Latest Posts by vintagestarlight - Page 4

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REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

Works In Progress

Updated: 4-22-25

do y'all also have mutuals whom you’re actually a fan of? like everytime u see them on your dash u just,,,,, “u go mutual that’s my mutual!!!!! i love u mutual!!!! i can’t even believe we’re mutuals i don’t deserve u!!!! keep being u mutual!!!”

꧁༒༺ Navigation ༻༒꧂

Hey loves! Welcome to my blog where everyone can feel free to be themselves(this is a no judgement zone!) here you will find everything you need to know about my blog!!♡

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.

｡･:*˚:✧｡𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔｡･:*˚:✧｡

ೃ⁀➷here you will find out all my rules/boundaries for my blog!

｡･:*˚:✧｡𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩｡･:*˚:✧｡

ೃ⁀➷here you will find a collection of my works all in one place!

｡･:*˚:✧｡𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨 𝙄𝙣 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨｡･:*˚:✧｡

ೃ⁀➷here you can find everything I'm currently working on/planning to work on in the future

｡･:*˚:✧｡𝙁𝙞𝙘/𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙨｡･:*˚:✧｡

ೃ⁀➷here you will find any blogs or fics I recommend. I have a lot so I'll only add to this if someone sends in an ask requesting fics!

۵♡۵𝚂𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚑'𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝۵♡۵

Updated: 3-24-25

*all of the dividers I use on my blog are made by @firefly-graphics!

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Modern Warfare Masterlist

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Fourth Wing Masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔*ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘦𝘵𝘤.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 18+ 𝘋𝘖 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘰(𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 18+ 𝘰𝘳 20𝘴, 30𝘴, 𝘦𝘵𝘤.) 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴(𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧). 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴. 𝘉𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 18+ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨(𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦) 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯. 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵(𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴) 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢😣

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺(𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦) 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳(𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦! 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵! 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰𝘴/𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨!

This was so good! I'm honestly in love with this story🥺❤️❤️

Chapter 4: Back to Blighty

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

*Please do not plagiarise, copy, or repost anywhere else.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Autistic!Reader

*18+ only. Minors DNI. If you follow/reblog, please have your age (or an indicator of your age) in your bio.

Summary: Your time at the front has come to an end, and you return to London with the rest of the SSR team. While reuiniting with old friends, you make some new ones too, and can finally have some quality time with Bucky.

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, making out, suggestive stuff, talk about the war and invasions, found family, some cheesy musical numbers (yes, really). No smut in this chapter but it's coming soon, don't you worry!

Author Notes:

I don't know what I think of this chapter. Depression's been kicking my ass lately so I'm kind of doubting everything right now.

The character Thea is coded as having ADHD. Her traits are based off one of my best friends whom I adore (when we hang out we're a neurodivergent powerhouse).

As I’ve been writing I’ve also fallen in love with Thea as a character. Maybe I should do a spin-off about her. Click to read her bio.

The Windmill Theatre was a famous variety theatre that became best known for its shows involving nude models in still tableaus.

Click for full Author Notes

DISCLAIMER: The reader’s autistic traits are predominantly based on my own, but every autistic person is different and will display different traits in different ways.

Your friend, Thea, was a dancer. Or at least, a former dancer. The toast of the Folies Bergère and the London Criterion in the 1920s, she had since turned her hand to choreography and now directed shows at the Windmill Theatre.

Yes, that Windmill Theatre.

Your peculiarities balanced each other out. She could be forgetful, you remembered everything. She was disorganised, you were the very much the opposite. She was always late, your time management was impeccable. Sometimes it was carnage, but most of the time you were the perfect pair, and she was one of the best people you had ever met.

Right now you were using one of the public phones at the port, trying to liaise with Thea about collecting your key. She had been looking after your flat since you had been away, and you were trying to sort a good time to meet her.

So far, you were struggling.

"Is that tapdancing going on in the background?" You winced.

"Yes love, sorry. I'll get her to stop." You heard Thea move away from the mouthpiece and call out. "Sweetie, would you stop for a moment please? My poor friend can't hear me."

