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[coffee-and-quill]

Did this with some watercolors today, first drawing in years! What do you think?

[coffee-and-quill]

Birthday Wishes Pt. 2

Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you

Authors Note: It took a long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Relationships are hard, they are constant work and give/take. It takes communication and understanding for all parties to feel heard and loved. I hope y’all enjoy, and please let me know if there’s anything else you would like to see from me!

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It had been three weeks since Steve had seen you, talked to you, held you in his arms. Three weeks of radio silence, and it was killing him. He and Bucky had gone to your parent’s house the morning after they discovered you were missing. As if they weren’t feeling awful enough, the icy look your mother had given them so different from the warm, caring smile they were used to, sent shockwaves through their chests. Steve had begged to talk to you, but your mother had told them that you had left early that morning. You were going somewhere they couldn’t find you or bother you. When Bucky had tried to get more information, she had slammed the door in their faces.

              It took two more days of searching and desperation to figure out that Tony had helped you go completely off grid. “It’s not my place to tell you where she is, you shouldn’t have fucked up this bad,” the billionaire had told them when they tried to force your location out of him. He wasn’t wrong, and that set a heavy weight on their chests like nothing they had never felt before.

              Steve tried to go back to work, but every time he tried to buckle down and focus, or to accept a mission, he thought of your face. What if you wanted to talk to them? What if you came back and he was so caught up in his work again that he lost you for good? He might have already lost you, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees gasping for breath. He felt small, smaller than he’d ever felt in his life. He would take being a sickly, scrawny kid in the 40s over these feelings any day. It got to the point where Fury told him to go home and not come back until his head was in the game again. “At this rate,” the director had grumbled, “You’re likely to get yourself or someone else seriously hurt if you continue as you are.” Steve didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped home, collapsed on the couch, and sobbed. Pain and heartbreak were the only things he knew anymore.

              Bucky was no better. After the acceptance that there was no finding you until you wanted to be found, the former assassin completely shut down. He barely ate and never slept anymore. How could he when there was the constant reminder that you were no longer in his life, no longer snuggled safely between Steve and him. The nightmares came back full force. He had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Now, instead of visuals of Hydra and the chair, and the blood and death that followed him like a storm, he had nightmare of you telling him you were done with him. You told him with a stone face that you’d never loved him, that you could never love a murderer, and you left with him begging and screaming on the floor. During the day he stayed in bed. He felt useless and weak, so, so weak. He was used to suffering, used to the constant weight of guilt on his chest. But this, this feeling, this guilt was far worse. People are constantly telling him that his actions as the Winter Soldier were not his fault, but this was all on him. There was no scapegoat, no evil organizations pulling the strings, no excuses, no one else to blame but himself. He was the reason you were gone, and it was destroying him.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                Three weeks, and you were feeling like absolute shit. You barely slept, ate only what you could unwrap in seconds, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t showered in at least a week. You couldn’t tell what day it was; time seemed to slip and slide together in a meaningless fuzz in your mind. Most days found you on the small couch of the cabin Tony had so graciously offered you, the TV on a low hum in the background playing some sort of celebrity reality program. Not that you really cared. Nothing really held your interest for long anyway. Your thoughts were stuck back in your apartment with your boys. You kept replaying the better times over and over, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

Back when you first got together, Steve and Bucky had been so sweet, so shy when bringing up the idea, so afraid that you would turn them away and they would lose the best thing that had happened to them since they were reunited. When you told them you wanted to give it a try, they had been ecstatic. Their excitement was infectious, buzzing around you like two overenergized puppies who had just been given the best treats of their lives. Those first few months had been blissful, none of you willing to be parted from the other longer than a day or so. You went on dates, ate crappy Chinese food together, snuggled up to each other on the cold nights.

