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#it's sad that bucky has short hair in TFATWS
couragemydearheart · 1 year
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༄ ‧₊˚ 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧.
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# 01 — bucky barnes x fem! reader # 02 — cw: not related to the events of tfatws, hurt-comfort, fluff, sad bucky :( # 03 — wc: 1k # 04 — first marvel post y'all! likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! ♡
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another nightmare yet again. it steals the peace of his mind along with his sleep, leaving his heart hammering in its cage as he tries to process his surroundings. bucky shoots up from the bed shaking, the threat of tears burning his eyes, and leaves the bed and the comfort of your arms in favour of the cold bathroom and the reminders of the stone-cold killer from his past.
he brings up your voice from his memories, reassurances of you’re not him james, that was not you in your soft voice soothing him and he forces himself to believe it. running his hands through his short hair, he paces his breaths until he feels he is not suffocating anymore. he was getting better at this ever since he’d met you. face yourself, he thinks, you are not him. 
he takes a deep breath before flicking his bloodshot eyes upward to the mirror at the bathroom sink. his grip—both flesh and vibranium—tightens on the granite counter at the sight and bucky wastes no time in averting his gaze, his stomach dropping at the sight of the heinous scars marring his left shoulder. they were by no means new to him but the marks never failed to remind him of his dark past, the sight of them never failed to fuck his mood for the rest of the day, filling him with anger and hatred.
he runs a hand down his face, sighing raggedly and promptly freezes in place when standing behind him, leaning against the door frame, he finds you.
your sleepy eyes regard him as they always do— honestly. genuine concern and affection for him shine in your expression while he fights to keep simple eye contact.
“hey you,” you speak finally, realizing that he isn’t going to speak first. you sound so tired and guilt shoots through him like a bullet.
bucky knows he isn’t the easiest person to be with—especially now as he is still readjusting to the modern world with his nightmares still constant— but if there is anyone who never gives up on helping and supporting and loving him without expecting anything in return, it is you. and then the images of his nightmares and his reflection in the mirror flash in his mind, his scars, and he suddenly wonders, why do you stay?
but then your warm body is pressing up against his bare back and he exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “sorry sweetheart,” he manages to croak out finally, body still tense. “didn’t mean to wake you up.”
you wave him off, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “you didn’t. i always know when you’re not in bed anymore.” he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t know what to say to something like that.
he sighs, “you don’t have to wake up every time i do, you know that right?”
“yeah, you’ve made it clear with the way you never wake me up even when i’ve told you to.” it’s not a jab at him, and bucky knows it. 
you tug on his hand, pulling him back to the bedroom and onto the bed. you both lie on your sides, just barely touching until bucky tangles his sweatpant-clad legs with your bare ones and his hands fiddle with the hem of the huge t-shirt of his that you’ve stolen in favor of your own nightwear. you stay silent, letting him gather his thoughts as you wrap an arm around his neck, the other going on his left shoulder. 
he tenses, and the downturn of your lips lets him know that you’ve understood what had been going on in his mind. your eyes soften, not with the pity that he hates so much, but so much love and sadness that he has to bite his lower lip to keep it from trembling.
you cradle his face, bringing it up to face you. “james,” you begin, “talk to me, darling.” 
“i just- i know you've been working longer and i know you’re tired, so i- i don’t want to add to all that, y/n/n. you already do so much-”
“james,” you swiftly cut him off, “james, you are not adding to any of my problems, alright? you are not a burden. get this in your head. you are literally the best part of my day.”
he meets your eyes finally and the pain, the longing in his blue-gray eyes to believe you, are clear for you to see. “thank you,” he sniffles, and you tilt your head in genuine confusion.
he tugs you closer to him and cups your face, pressing his forehead to yours. “thank you for staying. you know you didn’t have to, but- but you still did. and i’m so grateful to you for it.”
your eyes soften, and he watches with pure awe in his eyes as you press a kiss to the palm of his metal hand. “you have been strong for too long on your own, you know. you don’t have to anymore. you have me now. we will get through this together.”
he manages a shaky, watery smile before he presses his face to the crook of your neck. you pull him on top of you, running your fingers through his cropped hair, smiling into his shoulder before pressing a kiss to the skin. he lies there in the warmth of your embrace, giving himself a respite from his mind. a few moments more in your little cocoon of heaven and bucky pulls away just enough to see your face. 
“you are the light of my life, y/n.”
you scrunch your nose adorably at his corny yet genuine words like he hoped you would, and he darts forward to press a kiss to it. you giggle— the sound like sunshine itself, before pulling him into a kiss and he grins into it, knowing that no matter how much his demons threaten to pull him under, you would always be there to pull him back up. 
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lokidanthea · 4 years
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Bucky petting Loki's hair. And Loki pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it. And Bucky knows.
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from-the-clouds · 3 years
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Kiss Me More - Zemo/Reader
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Masterlist | Part Two 
Summary: Reader works with Sam & Bucky and has a moment alone with Zemo upon their arrival in Riga. Loosely inspired by this song. 
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, minor TFATWS spoilers.
A/N: As if you couldn’t tell already when it comes to what characters I love to write for, I love a bad boy. This was meant to be a short, sweet fic and then I had to get all existential and invent an entire storyline around these two. I think there’s definitely room here for a multiple parts, if you’re interested. Let me know what you think!
----
“I’m going for a walk.”