That wasn't strictly true, but it was easier to understand than 'my friend is sensitive to noise and can't focus on my voice while you're dancing and will probably cry if you don't stop.'

The tapping ceased, much to your relief.

"Sorry darling, what was I saying?"

"About my key. Our train gets in at five.”

"Yes! I gave Joey your key."

"Why does Joey have my key?"

"I'm in rehearsals when you arrive in London."

“I could meet you at the theatre?”

“It’s the sitzprobe for the Christmas show sweetie, I’ll be backstage.”

"Fair point! So where am I meeting Joey?"

"He's watching the rehearsals, so you can meet him in the auditorium. I'll let them know you're coming."

Thea's fiancé, Joey, was a lovely man. A former RAF pilot who had lost his right arm in action, he and Thea had met one night after a show at The Windmill and had been inseparable ever since.

It had been wonderful to see her so happy, and with a man who thought the world of her. Now, you couldn’t wait to introduce her to Bucky.

"Can I bring a friend?" You asked tentatively.

"Of course you can, sweetie!" And you could hear she was beaming on the other end of the phone. “Wait, a friend? Is this a pal, or did you find a nice gentleman out in Italy?”

“You’ll have to wait and see!” You giggled, wanting to tell her everything but knowing that you could be easily overheard in your current location. You also knew that you had only paid for a limited amount of time on the phone, and as soon as you started enthusing, you wouldn’t stop.

***

You met Bucky in the corridor of the train when you were returning from the lavatories. You had been separated when disembarking the boat, which had made you quite anxious, so finding him again was a great relief.

Then again, travelling in general had always been incredibly stressful for you, the noise, the queues, all the people. You wished that you could magic yourself to new locations without the stresses and strains.

“Hello, sarge!” You gasped, trying to hide how relieved you were to see him.

"Lieutenant, I need your services." He smirked, pulling you in and enveloping you in his arms. You hugged him back, realising just how exhausted you were in that moment.

“I was wondering where you’d got to.” You said softly. “We were all ordered onto the train after collecting our bags.”

“We had extra checks on our papers.” Bucky told you, rolling his eyes. “Took ages. Anyway, now that I’ve found you, can I have a kiss?”

“Only if you say please.” You teased. Normally you didn’t know how to joke with people, it was hard to know whether the joke would land or not. But with Bucky it felt different, you could read him because he was honest, and he was good at sensing what you needed, or asking if he was unsure.

Bucky straightened his back and raised one eyebrow. “Pretty please. With a ribbon on top.”

You nodded, grinning broadly, before pursing your lips to meet his as he pulled you closer. He kissed you desperately, hungrily, not caring who might see.

“I have a compartment to myself.” You told him. “I was sharing with an old fart who smelled of peppermints, but luckily he had his eyes closed the whole time so I didn’t have to speak to him. But now I’m by myself. Come and join me!”

Your ramble made Bucky giggle, before he rested his nose against yours. “Hmm… I think a bit of canoodling will definitely make the journey go faster.” He said with mock seriousness. “Good idea, lieutenant.”

For the remainder of your journey to St Pancras, you sat on Bucky’s lap in your compartment, curtains drawn, in each other’s arms.

“I need to say something.” Bucky murmured as he snuggled his head into your neck.

“That sounds ominous!” You didn’t like when people said things like this, even if they ended up telling you something nice. I have something to tell you, we need to talk… those words never failed to fill you with anxiety. “I hope it’s not something bad?”

“Oh no, it’s good! I promise!” He looked at your mouth for a moment before he spoke. “When I got captured, I never expected to survive. Then, when Steve rescued me by some miracle, all I wanted was to find some peace. I’m just so tired and battered that I didn’t think I was capable of… I never expected to…” He broke off, thinking about what he was going to say next. “I never expected to meet someone. I didn’t even think I was ready. But I feel safe with you. You don’t expect me to be anything, you don’t ask me to hide anything. I don’t have to pretend when I’m with you. Back in Brooklyn I was expected to put on an act, always be the charmer, always be the one in control, be the protector. But around you I can be vulnerable. Ah jeez, am I making any sense?”

You nodded, trying to stop yourself from crying with joy at his words.