You were crying again thinking about those times. You missed being with your boys more than ever, missed the connection and the feeling of safety and security. You missed the two people who knew you better than you could ever know yourself. You had been stuck on a loop for the past three weeks. Where did it go wrong? When did it happen and how did you not notice? Was it you? God, if you could only talk to them. You had so many questions, so many concerns. Mostly, however, you just wanted a hug. You just wanted to be held between your Stevie and your Bucky and you wanted to feel loved.

It had been around midday, after shoving down a lukewarm hot pocket, that you heard the front door of the cabin click open.

“Damn,” came the snarky voice of Tony Stark, “You look worse than I did after that one Easter party I threw.” Even through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was your own fault, Stark,” you sassed, “Who the hell takes that many tequila shots at a brunch party?”

The billionaire scoffed. “Obviously you have no sense of danger, babe.” You flipped him the finger. “So,” he said, lifting your feet up so he could make himself comfortable on the cushy couch, “It’s obvious to me and to literally everyone else that something went on between you and the two super stooges back home. And by the way they have been moping around the tower and by the grease buildup in Barnes’ hair, they are fairing about as well as you.”

Your ears perked up at the information. You should feel satisfied that Steve and Bucky were feeling miserable for what they did. You should feel relieved that they are getting a taste of what they put you through. Instead, you just felt your heart sink into your stomach. No matter how angry you were at them, you could never stand the thought of them in pain.

“I’m not saying the two don’t deserve it,” Tony continued, “I’m just saying that if your going to make them suffer, at least do it in a way that you aren’t suffering as well.”

“I don’t want to make them suffer,” came you soft reply.

“No?”

“I was hurt.” The tears that had been gathering in your eye dripped down your face at your watery tone. “I was hurt, and angry, and I just felt like I had to run to escape those feelings, so I came here. But the longer I stayed, the less hurt and angry I felt. And then the sadness and loneliness came and I felt like I was drowning, and all I wanted was to be back with them. But I had already stayed away for so long. What if they don’t want me anymore? Or they think we can fix things? What if they realize they aren’t willing to try, Tony? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a huge breath. “I can’t answer those questions for you, sweetheart. Lord knows if I could take the pain away, I would. But nothing is going to happen with you sitting here and refusing to talk to them.” You nodded, knowing that what he was saying was logical. You couldn’t solve anything by sitting around and moping, and lord knows you won’t solve anything by running away.

You took a deep breath “Ok. I’m ready to come home.”

“Good.” Tony stood up and adjusted his suit. “Because honestly, the boys have start loitering outside my lab looking like a couple of drowned kittens, and it’s depressing everyone.” He held out his hand for you, which you graciously took, standing and hissing out your cramped muscles. Tony took one step towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back. “Maybe you should shower first. You stink like that casserole Clint tried to make for dinner that one time.”

Tony barely dodged the chipped mug thrown at his head.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                When you showed up to the apartment you shared with Bucky and Steve, your nerves had been on fire. Steve had opened the door looking he hadn’t slept since you had seen him last. His eyes widened and his arms twitched towards you instinctively, wanting to wrap you in in them and never let go. He held himself back, though it left a deep ache in his chest to do so. You wanted nothing more to go to him, to card you fingers through his hair and reassure him that everything was fine, that you were here and you would never leave again. You had to clutch the straps of your bag until your knuckles were white to stop yourself.

              “We need to talk.” Your voice was small, fragile. You wanted to run and hide all over again, but you knew this needed to be done. Steve nodded jerkily, widening the door to allow you to enter. Visually, everything looked the same; the couch was in the living room, blankets thrown haphazardly across the back, and the table sat in the kitchen with its three mismatched chairs and well-loved surface. However, as you moved further into the space, you noticed a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t a home anymore, and the thought made you frown deeply.

              Steve closed the door softly behind you. “I’ll go get Bucky,” he murmured, and you shivered. God help you, you were so in love with these men. Even tired and beat down, Steve’s voice still had an effect on you. It reminded you of soft kisses over bare skin in the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake, of tender love and honey sweet words spoken between breathy moans.