Y/N didn’t argue with Bucky as he walked away stiffly. With anyone else, she would’ve been suspicious, but she knew Bucky well enough to know it was in her best interest to ignore any of his cryptic behavior. At the end of the day, she knew she could trust him. 
Zemo’s flat was spacious and beautiful, and she wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious but minimalist decorating. Zemo excused himself into the bathroom to shower and freshen up. Sam eyed him wearily, but didn’t seem too concerned. Y/N sat down on a couch she guessed cost thrice as much as she paid monthly in rent.
“I’m going to grab some grub, want anything?” Sam asked after only a few moments of pacing around the apartment, seemingly checking to see if they were being set up. 
Y/N shook her head no, the constant traveling over the past few days hadn’t been great for her appetite. 
“Will you keep an eye on him?” Sam said, flicking his eyes in the direction of the bathroom, where she heard the patter of the shower running steadily.
“Of course,” she answered. Zemo had a reputation, she’d seen it herself. But she didn’t know him to the same extent that Bucky and Sam did. So far, he’d only been polite to her so she wasn’t exactly scared or intimidated about any sort of confrontation.
Plus, she was only here as a favor to her friends. She was hardly talented or important enough to be an Avenger. Bucky and Sam knew they could call her if they were in a pinch. And right now, they were definitely in a pinch. 
Picking up a book of photography from the coffee table in front of her, she flipped through it absentmindedly, admiring the photos of ornate architecture and crowded city streets before the click of a doorknob caught her attention. Zemo emerged from the bathroom with damp hair in a bathrobe, slinging a towel over his shoulder and immediately making his way towards the kitchen.
Y/N heard the clink of glasses and ice, and she returned her attention to the book. All the traveling was catching up to her, as her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the quiet in the room allowed her body to finally settle.
“Have a drink with me,” she was startled when she realized Zemo was standing over her, a cocktail extended in her direction. Not a question, a command. 
“I’m alright, thank you,” she said flatly. 
“I have to celebrate.”
Sighing, and abandoning the book altogether she closed it, sitting it on the table and crossing her arms, looking up at him.
“Come on, It’s one drink,” he winked, and pressed the cocktail into her hands. Up close, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time, rather than just another means to an end for one of Bucky’s missions. Zemo was good-looking, there was no doubt there. Tall, Dark hair, handsome enough to turn heads, but not so chiseled to be unapproachable. She guessed he was maybe ten years her senior, and while she thought being locked up for so long might’ve taken a toll on anyone, there was no trace of it in his features.
Taking it reluctantly, but still not entirely sold, she raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat down next to her. “All right, what’s the occasion?” she asked.
He lifted his drink, and she sighed, shifting her weight so she was facing him, meeting his eyes and lifting her cocktail so it was level with his. “To being a free man.”
They clinked glasses and she took a sip, the bite of the liquor concealed by a sweet and smooth aftertaste. Whatever he’d made her, it was good. 
“Temporarily,” she added after a moment, watching him take another sip of his drink.
“What?” he asked, turning to face her. 
“You’re only a free man temporarily,” she said. 
“Touche,” he answered, one arm stretching over the back of the couch, his hand nearly touching her shoulder. He gave her a devilish grin. 
A surprising warmth fluttered in her stomach, and she turned away from him to sip her cocktail. She wasn’t ignorant. After all, she was the only woman in the group, she hadn’t missed his lingering glances and once-overs while they were partying in Madripoor. It would’ve been flattering, but she was probably the first woman he’d seen in years. 
They sat in silence for a moment as Zemo leaned back to survey the room. She supposed she hadn’t done a good enough job of appreciating it the first time around, high ceilings, natural light, but just enough privacy to feel cozy and inviting. Another steely sip of liquor passed her lips. She hadn’t had a drink in god only knew how long. 
“Tell me, doesn’t this work get exhausting?” his smooth, accented voice cut through the quiet. “Traveling all the time, getting beat up, the lack of sleep, or a routine, following orders…”
She shrugged, pondering a moment. “It’s not so bad. Plus, it’s not like I know anything else.” When she glanced over at him, his eyes were fixated intently on her, but he was unreadable. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m just doing what’s right.”
“What you think is right,” he corrected, and before she could bite back, finished his thought. “My people, my family. All gone because of what someone with too much power thought was right.” A sadness flickered across his visage, but disappeared as soon as she could register it. 
“I’m sorry,” she rasped, earnest. 
“And I don’t think you’re a monster,” Zemo said, shifting his weight so he was facing her dead on, tilting his head to the side and studying her. Something about his gaze felt sharp, like he could see through her. “You aren’t entirely sold on all this, I can see it in your eyes.”
His words cut deep, deeper than she was willing to admit to anyone, even herself. But what was normal? And could she ever be? “What makes you think that?”
“How often do you get to be selfish?” he asked. His robe gaped open a little at the top, revealing a dainty silver chain necklace clasped around his neck with a small charm dangling from it, pale skin and a smattering of chest hair. “When was the last time you got to sit down, relax, enjoy yourself?”
Glancing down at the drink in her hand, feeling slightly vulnerable, she felt a smiling playing at the edges of her lips. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m enjoying myself right now,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows. “What, can you blame me? Good whiskey, a beautiful woman by my side.”
Her jaw dropped slightly, holding back a smile. Warmth crept like vines up her neck, pooling in her cheeks. “You should be careful,” she warned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
He leaned closer and she could smell the scent of his aftershave, smoke and musk, heat from the shower still radiating off his body. Maybe the whiskey was getting to her. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he lifted the drink to meet his lips, pitching his head back to finish off the liquor before discarding the empty glass on the table in front of them. 