“And I hope you feel as though you can be yourself around me, and be vulnerable if you have to. Because I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He continued, before kissing your nose.

You didn’t say anything in response, you didn’t know how to put your feelings into words at that moment. Instead, you nodded, letting the emotion wash over you and the joyful tears fall. Gently, you covered his face with kisses, before nuzzling your face into his neck, pulling him close.

***

Suitcase in one hand, Bucky’s hand in the other, you led your handsome sergeant down the steps of the Windmill Theatre. As he saw the posters by the door, he gently tugged your hand and whispered in your ear.

“Wait, is this…?”

“Yes.”

“This is…”

“Yes.”

“The Windmill?”

“Yes, the Windmill!”

“Oh wow.”

“But you won’t see anything of that nature today, Bucky. The girls wear robes during rehearsals.”

You were merely stating a fact, but Bucky snorted with laughter.

“Baby, I only have eyes for you!” He laughed. “But I appreciate the heads up.”

“There’s no need to be ashamed of wanting to look at a naked woman Bucky. Well, unless you’re a Peeping Tom, then it’s wrong. But these girls get paid and want to do it here. The real shows are stunning, they look like artworks.” You had gotten used to rambling in front of Bucky, because you knew it was safe to do so. He never told you to stop or shrink yourself. He said he found it endearing and sweet.

He put his arm around you and kissed your ear, before whispering into it, speaking slowly so that you could hear through your earplugs.

“I bet you look like an artwork too.”

You could feel your face go hot. Bucky must have noticed your shy grin, because he giggled and kissed you again.

“Come on, lieutenant, let’s get your key and get you home.”

The auditorium was less crowded than you’d anticipated, but you still wore your earplugs, just to be safe. The orchestra were already in their seats, warming up, but the stage was empty. Your heart leapt in your chest as you thought of Thea backstage, giving a pep talk to the dancers, buzzing with energy.

You couldn’t wait to give her a hug.

In one of the auditorium seats you spotted Joey, dressed in his uniform and medals, empty sleeve pinned neatly. As soon as he spotted you and Bucky approaching, he grinned and waved.

“Joey!” You waved at him.

"Well hello there!" Joey greeted you in a loud whisper, his face beaming. You couldn't help but smile too as he pulled you into a hug. “It’s good to see you.” He said. “Thea’s going to explode with happiness!” He looked at Bucky then. “And is this your friend? Thea told me all about it. Good to meet you, chap!”

Your heart started to pound as Joey extended his hand for Bucky to shake.

“I didn’t… I just mentioned I was bringing someone!” You explained, flustered, but Bucky was smiling.

“Call me Bucky. It’s nice to meet you too.” He said, shaking Joey’s hand, before slipping his arm around your waist.

Joey handed you your key, counting the keys on the loop first to make sure all were accounted for.

“Thea told me to tell you, that she won’t be able to get away to say hello, but that I’m to give you a hug from her, which I already have done, and she will see you at The Fighting Cocks tomorrow. She said to bring friends.”

The Fighting Cocks was your local. You liked it there, the pub landlady was lovely, the barmaids knew you, and it had a nice, quiet atmosphere. But ‘bring friends’ – that was typical Thea. You had read Carl Jung’s theory about Introverts and Extroverts, and she was definitely in the latter category.

You liked making friends, it was just that too many people in one go could be a little overwhelming.

“Will you stay for a song?” Joey asked. “They’re really rather good.”

“We’ll stay for a song, then I think we best get going.” You looked at Bucky, who nodded in agreement. “As for the pub… maybe we could invite Captain Rogers?” You asked him tentatively. Most of your other friends lived outside of London, and the only real pal you had made out in Italy was Fraser, and he was still out at the base. You weren’t sure whether Peggy would join if you asked her. Sometimes it was physically painful asking somebody to spend time with you, only to be told ‘oh I’d love to but I’m just so busy’. That always meant ‘no’.

“I’ll ask the guys from the 107th too. They’d enjoy experiencing an old English pub I think.” Bucky smiled, although from his eyes you could see that the thought was making him feel tired.