              You pushed the memory to the back of your mind as Steve reentered, Bucky following close behind. You felt your breath catch at his appearance. He looked broken. Dark circles fell under lightless eyes, the grief and despair that sat heavy on his shoulders was visible in the hunch he wore, as if he was being physically crushed by its weight. You could have honestly cried if it were a different situation.

              At the sight of you standing in the living room, he cracked a smile that looked almost painful. “Hey, Doll. I missed you,” he rasped. Hi voice was scratchy and rough from crying. Despite the somber tension that hung in the room like mist, you felt a sense of peace wash over you at the presence of your boys. Despite your nerves, despite your fears and reservations, you smiled at them. The tension melted from Bucky and Steve’s shoulders, and you knew everything would be okay. You could do this.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                The three of you spent hours talking. You told them everything: your fear of being left behind and forgotten, your frustrations with always feeling second place to the duties as avengers, the anger of that night and the emotions of the last three weeks. In turn, they shared their guilt and frustration at their own actions. They told you how they felt that being avengers was the only thing they could do to help people, it was the only thing they knew, and they had been scared to deviate from that routine, even when it had started pushing you away. They shared the fear they felt at finding you gone, and the terror and grief that had set in when they realized you might not come back and that was it for the three of you. Finally, they shared their confession that nothing they had done or would ever do as avengers would be more important than you. They wanted to change, to get better. They wanted to do it for you.

              What started as you sitting across from them quickly transitioned into the three of you cuddled together on the couch, seemingly one entity. Weeks of no contact had starved the boys of your touch, and they couldn’t remove themselves from you if they wanted to. Bucky lay across you legs with his head in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You hand was tangled in his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Your other hand was gripped tightly in Steve’s as you leaned back into his broad chest. His blond head rested comfortably on your shoulder, turned inward to whisper his apologies into the exposed skin of your neck. Every once and a while he would leave a lingering kiss there, the skin tingling nonstop from the feel of his lips. You felt more relaxed than you had in weeks. That night you fell asleep in your bed, bracketed by the two most important people in your life. You would be okay.

[coffee-and-quill]

It has been a stressful few weeks with classes and family for me. Today I drew this cat in a teacup in one of my psych classes (because it is absolutely impossible for me to pay attention in class) and I am happy to announce that I'm going to start writing for this page again! If there's anything you would like to see from me, please feel free to let me know!

[coffee-and-quill]

Stress Baking

Stucky x Reader

Summary: The boys had told you it was a simple mission. In and out, no danger involved. How do you react when one Tony Stark reveals that statement to be the very opposite of the truth? More importantly, how do the boys exact their revenge on the billionaire for worrying their girl?

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You both loved and hated Tony Stark. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have known the danger of the mission Bucky and Steve had been on for the past week. That, in it of itself, was a blessing and a curse. Sure, now you knew exactly where they were and what they were doing, but on the other hand, now you were incredibly worried and stressed out, which was not a good thing.

           You trusted your boys, you really did, but they had lied straight to your face. “It’s just a routine recon mission,“ Bucky had said as he kissed you goodbye, “We won’t even need to use our guns!”

           Steve had been more reserved, nodding quietly along with Bucky’s words as he packed their go-bag. She should have recognized his actions as guilt right then, but it was hard to think about anything with Bucky’s constantly wandering hands. So she had smiled, and they had left, and she was content. That was until Tony Stark had shown up at her door with a few shots of tequila flowing through his system. She rolled her eyes and busied herself with grabbing him a glass of water and some toast as he rambled on about Pepper and another fight they had gotten into. It wasn’t your first time dealing with a drunken Tony, and it wouldn’t be your last, so you were unfazed as he continued his rant, until he spit out, “I’m surprised your as calm as you are, what with the Hydra raid going on right now.”

           Suddenly, you felt your heart seize in your chest. “What did you say?” Your voice was trembling.