“Would it be so bad if I was?”
Outside, the sun passed behind a cloud, and the room dimmed ever so slightly, casting shadows that caught along Zemo’s cheekbones, his jawline. The waning light made her all the more aware of how the energy in the room had shifted. 
“It’d be unprofessional,” she said, voice low, and he seemed much closer than he’d been before. But he wasn’t the only one closing the gap, she realized she was definitely, inadvertently, meeting him halfway. 
“Oh well,” he said, softly. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her eyes adjusted to the light, and up close, he was mesmerizing, deep brown eyes filled with longing. His gaze made her stomach turn, and she knew she should be disgusted but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than intrigue.
Shaking her head no, she couldn’t find the words to speak. Maybe because she wouldn’t believe any last attempts at protest. Better to save her breath.
The Baron’s hand, cool from the icy glass, rose to cup her cheek, so gentle and tender, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Frozen, all she could do was breathe slowly as her heart raced. “Zemo-” she began weakly.
“Helmut,” he corrected. “Call me Helmut.”
Y/N gave no answer, unable to remember what she had been protesting when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. 
Goosebumps rose along her arms, ears ringing, as he kissed her. The arm he’d been resting on the couch behind her pulled her closer, and her own free hand rose to his neck, letting him take control. 
Her lips parted and his tongue traced her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. He groaned into her mouth, the vibration raising every hair on her body. Oh, she knew it was bad, but she hadn’t felt so desired, so wanted in years. Wandering hands lazily slid down his neck, to his shoulders where her fingers pushed underneath the loose neckline of his robe, palms exploring the broad expanse of his chest. 
Her skin tingled, every exposed surface aching to be touched, explored by him, and maybe he could tell as his hand left her jaw to coast down her torso, all the way to hook behind her knee and pull her leg across his lap, an invitation to straddle him that didn’t go unnoticed, but she’d need time to decide whether or not she was willing to go that far. 
As for exploring, he wasted no time bringing his hand back up her stomach, to hover lightly over the curve of her breast, squeezing gently as to gauge her reaction, a request to continue, and her breath caught in her mouth, her body instinctively pressing against him. His thumb found the peak of her nipple even through the padding of her bra and thin t-shirt. 
Her lips parted from his to let out a breathless moan, and his mouth trailed down her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue and teeth passed over a particularly sensitive spot, which he discovered when she let out a strangled gasp, and doubled down, sucking and grazing over and over until she finally couldn’t bare it any longer and she pulled away. 
Zemo’s face hovered inches from hers, and she wanted to give him some sort of excuse. That this was wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, but she took in his equally unfastidious appearance and decided not to waste her words on something so cliche. He looked utterly breathtaking.
He didn’t move away, just smiled gently. “How does it feel...to do the bad thing?” he teased.
Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that passed her lips, feeling lightheaded and giddy. “Not so bad at all,” She should’ve been enraged, she should’ve wretched herself out of his arms, but she was engulfed in his scent and his comforting presence, unwilling to leave. It wasn’t so terrible to be selfish. It was her who closed the gap between them again.
He smiled against her lips, hand returning to hook behind her knee once more, and this time she obliged, shifting her weight so she could straddle his lap and his hands met both sides of her hips as she cupped his face, fingers in his hair on his shoulders, kissing him with unbridled passion. 
She could feel his excitement through the fabric of the robe, and knew she was getting carried away, but every nerve in her body smarted for contact. He was impossibly warm and she couldn’t get enough of it. Rolling her hips forward to tease him, he let out a groan and arched upward. “Oh, liebling, I wish we had more time.”
As if on cue, she heard the scratching of the key in the front doorway, and was immediately jolted from her reverie. Before she knew it she was off the couch and halfway across the room, just as Bucky entered, looking perturbed as always. 
“Hey,” she said, turning her back to him and pretending to look out the window, voice unsteady. She heard Helmut clear his throat and shift his weight on the couch. 
Busying herself in the kitchen, she let the curtain of her hair fall over the side of her face, hiding her clearly flustered appearance, her face was still impossibly warm, her skin sensitive, lips swollen. “How was your walk?” 
“Fine,” Bucky said, and she heard him walking towards her as she absentmindedly pretended to wipe down the countertops. When he brushed past her to use the sink she jumped, finally looking him in the eyes. Bucky frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked. 
Staring back at him for a moment she nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”
“You just seem a little jumpy.”
“There was a spider,” the lie came out so easily, so quickly, that she was actually ashamed of it. “It was big and I….I don’t know where it went.”
Bucky snorted, and whether he believed her or not, didn’t respond. “Where’s Sam?” he asked. 
“Out getting dinner,” she said, feeling her heart rate begin to turn back to normal. Bucky washed his hands and shook the excess water off in the basin.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to lie down,” she said after a moment. “The jetlag is catching up to me.”
She turned around and left Bucky in the kitchen, returning to the lounge area where Zemo turned to look over his shoulder. “Allow me to show you to the guest bedroom,” he said, an ornery sparkle in his eyes. 
“Fine,” she said flatly, wondering what exactly he was planning and just intrigued enough to resist an argument.
The bedroom was just out of Bucky’s earshot, down a short hallway. As she stepped over the threshold to the awaiting large, inviting bed, a hand on her waist halted her in her tracks. 