As Joey smiled and beckoned you both to get a better view of the stage, you pulled Bucky close and whispered, “If the pub gets too intense tomorrow, just say ‘custard creams’ to me and we’ll leave.”

Bucky giggled, “What are custard creams?”

“They’re vanilla flavoured biscuits, although you can’t often get them these days with rationing. I thought it would make a good code word.”

“Custard creams.” Bucky grinned. “I’ll remember.” He stopped and looked at you as you found some places in the aisle. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I get tired quite easily these days. It’s good to know I have an out tomorrow if I want to go home.”

“My friend Judith and I used to do something similar at university parties. Around 1 o’clock in the morning people either get very sleepy or very loud, and it stops being fun. So we would say ‘I have to be up for the milkman tomorrow’ and that would be our code to leave.”

“Why the milkman? Doesn’t the milkman just leave the bottles outside the door?”

You shrugged. “People would be too drunk to apply any logic to the statement.”

Bucky giggled again. “Well, ’custard creams’ is much easier to remember.” He said fondly.

Just then, the orchestra started, and the singer strutted on stage. He started a bright, energetic song. As he approached the first chorus, a line of dancers started to appear.

The rhythm of the steps, the piano, the singing… It was all so wonderful, the way it was affecting your body and making you want to move.

God, you had missed music. You had missed it so much.

You started to sway to the music, your hands up and waving in a manner you had seen stage performers do. Joey, laughing, joined you.

Bucky just wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed with you. His body was relaxing against yours, and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew that he was smiling.

***

As Bucky walked you to your door, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. The thought of asking him to go to bed with you had been on your mind since your kiss in the woods. In fact, you had been thinking about it constantly.

But just asking him ‘would you like to come in and sleep with me’ just wasn’t the way things were done.

“Do you want to come in for tea?” You asked instead. “Thea said that my neighbour Mrs Penlington dropped round some things yesterday, so there’s not a lot but we can…”

“I have to report to the SSR accommodation unfortunately.” Bucky said with a furrowed brow. He took you in his arms gently. “Tell you what, let’s meet tomorrow, before the pub thing with your friend. We can go for a walk in the park and have lunch? Then I’ll tell the guys to meet us at the pub.”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good.” You said, trying to hide your disappointment as he kissed you.

After Bucky left, you sat pondering over his words.

Safely in your flat, unpacking your things, refamiliarizing yourself with the old place, you replayed the interaction in your head.

Bucky was honest with you, always had been, so if he genuinely didn’t want to come in, he would have said so, but sometimes people used excuses to soften the blow.

He saw you to your door, that was something. He came with you to the Windmill. He had time to do that, so why didn’t he want to come in?

And you had spent half the train journey from Dover petting and kissing, and he had told you how much he cared about you, confessing his feelings.

Perhaps you were overthinking it all, but when you had mostly encountered dishonesty from people and had gotten used to deciphering their words like a tangled web, it was hard to tell your brain to work differently.

Maybe he was just tired. He’s been through a lot. He’s exhausted. It’s understandable that he’d want some alone time. You want alone time, you always need it after work.

But I’m here. All his. Why didn’t he take the chance?

Maybe he was just tired.

***

“This stuff’s good!” Bucky said, digging into the cottage pie in front of him.

The two of you had met for a walk in Regent’s Park, before finding a spot to have lunch. The restaurant was nice and quiet, just how you liked it, but your mind was still racing.

“See, English food isn’t all bad!” You joked, although you could hear the nerves in your voice. You were still pondering on the evening before, and were struggling to hide how tense you were.

Bucky finished his mouthful, and gestured to you with his fork. “What’s troubling you? Tell me. You kept staring into space when we were walking in the park.”

Here it was. You liked that your relationship with Bucky was based on honesty, but that didn’t make it any easier to put your feelings into words.

“I suppose I was a little sad when you didn’t want to come in yesterday. After the train journey and what you said about me maybe looking like an artwork I thought…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bad. “I’m sorry. I guess I get a little confused when things aren’t crystal clear.”

Bucky swirled the dregs around his teacup. When he spoke his voice was sad and quiet.

“I was exhausted baby, I’m sorry. I would have just fallen asleep, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Told you. The poor boy just wanted to rest.