           Tony suddenly looked very confused, more-so than usual when he was drunk. “Didn’t they tell you? They found a Hydra base connected to the Winter Soldier program. They demanded they handle the raid on their own, against my brilliant advice of course. They’ve been fighting for their lives for the past week.”  You could barely here him behind the simmering rage currently building in your gut. Oh, you and your lovers were going to have words when they got back in two days, that was for damn sure. You turned to ask Tony more questions when you noticed the soft snoring. Even through the frustration, you smiled. ‘What a dork,’ you thought as you picked up your phone and dialed Pepper’s number.

 ()()()()()

             It was a week after the boys were supposed to return home, and your anger had been reduced to sheer terror at their absence, especially since they missed their checkpoint and have been MIA ever since. The kitchen at the compound looked like a tornado had hit it. You don’t remember when you began baking as a coping mechanism, you only knew that it was the only reason you weren’t having a meltdown in the corner of your room. So far you’d baked ten batches or your famous chocolate chip cookies, seven pies, and were currently kneading the dough for a loaf of bread as if it had killed your mother. Your eyes were glued to your tablet, where an activity tracker for Steve and Bucky sat motionless. Technically you weren’t supposed to have access to such a level of intel, but after you threatened to shove a pencil somewhere very unsavory, Tony relented. Not that it helped much, as the two hadn’t been active since last night, when they were supposed to call from a checkpoint. Your hands shook as you turned the dough out into a greased bowl to proof, moving around the kitchen to prep the ingredients for another batch of cookies.

           As you began mixing, you heard the door to the common room slide open. You assumed it was Nat or Wanda, both of whom had made a habit of checking in on you every few hours since you had started baking, so you continued stirring. They would get the hint and leave. “What, no greeting for your best guys?” The obviously non-female voice made you freeze. Turning slowly, you caught sight of Bucky. He was sporting the traditional smirk which might have made you smile was it not for the black eye and busted lip he was also sporting. Your eyes flitted to Steve, he was smiling softly and leaning heavily on his right leg. Your relief was short lived as the anger you had forgotten slowly creeped back up your spine.

           Placing your hand on your hips you sent a glare towards the two, “You’re a week late, boys.”

           The smirk fell from Bucky’s lips. “Sorry, Doll. The recon ran into some trouble, some pissy drug dealers with-,” you held up a hand to stop his ramble and turned your head to Steve.

           “Would you like to try again? Only the truth this time.”

           Steve sighed as he stepped forward. “Who told you?” His voice was hoarse, tired. All he wanted was to hug his girl and sleep for four days.

           “Tony. You know how he likes to talk when he’s drunk.”

           “He likes to talk all the time,” Bucky tried to joke, but was quickly shut down by the look you sent his way.

           “Sweetheart,” Steve caught your attention, “I’m sorry. I hate lying to you. We didn’t want you to worry. We know how you get.” He gestured to the kitchen behind you and you felt yourself blush. “We just—we had to do this.” Bucky nodded solemnly.

           You sighed and pushed away from the counter. You stepped into Steve’s awaiting arms, the tension of the last week melting off your shoulders as his hands stroked up you back. “I thought,” you said, “we agreed on honesty. No more lying. I love you, both of you, worry just comes with the territory.” You placed your hand on Steve’s cheek, stroking along the stubble. “Please, no more lying.” You were begging, but you needed them to understand. Steve let out a breath and nodded, then his lips found yours. The kiss was short and sweet, a promise. He let you go and you stepped over to Bucky, who smiled and scooped you up in a longer, more intense kiss. He was always competitive.

           As he set you back down on your feet, you heard him hiss. You looked between the two of them. “Did you even go to the infirmary before coming to find me?” The two soldiers had the decency at least look guilty. You sighed before pulling them out of the kitchen. What devoted idiots you had.