“I’m not finished with you,” she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses once more. It took a great deal of control to pull herself away from him, as she turned around and grabbed the doorknob, dragging it towards her. “We’ll see about that,” she said quietly, shutting the door in his face and letting out an exhausted breath. She’d awakened a monster, and now she had no idea what to do about it.
---
PART II out now!
If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please let me know!
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nev3rfound · 3 years
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option two : b.b
after nightmares continue to haunt his nights, bucky knows there’s one person left who could potentially provide some form of comfort, but is she still willing to see him after all this time? (1.5k)
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
5k giveaway celebration 
warnings: angsty, sad bucky, minor spoilers for ep1 of tfatws  requested: nope, just something i’ve been thinking about since ep1 of tfatws
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)
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It felt real, as if he were back there holding the gun with no remorse.
Cold sweat covers Bucky’s body as he pants heavily, feeling the cool tags against his exposed chest rising and falling with his deep breaths that refuse to calm down.
He knew it wasn’t real, it was all in his head. But he knew it happened, even if it was many years ago, he still held the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger.
“It’s not real.” Bucky mutters to himself, glancing up to see the TV silently blaring a football game that he has no interest in, but it proves as a worthy distraction for the time being. “It’s not real.”
Remaining seated on the wooden floorboards with a blanket draped over his lap, Bucky glances over to his phone knowing there are two possible options ahead of him.
A sigh ghosts his lips as he stares at the contact list consisting of five names, only one having been used in the last week, well, month.
“James, you’ve got less than ten contacts in this phone and I’m the only person you’ve called all week.” Doctor Raynor sighs once more as she reaches for her notebook, not caring about the look of disdain crossing Bucky’s expression.
“It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to call.” Bucky shrugs it off, hearing her pen pause on the paper.
“Well, you’ve been avoiding messages from Sam for a start,”
“He doesn’t count.” Bucky remarks, hearing another quieter sigh leave her lips.
“Okay, then when was the last time you spoke to her, huh?” She counters, noticing his tense form relax at the mention of you. “Come on, James. If you want to help yourself, you have to keep in touch with those who still care about you.”
“I don’t even know if she does anymore, Doc.” Bucky admits, trying to hold back the sadness in his tone as Raynor closes her notebook.
“You have to try, James.” She reminds him. “Otherwise you’ll never know.”
Swallowing his pride, Bucky presses on the contact and listens as the number rings out. He’s counted the rings endlessly, knowing the hesitation there would be at the other end of the call.
“Hello?” He holds back the desperation clinging to his throat upon hearing someone answer, a loud yawn echoing through the line.
“Bucky?”
“Yeah,” Bucky lowers his head into his metal hand, even if it’s a different arm, it’s still part of the same tormented history. “I, could you come over?” A whisper leaves his lips as silence protrudes. “P,please?”
His ears perk up at the sound of sheets ruffling. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
Before Bucky can say his thanks, the line goes dead and the realisation sinks in; he’s going to see you again.
*
Bucky listens closely, hearing you outside of his apartment. He can hear you knock once softly, and a second time with more confidence.
He knows he should hold back a moment and pretend he hasn’t been hovering beside the front door since you hung up a mere twenty minutes ago, but he can’t help himself.
Unlocking the several locks covering the door, Bucky opens it a sliver, allowing you to slip in.
Keeping your head down, your focus remains on your feet as Bucky closes his front door before turning to you.
“I, I didn’t think you’d come.” Bucky admits quietly, afraid to hear what you have to say in response.
“Well,” You start, now lifting your head up to see him and your sentence falters in your mouth. You can’t deny that he looks worse than you envisioned, even during those late nights and early mornings when he woke up screaming in your arms, he’d never looked so grief-stricken like this.
“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out, following your gaze to his tired eyes, scratches covering his arm from attempting to claw it off in his sleep as sweat still clings to his chest. “it’s not great.”
You scoff under your breath as you follow Bucky through to his small kitchen where he pours you both glasses of water. “That is clearly an understatement.” Accepting the glass, you take the moment to reflect whilst he’s occupied. “How long has this been happening?”
Pausing at the sink, Bucky stares down into his glass of water, remembering the countless nights they attempted to drown him or try shock therapy. And how every time it didn’t work, he remembered it all.
“A while.” He mutters, his grip tightening on the kitchen ledge as his metal hand clenches around the glass, shattering it into the sink.
“James,” You call out, slowly rising from your seat and moving toward him. “I’m right here, you’re here too, alright?”
Standing beside him, you reach out for his hand, easing his grip on the counter until he lets go.
“You’re right here.” You repeat to him as his eyes remain tightly closed, his jaw locked and left hand still clenching the broken glass. “You can let go, Bucky.” The words leave your lips in a whisper as the remainder of the glass drops into the sink, and Bucky turns his body to face yours.
“It wasn’t real,” Bucky tells you weakly. “please tell me it wasn’t real.”
Without thinking twice, you lift your hand to rest it against his cheek and Bucky instantly cradles it with his flesh hand, keeping it in place.
“It wasn’t real, James.” You confidently state as he moves your hand and presses a gentle kiss against it. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” You sigh as you both remain in the dimly lit kitchen, the only movement from Bucky as he turns the tap off.
“Nothings been the same since Steve,” He can’t help but trail off, knowing he doesn’t have to explain himself around you. “and I just couldn’t face it, not with all that history.”
Stepping backwards, you let your hand slip from his as you lean against the counter, crossing your arms. “But what about the rest of us, Bucky? You just stopped answering, after everything we’ve been through.” You try to keep your voice low, remain calm, but after all this time, it’s difficult to not let your feelings get in the way. “I’ve lost all of you. Sam, Wanda, Peter, Clint, Bruce, Thor and now you too.”