“I wouldn’t have minded you falling asleep.” You told him.

“I know, I just needed some time alone after all that travelling and the excitement of the day. That and… there was something Steve said that was playing on my mind. I guess I needed to process it all. I didn’t really know how to say all of that yesterday.”

You nodded, understanding. You reached out and held his hand, smiling when he lifted it to his mouth and gave it a kiss.

“What did Captain Rogers say?”

Bucky sighed and bit his lip. “I think Steve will want me back at the front with him. Not yet, but soon. He wants to stamp out Hydra, and I can’t let him go alone.”

No. No, that’s so unfair.

“But you said you were tired! You’ve been given time to rest!” You protested.

“We have some time here. It’ll be January when we head out, February if I’m lucky. That gives me a month or two.”

“That’s not enough.” You protested. “You were… After what happened to you…” You didn’t want to put it into words. He had been through enough. He needed peace. He deserved it.

He took both of your hands, squeezing them again.

“But do you understand why I’ll have to go?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“The SSR might post me elsewhere too.” You conceded. “I’ll have to go where they send me. Or, stay put in London until the war is won. I understand duty.”

“But you know that doesn’t change how I feel about you, and the fact that I want this to continue.”

“This?”

“You and me.”

You and me. Me and him.

Not caring who saw, you got up from your seat and moved to the other side of the table. Gently, you sat on Bucky’s lap, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

As Bucky cuddled you in response, he whispered in your ear, “That old broad by the window is staring daggers at us.”

“Let her.” You replied, kissing his neck.

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “That’s my girl.” He said.

***

A group of people could be overwhelming, yes, but this group you didn’t mind so much.

Dare you think it, but you felt at home.

The boys of the 107th were a little boisterous, but you had to admit, they were a lot of fun.

You got on with Gabe the best. A fellow linguist, the two of you had started excitedly talking about your studies and what you loved about French and German. Jacques meanwhile was grateful to have another person who spoke his language, and you, him and Gabe had to halt your French banter and make sure that everybody else could understand you.

Morita and Dugan were sweethearts, even if they did have a propensity for sharing inappropriate jokes. You didn’t understand some of them, but Morita was drunk enough to explain them to you. That was very much appreciated, and helped you understand the humour. Falsworth was a little posh and stiff upper lipped, but charming too. He had scolded Dugan and Morita for sharing such obscene jokes with ‘a lady’, but when you had informed him that the girls of the ATS were just as foul-mouthed, he had laughed along and relented.

You had also gotten the chance to speak to Captain Rogers too, or, as he insisted you call him, Steve. You had only spoken to him a few times at the base in Italy, and you found him to be an absolute delight.

When Joey and Thea had arrived, you had become overwhelmed with joy. She had swept you up into a tight hug, and had insisted upon meeting your ‘friend’.

When you had introduced Bucky, she had grinned broadly and winked at you, mouthing ‘I approve’ in a way that Bucky could see. It made him blush, and you hide your face in your hands for a moment, but it was lovely.

Joey had fitted in perfectly with Steve and Bucky, while Thea joined the little French circle with you, Gabe, and Jacques. She had visited Marseille, Jacques’ hometown, for a holiday when she was employed at the Folies Bergère, and watching his face light up as they shared stories was lovely to see.

Usually, groups intimidated you slightly. There was always an expectation to act in a certain way, and the social rules were different. But tonight you felt relaxed. Perhaps it was Bucky’s presence, his kind nature, loving and accepting you.

Or perhaps, in a way, this rag-tag team felt more comfortable and safe than your own family.

***

“So, the lieutenant here tells us that you used to be a showgirl.” Falsworth said to Thea, speech slurring slightly after his fifth pint.

“More of a dancer really darling, but I’m more of a choreographer now, although I can still do a very good high kick!” Thea’s enthusiastic rambling almost matched yours, and you loved it.

“Dancing, huh?” Steve grinned. “I should pay you for some lessons, I’ve been told I have two left feet.”

“Well, I do a touch of singing as well.”

“You’ll have to serenade us!” Dugan added.