 ()()()()()

             It was later that evening when the soldiers got their revenge on Tony Stark. He was sitting in the lounge chatting with Sam and Clint, both of whom sat with a plate of your cookies in hand and were munching happily. Who were they to turn down free stress cookies. It was cold outside, the snow falling steadily, all was quiet. No one even heard them enter. They were silent, deadly, hunting their prey. Tony was sat in an armchair, laughing along with something Sam had said when—

           WHAM! His head snapped forward so sharply that it startled the two avengers in front of him. Cold snow dripped from the back of his head, sliding onto his expensive Prada suit. He turned his head, finally noticing the giggling super soldiers, each with a handful of snowballs in their arms. He didn’t have time to process before another one was flying at his face. Sam and Clint were yelling, shielding their cookies as they ran from the room. Snow and ice was flying, Tony was cussing, and Bucky was pretty sure this was the best day of his life.

[coffee-and-quill]

Birthday Wishes

Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you

Warnings: Angst, Bucky and Steve being adorable morons

_ _ _ _ _

It had been months since you spent any quality, romantic time with your boys. Months since you had woken up cuddled between them, months since they had eaten dinner with you or even gotten home before you fell asleep. Furthermore, it had been months since you had had any intimate sex, nothing more than a quick fuck before rushing off for work. You tried so hard not to get upset. They were superheroes after all; the great Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the Captain and the Soldier. Villains didn’t stop being villains just because you were feeling a little neglected.

           So you shut your mouth. You gave them polite smiles when they said they would have to stay late, you packaged up the dinners you made with love every night, you gave them quick kisses and declarations of love in the morning, and you hoped that things would slow down eventually. Life has a way, you figured out, of really taking the piss out of all of your hopes and dreams.

           You had told Steve and Bucky at least 50 times over the last three days that you needed them here on Saturday. You sent them texts, put notes up on the fridge, and even called Tony to explain the situation. They had missed Thanksgiving, they had missed Christmas, they had missed Valentines Day, they were not going to miss your birthday. You didn’t want anything but a full day of attention from the two men who you loved the most.

           Yet when you woke up that Saturday, your bed was cold. There was a not on the dresser from Steve saying that something important had come up and that he and Bucky would be back before dinner. You tried to hold back the feeling of dread. You told yourself that a romantic dinner with your loves was more than what you had gotten in a while, and that it was better than nothing. You might even be able to indulge in some well needed release with the two afterwards. So you sighed and began going about the preparations for that night.

           A feeling of peace came over you as you sipped your coffee and took out the ingredients for your cake. You had made one on every birthday you had shared with the boys. It was a favorite of all of yours: chocolate devil’s cake with rich ganache frosting and raspberry filling. You still remember the sinful moan that Bucky had let out when he first tried it on his birthday. You had almost creamed your panties on the spot. You smiled at the memory and continued to prep the ingredients, swaying your hips to the soft music playing. It was almost muscle memory at this point. When the cake was in the oven, you prepped the food for dinner. It was one of Steve’s mother’s recipes, rescued from the Smithsonian last year. You lived for the look of nostalgic glee that he got on his face whenever he came home to this meal. It made your heart soar.

           As the day wore on, you got more and more frustrated. You had gotten calls from your family, friends, even Tony had called to wish you a happy birthday, but you still hadn’t heard from your boys. It was getting later, closer to the time they would get off. You figured they wanted to surprise you. So you went upstairs, showered, and put on your favorite dress: a sleek, satin, red number that always made Steve and Bucky’s eyes grow dark. After, you set the table, placing the roses you had picked up yesterday into a crystal vase and lighting a few candles. You poured three glasses of the fancy wine you kept for special occasions and sat down to wait.

           By the time the clock rolled around to 9, you knew they weren’t coming. You had already drank half the wine and were feeling very, very pissed. You picked up your phone, hands shaking and tears on the edge of you eyes. The dial rang twice before Steve picked up.

           “Hey, sweetheart! Sorry, I didn’t realize the time. What’s up?” his voice was far too chipper, and it made you sick.

           “Where are you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

           “We got caught up with something, there is a lot of paperwork. It looks like me and Buck will have to spend the night.”

           “I told you that I needed you today, Stevie.” You wanted to throw up.