“I’m sorry, doll,” Bucky breathes out. “I never meant to hurt you, I, I’ve been making amends.”
Walking past you, Bucky rummages through his bedside table, revealing the well-worn notebook.
“Was that?” You don’t have to finish your question before Bucky nods, flipping through the pages to a series of names scribbled down.
“These are all the people I wronged or hurt or who were affected by the Winter Soldier.” Bucky explains, holding the book out to you.
He watches closely as your eyes scan over the names, flipping through the pages seeing those crossed out or circled or left untouched. Until you see the last name on the list, yours.
“Y/n, I’m truly sorry for leaving you, for causing you any pain.” Bucky begins to explain as you close the notebook, placing it back on the counter out of sight. “I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, for disappearing for months without warning, but I,” Unable to fight his emotions, Bucky cracks.
You reach out as he curls up to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through his body as you hold him close.
“It’s okay,” You shush him as you fall to a sitting position, Bucky curling his head into your lap once more. “we can talk about this in the morning, okay?”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Bucky tenses beneath you before sparing you a glance, allowing you to see those blue eyes, the ones you’ve missed falling asleep beside and waking up to, those same blue eyes that hold so much pain you can’t comprehend.
“No,” You whisper, running your fingers through his short hair, missing how the long ends used to feel against your face in the mornings. “I promise, I won’t go.” You lean back against the cabinets as Bucky begins to relax beneath you, his metal arm outstretched whilst his flesh arm remains around your waist, hugging you close.
“This is real, isn’t it?” Bucky sadly asks, looking out toward the dark hallway of his apartment, seeing nothing besides the faint glare of the tv. “I, I’m not dreaming this again am I?”
The thought breaks your heart as you rest your hand on his shoulder, running your fingers along the faint scar that remains etched into his skin.
“It’s real, Bucky.” You tell him, trying to disguise the cry that is lodged in your throat. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Despite your words of comfort, Bucky closes his eyes uneasily, wondering when he’ll wake up from this dream to the painful reality he truly lives in.
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impactmintsfresh · 2 years
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the baby hairdresser stucky fic is so damn cute🥺🥺 but i raise you this.. how do you think baby would react if bucky cut his hair like in tfatws?
Aw thank you xx
I feel like Bucky wouldn't just cut it without saying anything, knowing how important it has become between the two of them. I think he would talk to her about wanting to cut it more and more, until one day he wakes up from a worse than normal nightmare and Steve helps him cut it while baby sits in his laps and reassures him that she loves him with or without his long hair.
She would be a bit sad and when she's feeling very little she might sometimes run her fingers through his short hair and look a bit disappointed but once she can see how lighter Bucky is without the reminder she is happy he was able to make the decision.
He would though, be a bit grumpy when he watches his baby playing with uncle Loki's hair!
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highdramas · 3 years
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steady now | b.b.
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, mention of death? sort of? mention of the blip mostly, some angst, references to sexxxx babie
word count: 4.3k wowie
summary: bucky is not the only one with amends to make.
note: here’s another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like! i’m extremely proud of this part so i really hope that you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <3
enjoy! <3
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there was once a time where you loved california.
there was once a time where you had a boyfriend with an easy smile and charming demeanor and a family in ventura. his name was felix, and you always told people that he could make anyone fall in love with him with nothing but that stupid smile of him-- of course, you never said how that upset you. you never said how it hurt when the waitress looked at him with dazzling eyes and how he seemed to relish in the attention.
you never voiced how he seemed to eventually bore of the attention that you gave him. you never voiced the way that you wished he would look at you with those dazzling eyes and give you that breezy laughter and that look that said i have you in the palm of my hand.
he did. he didn’t need to give you that look to know that.
sometimes, you wonder if he felt any sort of relief after the blip. you wonder if when you dusted right before him, if he felt like he won in some sick way. of course, you know that he would never admit that. he would never make that known to anyone. maybe even himself. but subconsciously… you wonder if you were simply an accessory that was worn out of convenience, and if your fading from reality was the biggest convenience at all.
it’s sick. you know it’s sick, and likely not true. but still. you wonder.
when you returned, the first thing that you did when you got your hands on a cell phone was call him. you called him and you cried and you said that you were okay, you were here. you asked him what the hell happened. you asked him if it had really been five years.
you heard a voice in the background. it was feminine, light, airy. the voice of a fairy. you’ll never forget hearing that voice. you learned later that she was his fiance.
you’ll never forget the sort of heartbreak that you felt. it was visceral. the knowing-- the knowing that it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything that you did. it was merely the absence of you. you still wonder how long he mourned. you wonder how long it took. you saw him only a handful of times after you returned. he had cried, and you had stared, unsure what to say.
how do you apologize for fading from existence?
that was the first time you saw him. the second was worse.
the second, you were angry. you were angry and you lashed out. what was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into an explosion of tears and fury, the words this isn’t fair and what was i supposed to do? wait for you? and so desperately you had wanted to say yes. you wanted to say that you wished he had held out hope, that he stayed up and dreamt of you and that he was devoted.
it was a selfish thought. he had told you politely to not contact him again.
you had learned that he had moved back to ventura with his fairy girlfriend from some casual facebook stalking. they bought a house on the coast. they’re planning a wedding.. she is beautiful, and you noticed something from the pictures you see of them together right away. he looks at her not like he was charming her, but like she was charming him.