“Alright then.” Thea said frankly. “There’s a piano here, and Marge the pub landlady has a wonderful collection of sheet music.”

She got to her feet, smiling, the rest of the group looking at her in amazement.

Thea had once told you that there was no point in feigning modesty. If you had a skill, you should be proud of it. You liked that motto.

“I’ll accompany you.” You offered, standing to go and join her.

Yes, just like old times. You and Thea singing at the piano together!

Piano was something you had picked up as a child. It had been something to focus on, an escape, a way to keep your hands and mind busy while adults argued around you. Your grandmother had taught you the fundamentals before she passed away, and although you were no George Gershwin, you could accompany yourselves and others competently.

“What do you want to sing?” You asked Thea as you set yourself up at the piano with the array of sheet music.

“Something from the music halls! That’s where I got my start after all!”

That didn’t narrow it down very much.

“Hmm…” You flicked through the songbooks, until you found something. “How about this? When I Take My Morning Promenade?”

“Yes!” Thea cried, clapping her hands.

“I’ll turn the pages for you, baby.” You heard Bucky say, and he appeared from behind you, standing by the piano.

Oh you sweet, sweet thing.

“After the last war, the old boys used to love this song. It reminded them of happier times…” Thea rambled as you set yourself up, Bucky primed and ready to turn the pages.

Thea started to sing, somehow giving the provocative song class and charm. Everybody in the pub was looking at her as she sang, and you couldn’t blame them.

Everyone except Bucky, his eyes were only on you.

Well, you and occasionally the song book. Sometimes you had to tap his wrist to prompt him to turn the page.

As Thea finished her song, the whole pub erupted in applause. You and Bucky joined in. Thea’s singing never failed to make you smile, and it felt so amazing to be surrounded by music again.

As Thea gestured to you to extend the applause to her accompanist, you extended your arms and laughed, before shrinking rather shyly.

“Now let’s sing a duet, sweetie.” She said, coming over to the piano and taking a seat beside you. “Your choice.”

You knew the perfect song, no sheet music required, and as you began to play and sing slowly and with feeling, Thea was full of emotion.

“A lady known as Paris, romantic and charming, has left her old companions and faded from view. Lonely men with lonely eyes are seeking her in vain. The streets are where they were, but there’s no sign of her. She has left the Seine…” You sang.

You knew how much Thea missed Paris, her life there, and every piece of news of the occupation there broke her heart. Sometimes it helped to feel something, to sing about it, to mourn it, and that’s what this song was for.

Thea took a deep breath and started to sing the chorus with you, harmonising.

“The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street café. The last time I saw Paris, her trees were dressed for spring, and lovers walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing…”

You didn’t look at Bucky as you played, focusing instead on your duet with Thea, but you could feel his eyes on you, sense the shift in his mood.

He was feeling it too. The sadness, the grief, the nostalgia.

“The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, no matter how they change her, I remember her that way!” That line especially, you could hear Thea’s voice break slightly. Adapting your accompaniment, you shifted your left hand from the piano to hold hers for a moment.

As you and Thea finished the song, and you ended with a small flourish on the piano. The applause and sounds of appreciation were more muted, but still enthusiastic.

As you looked between your friends, new and old, and back at your handsome sergeant, there was a warm feeling in your chest.

Groups could sometimes overwhelm you, yes.

But this one here? This one felt like home.

When someone with a legit high quality blog starts following me.:

you're still a writer, even if:

you don't write every day

your books aren't published

you haven't finished your first draft

your stories don't get a lot of interaction

you keep creating new stories instead of finishing them

you aren't as good or skilled at writing as other people might be

you struggle to come up with new ideas

you abandon stories when you get bored of them

you don't want your books to be published

you take long breaks between writing sessions

you only write for fun

you doubt your ability as a writer

you don't create original stories and write fanfiction

you don't know all there is to writing techniques and writing rules

Writing is about writing. It's not a competition of who can reach what first. You still hold value as a writer, regardless of what your progress or process looks like. You set your own goals, and it's okay to only do this for fun.

reblog if you support unabashedly smutty fanfic

and the beautiful authors who give it to us.  you are a treasure.