           “I know sweetheart, but can we postpone? Maybe we can have date night next weekend?”

           You were crying now. Your breaths were coming in short bursts, and your heart felt like ice; a cold, heavy weight sitting in the middle of your chest making it impossible to breathe.

           Steve’s voice cut through, “Is everything alright sweetheart? Did something happen?” You could hear Bucky in the background, clearly recognizing the worry in his boyfriend’s voice. They had forgotten. You had been together for so long, and they had forgotten. You hung up without answering his question.

           The room was spinning. Everywhere you looked you saw the remnants of your life with the soldiers. Bucky’s work boots standing by the door, Steve’s favorite book on the coffee table, your mugs set up on the counter together. It was mocking you. You stumbled up to your shared room, ignoring the ringing of your phone downstairs. You didn’t want to think, you just wanted out, away from the pain, away from the reality of your loneliness. You threw some clothes in a duffle and left. You didn’t take your phone. You didn’t want to talk or be found. You could barely see as you drove, tears running down your face and smearing your makeup.

           Your mom didn’t ask any questions when she opened the door to find you there, still in your red dress with puffy eyes and a lost look. She opened your arms, and you fell into them and cried.

_ _ _ _ _

 Steve was already starting to panic when you didn’t pick up the third time. He racked his brain trying to figure out what was wrong. Did someone break in? Were you hurt? He vaguely remembered something about you asking them to take the day off, but it was lost in the panic of the attack. Some new recruits had returned from a scout to reveal information on three new Hydra bases that they hadn’t even known about. There was paperwork, lots of it, and plans that needed to be drawn up, teams that needed to be assigned. All of that seemed small at the thought of you hurt.

Bucky was pacing nervously. “Did she say anything else? Anything at all?” he asked, biting his lip.

“No,” Steve responded, “She hung up without answering.” The two super soldier were too preoccupied to notice Tony had entered. The billionaire eyed the men curious.

“I’m surprised you two aren’t home yet. I’d assume you’d had some grand plans for your girl’s birthday,” he said smirking. The words hit Steve like a bucket of ice water. He looked over, seeing Bucky with the same expression of shock, guilt, and fear.

Tony looked back and forth between them, and his cocky expression fell. “Don’t tell me-,” he didn’t finish. The boys were out of the room before he could, sprinting as fast as they could down the hall.

_ _ _ _ _

             The door swung open, nearly punching a hole in the wall as Steve and Bucky heaved through the door. One look told them all they needed to know. Steve walked up to the table, a gorgeous dinner lying cold on the plate and an empty bottle of wine next to two full cups and an empty one. The candles were burnt out and the roses had been knocked over. As he went further, his breath caught in his throat. The cake, so beautiful and made with so much love and effort, was smashed, and next to it on the counter was the promised ring he and Bucky had given you two years ago. A wretched noise left his throat as he sank to his knees.

           Bucky wasn’t fairing any better. His eyes scanned the room with military precision, but inside was a panic like nothing he had ever felt before. As Steve cried on the floor, he rushed past him and up the stairs to their bedroom, hoping to whatever god was out there that you were still here. He knew before he stepped in the room that his prayers were unanswered. The closet was open and your travel duffel was gone. Your toiletries which had so long held the place between his and Steve’s were missing, leaving a gaping hole on the counter that he could feel down to his soul. A cold feeling began to creep through him, starting deep in his chest and spreading outward. It was painful and heavy and dark, and Bucky hated it. He would take Hydra any day over this. What made it worse was he knew it was his fault, he knew and he could do nothing to fix it. You were gone.

           He trudged back downstairs where Steve sat motionless, still on the kitchen floor, clutching your ring like a lifeline. He slumped into one of the table seats, where he noticed your phone, abandoned and out of battery.

           “What are we going to do?” he asked, voice hoarse with emotion.

           Steve looked over, tearing up again. “I don’t know.,” he whispered. Bucky felt his heart sink even deeper.