that’s what made you realize he was never yours to begin with.
now, you’re in california again. now, bucky sits beside you and he drives and you control the music. now, he looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky and propped up the moon. and you look at him the same way.
bucky has amends to make, but so do you.
when he reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, you smile. you place your hand over his and you squeeze. you’d insisted that you two rent a convertible, and though he rolled his eyes, he obliged. you drive down the pch and it is april and the sun is warm and inviting but not abrasive. he wears sunglasses and he doesn’t wear the gloves. he wears a short sleeved shirt.
it’s enough to make you smile and lay your hand back against the seat and make you think: everything happened just the way it should.
bucky is here to extend his amends to the chaplin family. well… really, he’s here to set them up with the CIA. they’ve been hydra sympathizers for years.
you, on the other hand, are here to extend amends of your own.
bucky knows. bucky knows and he watched you recall the story with tears blurring your vision. you would hiccup and say, “i’m sorry. i’m not sad over him, not anymore. i’m just sad that i could be forgotten so easily.”
he had held your face in his hands and he swiped at your tears and he said, “you’re impossible to forget.”
at first, when you brought up coming with him, he had been hesitant. his endeavors with the amends and with sam, he tends to like keeping separate. you get it. you know he doesn’t want to put you anywhere near the danger that he encounters, even if that maddens you. but then, your face fell and you held out the wedding invitation that had arrived in your mailbox. “i want to go.”
bucky takes it and he studies it and he clenches his jaw. he looks at you through his lashes. “i’m going with you.”
now, the wedding is in three days. you wonder if he was surprise when you sent in your rsvp marked yes. you were surprised that he invited you at all.
once, you remember him saying to you, “sometimes, you have to extend olive branches. you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
this is your olive branch.
bucky squeezes your thigh and his thumb makes small circles and it instills a calm in you that you haven’t felt since you stepped foot on the plane. he glances over at you. “we don’t have to go.” this isn’t the first time that he’s said this. “we can stay in our hotel all week. i’m sure we can find something to do.”
your jaw drops and you look over at him and he has that smug look on his face. it’s been nice, watching him slip into ease with you. “you are such a pig.”
“i’m just saying, we have options.”
you laugh and you swat his hand away. he grins and he places it on the head rest, his fingers idly playing with a few strands of your hair that blow in the wind as he drives. you pull up to the hotel and you check in and bucky carries all of your bags, which you try to object, but he simply does not care. you fall back onto the mattress and he follows suit and he presses his lips to yours, presses them to your pulse point, your jaw. he whispers against your skin that you are beautiful. he whispers against your skin that you’re an angel.
angel. he always calls you that.
hours pass and you spend most of them beneath bucky, breathless. eventually it is the middle of the night and you have done nothing but fuck and you’ll be the first one to admit that they were hours well spent. he’s propped up on an elbow and he looks down at you, dewy and heavy lidded. “why’d you want to come out here? to the wedding?”
you can’t help but laugh. “that’s what you want to talk about right now?”
he blushes, moves to hide his face, but you beam and you place your hand on the side of his face. you push yourself up and sit criss cross, holding the sheet to your body, facing him. he follows suit.
the two of you do this back home. whether you’re sitting on the living room floor or in bed. it’s easier to talk in the dark, bucky once said. you’d never forgotten. so, this became a sort of unspoken ritual. you would sit with your knees brushing and you would talk and you would laugh and you never wanted this to change.
“i guess i don’t know why i wanted to come.” you reach for his hand and he offers it to you. you run your fingers along the golden grooves, and you swear that you see the hairs on his opposite arm begin to stand up. “i didn’t want to be seen as the bitter ex. i hate-- i hate being perceived. you know? like, i can’t control how anyone views me. i can’t control them thinking i’m crazy or irrational. but… they don’t know anything at all.” bucky’s eyes never leave you. “i wanted to come because i feel like i’m ready to face it. the truth of it. i don’t feel fearful of it all. i used to feel so… gross. gross about how i reacted and how i felt. i felt so selfish. but now…” you can’t help but smile a little bit and you touch the place on his chest where his heart lies in his ribcage. “i’m glad for it. all of it. it’s stupid, but… it brought me here.” you lean your palm into his chest just slightly more. he covers your hand with his and he pulls you in, your hand splayed out on him.
bucky is softening before you. so often you are the one who offers an ear and a comforting touch, but he is happy to repay the favor whenever you need it. “you’re too strong all the time.” his words are definitive, with no room for arguing. “you were hurting. you’re allowed to hurt. you didn’t have a choice in missing out on five years while the world went on without you.”
of course, you know he’s right, but it just feels good to hear it. it feels good to hear it from him. “and he was an asshole.” bucky’s jaw sets. “he had five years to mourn you and your relationship. he barely gave you a month. what sort of guy does that? to a girl he loved?” he shakes his head, as if shaking the thought from his person. “if that were me, i would’ve…”
you watch as he trails off. he looks down and away. you gently take his face and move it up, getting him to look at you again. he gives you this smile that is equal parts sorrow and loving, and you wish you could take away all his pain. “i’d mourn you for life. and i… if i got the chance to have you again? i’d--”
“bucky.” you cut him off smoothly and you shake your head. “that won’t happen.”
he smiles. “i know.” he pushes your hair back and his hand rests on the back of your neck. “i just can’t imagine someone having you and not--” he shakes his head. “he’s a fool.”
