. Without even thinking, he ate a grape but it also turned into gold! The same happened with a slice of bread and a glass of water. Suddenly, he started to sense fear. Tears filled his eyes and that moment, his beloved daughter entered the room. When Midas hugged her, she turned into a golden statue! Despaired and fearful, he raised his arms and prayed to Dionyssus to take this curse from him.

While it is true that Dionyssus returned his daughter to Midas after a period of repentance, the moral of the story was that greed is petrifying. Businesses using this story as part of their capitalist marketing campaigns makes me wonder if they doubt our intelligence, or if they are correct in their assumption that no-one of consequence will notice them laughing in our faces.

Source: www.greeka.com

Trust Me

Dial: 321-233-3222-399-321-233-322-321 on your phones.

During the Night

Barnes was no stranger to odd sleeping habits. He himself would toss and turn, moan, sleepwalk and essentially do everything else which would make him a poor bed-partner. However, he did usually manage to sleep through the night. It was due to this fact that he had never noticed how the bed would be devoid of the familiar weight at his side in the later hours of the evening.

One night, James woke in a cold sweat, memories from his capture that he’d thought had been long since tucked away waging war against his usual coma-like rest. In a panic he had called out for the only one he knew would come, only to find the bed empty and cool to the touch. “Steve!” A muffled groan came from the offending side of the bed, causing James to spare a glance over the edge and meet with familiar cobalt eyes.”What the f*ck are you doing down there?!”

"Bed’s too soft," the captain slurred, blearily and caught unawares by Bucky’s distress. He blinked a couple times. "What’s wrong? I’m up."

"Nothin’," the brunette sighed, relieved that everything was alright after all. His breathing, however, was still erratic which did nothing to reassure the now-conscious blonde. Bucky waved his hand near his head to indicate the original source of his distress. "It was nothin’."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," he murmured, climbing down to join Rogers on the floor with a huff. "You’re right; bed’s too soft."

The rest of the night was spent on the plush carpeting of their bedroom floor. A sturdy metallic arm held Steve flush against an equally hard chest of a man possessive and raw with unsaid fear.

To Those Who Ship Stucky or Are Otherwise Interested


I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

I will write a paragraph-length ficlet for anyone who likes or reblogs this post from the original source, not as a publicity stunt but as a writing exercise for an upcoming full-length, multi-chapter fic.


Mischief managed.

Update: Another post like this will come again, but, for now, this one is closed. Thank you all for your participation! :)

Ficlets are coming for the users reallyohcrap and idrathersleepforever. 


Bucky would have never in a thousand years confessed this fact, willingly, to Steve, but occasionally his bionic limb would shock him when submerged or otherwise tainted by water. The super-soldier was already wary about the metal rusting or arm malfunctioning whilst Stark was out of town, the last thing he needed was the knowledge that Bucky’s nerves were slowly being fried by every shower or bath shared between them.

Unfortunately after nine months of successfully schooling his features in Steve’s presence, the pain had gotten to a point where it was far too immense to hide it anymore, accidently failing to bite back a strangled cry one night Steve decided to draw a romantic bath. To Bucky’s surprise, Rogers hadn’t decided to tear him a new hole, but give him an intimate sponge bath and cup of Bayley’s-coffee instead. The scolding would come later, he knew, but he was happy at the time and, when you can die at any moment, that was good enough for him.

On His Terms

Bucky Barnes no longer liked to be touched in any way, neither shoulders brushing in a crowd or a tender caress. He did, once upon a time, but years of brainwashing, experimentation and torture successfully scrubbed him clean of that human desire, at least for a long while.

A year spent with his old friend, now boyfriend, had managed to change his opinion ever so slightly from when he first was re-introduced to the world. Steve had a talent expressing himself through a kiss or through any embrace for that matter. He was always gentle with Bucky, easing in slowly until their lips barely touched before pulling back slightly, waiting for James to come to him. It was infuriatingly teasing at times, when it was meant to be, but mostly it was to ensure his comfort, to ensure that the Captain wouldn’t scare him away. Bucky could see the fear in those eyes whenever he took just a moment too long to reciprocate. That’s what he needed. Touch on his terms.

Anything else was too much. An off-handed arm around his shoulder would sent Steve to the floor. He couldn’t help it. It was instinct.

There where times, however that the Winter Soldier would grow frustrated, unsure how to ask after something so basic and physical as a hug or hand on his knee. In those times, Steve didn’t know to offer. Both would just sit there in a heavy silence waiting for the other to move.

Then a kiss, just as always: on his terms.