gently, your hands lay on his knees and you lean forward. “you asked why i wanted to come,” you whisper, your lips nearly touching his. “i wanted to come because i want to thank him.” you press your lips against his, and his hand goes to splay on your back, pulling you in nearer and nearer. “he recommended the apartment building.”
bucky grins and you connect in every possible place. you roll between the sheets once more and eventually, sleep overtakes you.
the days leading up to the wedding pass by in a relative blur. bucky goes to make his amends and though you offer to come, he shakes his head. “i’ll be quick,” is his promise, and he keeps good on it. he’s gone barely two hours.
you spend time on the beach and sight seeing. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen bucky this… relaxed. yes, he’s always slightly more alert than your average citizen, but you will never fault him for that. you go and get ice cream and you sit on a little bench and bucky stares at you. “what?” you asked and you raise your brows. “something on my face?”
“actually, yes.” he reaches out and swipes your bottom lip, coming back with some strawberry ice cream on his thumb. he pops it into his mouth and it makes your heart plummet to your stomach. “yum.”
you all but drag him back to your hotel.
finally, it is the day of the wedding.
bucky has been ready for hours. he likes unbearably handsome-- you’d gone with him to a shop in new york and had helped him pick out some new slacks and a nice fitting shirt. he had chuckled at the way that the pants hit his ankles and said, “it’s definitely not the forties anymore.”
you had picked out a sage green silk dress, and you smooth it out in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you looked at yourself. bucky approaches you from behind and you’re so stuck in your own head that you hardly notice him until his hands are on you. they go to your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into tense muscles with his thumbs. “you look beautiful, doll.” he leans forward and he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, which makes you smile, because it’s so him. “i wanna kiss you but i don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“i’m a gentleman.”
a smirk works its way onto your face and some of the nervous, fluttering monarchs in your stomach have begun to dissipate. you turn and he gently holds your face, examining it. he opens his mouth to say something, laughs, and closes it. “i don’t even know how…” he clears his throat. you swear that tears prick at his eyes. “i don’t even know how to say how much… how perfect you are. i’ll never be able to say it properly.”
everything about james buchanan barnes makes you melt, and this is no different. you sigh and you lean your body against his, and he holds you ever close. “thank you for coming with me,” you whisper into the skin of his neck. “i needed you here.”
he holds the back of your head carefully. “i’d follow you anywhere, doll.” he pulls back and his hand holds your face, and the vibranium is like a kiss to your cheek. “may i kiss you?”
your lips part and you nod-- and he takes his time kissing you. he kisses you long and tender, making sure that you feel everything. sometimes you think that this is easier than talking for him-- this is the way that he can show you how perfect he finds you. it’s better than any words he could string together.
the ride to the venue is somewhat of a blur. bucky doesn’t take his hand off of you-- it’s constantly holding yours. from the car to the walk inside to taking your seats-- you can feel the eyes that are glued to you, but you can feel bucky’s hand in yours more. you can hear the muffled whispers of gossiping friends and family, but you hear bucky’s murmured complaints louder, and they make you laugh.
felix is at the altar already. he’s talking with a groomsman and he laughs at something and you smile a bit. he looks happy, you think. bucky’s arm is slung across the back of your chair and his fingers trail up and down your shoulder, his eyes fixed on you.
you turn to look at him, too. you lay your hand on his knee and your smile says your thanks over and over and over again. bucky’s eyes flick to the altar, and he sees that you’ve finally been noticed. felix may be looking at you, but you will never know. you are looking at bucky.
the ceremony is pretty. bucky’s bored, you think-- that thought is enough to make you chuckle. felix’s fairy girlfriend is exactly what you gathered from the pictures-- she is energetic and kind, she is sweet and beautiful. the more you think, the more you watch the way that felix looks at her, the lighter you feel.
a part of you had feared that you would never get over him. that you would never get over the what if. possibilities tended to haunt you, but now, being here… you had known for a long time that not only had you gotten over him, you had found something so much better than what you had. but it’s the thought that thrums through you that you were not expecting.
you can see this for yourself. one day. bucky at an altar in a suit, you in white.
you smile to yourself in your seat. bucky looks over at you. you look over at him, just for a moment. your heart feels full.
felix begins his vows. “carly,” he begins and he clears his throat. you can tell that he’s already getting emotional. “never did i once expect to find you. never did i expect to find someone who fit with me so… completely.” you watch as his hands shake as he holds the piece of paper. “but i did. and i’m so lucky it was you.”
his vows go on, and they are beautiful. through it all, you can sense bucky beside you, entirely attentive to you.
the reception is on the beach. the sun is setting, and it is stunning. the food is good and every gives speeches and toasts and you’ve been placed at a table with some friends that both you and felix had known. of course, when shit hit the fan with you and felix, you hadn’t exactly kept in touch, but they’re kind nevertheless. some recognize bucky, and the questions they ask make you cringe. “so… winter soldier,” one of them, kya, begins. “you actually did all of that bad shit?”
it takes everything in you not to lunge across the table. bucky’s hand finds your leg underneath the table, already knowing what you’d like to do. you open your mouth to interject, but bucky cuts you off. “hydra did.” he gives a clipped smile. it leaves no room for discussion.
they ask about the avengers and about thanos, and all of it makes you roll your eyes. they talk to bucky as if he’s a toy rather than a human being. as everyone is mingling, you see the couple beginning to approach your table. everyone cheers and scoops them up into hugs. it makes a part of you sad. not because of him, but because it’s another reminder of how life went on without you.
you and bucky stand and approach them. you can almost feel bucky’s hesitation as he sizes up felix. the protectiveness in his stance makes your heart swell. carly smiles at you, but you can tell that there’s a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “hi!” she says and she looks between you and bucky. “we were both so happy when we got your rsvp. a little surprised, but…”
your eyebrow raises and you look at them. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you place your hand on bucky’s arm. “felix, carly, this is my boyfriend, james. james, felix and carly.”
he shakes their hands and you note the way their eyes flick to the metal one on the other side. bucky and carly begin to make awkward small talk, and you look at felix. he looks at you. there’s something knowing in the stare. “want to take a walk?” he asks, nodding towards the beach.
you nod. felix turns to carly and you turn to bucky, who has a slightly concerned look written on his face. “it’ll be fine.” you lean in and you kiss him, wanting to take any insecurity from him. “play nice, but not too nice. if they say anything stupid, call them on it.”
bucky smirks. “you got it, doll.” he looks to felix and nods to him, and there’s something in bucky’s eyes that must scare him, because you swear felix pales slightly. and then you and felix set off.
for the first part of your walk, both of you are quiet. it’s as if both of you knew that this was inevitable, and now you’re just trying to figure out where to start. both of you begin to talk at the same time, and it causes awkward chuckles to fill the air between you. you stop by a log and you sit, staring out at the ocean. you cross your legs and you look over at him to find his gaze still on the ocean. finally, it moves to you. “i’m sorry.” you both say it at the same time.
a sad smile settles onto your face and you look away. “you first,” he says.”
“i’m sorry.” you look at him again. “i’m not sorry for the way that i felt. i’m not sorry for hurting. but i am sorry that i lashed out. i was… angry.” you suck in a breath. “people who stayed… they’ll always carry the grief and the trauma of those five years. but the people who came back? we came back to a world that had moved on. i can’t… i can’t explain to you how hard that was. it wasn’t just you. i lost everything.” you shake your head. “i took it all out on you. all that hurt. and i’m sorry for that.”
felix nods his head. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t more understanding of what you were going through. that i just… cut you off.” he swallows. “i had five years to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming back. even when you were back, it almost felt… fake. like i was looking at a ghost.” he swallows. “but i missed you. i want you to know that i missed you, and i thought about you.”
a small smile works onto your face. “thanks.” you look towards the crowd, where people are laughing and dancing. “she seems great.”
felix looks over his shoulder. “she is. she keeps me… in check. i can be kind of an asshole. i don’t know how either of you dealt with me.” this makes you laugh and roll your eyes. “you and bucky barnes, huh?”
“i have you to thank for that.” he looks at you in confusion. “the building you recommended me? we were neighbors.” you smile, thinking back on the memory of bucky barnes at your door, asking if you needed help building your cat tower. “he is the best thing that has happened to me,” you say it with no hint of hesitation.
felix smiles. “he looks like he’s crazy about you. he barely looks anywhere else.”
you bite down on your lip. “yeah, i’ve heard that before.” the wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you look at felix and he looks at you. “i’ve spent a lot of time being angry at you. i don’t want to be angry anymore.”
he shakes his head. “i don’t want to either.” he pauses. “maybe… maybe, one day, the four of us could… you know, get dinner or something.”
“yeah,” you nod your head. “one day.” you stand, and he follows suit, and you look up at him. “thank you. for inviting me.”
“thank you for coming.”
there’s a level of awkwardness that rests between you, and you think that perhaps it’s inevitable. but also, you can’t help the sense of relief.
part of you thinks that he’s itching to hug you, and you may be extending some forgiveness tonight, but you’re certainly not there yet. you begin to walk towards the party. “c’mon. you need to go to your bride.”
when you return, you think bucky might be ready to drive his steak knife through his eye. you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bending so that your face is beside his. “miss me?”
he snorts. “you have no idea, doll.”
you watch as felix makes his way to carly, and you meet his eye. he gives you a slight nod and a knowing smile, and you return it.
there’s a weight that’s lifted off of your chest.
“c’mon,” you say to bucky, tugging him up. “we’re going to dance.”
he groans and you laugh, pulling him by the hands to the dance floor. just as you are, you make me feel so young begins to play around you. as you step onto the dance floor, you begin singing the words quietly to him. your dancing slows to a light sway, and in your ear, bucky begins murmuring the words to you.
your eyes flutter shut and a sweeping calm comes over you. “you know… i never thought i would get married. did you?”
bucky’s hands have a firm place on your waist. “i grew up in the forties. of course i thought i was going to get married,” you two spin slightly. “but, after everything… i didn’t think that was ever going to be in the cards for me.”
your breath catches. “and now?”
“now?” bucky asks into your ear. “i can only dream i get lucky enough to have you as my bride.”
your cheeks grow warm. “mrs. barnes…” you lean back to look at him. “has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
the look on bucky’s face, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen that look before. “yes.” his voice is so firm it nearly brings you to your knees. “yes, it does.”
you two slow to a halt and bucky tilts your chin up. “guess i have some work to do,” his lips ghost over yours. “mrs. barnes.”
the world around you stops, and in that moment, it is only you and bucky. it is you and bucky at your ex’s wedding, and there is nowhere else you would want to be.
you’re beginning to understand why bucky likes making amends.
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buckyodinson · 3 years
Text
Warmth (Part 7)
Helmut Zemo x F!Reader
Summary: You speak to Zemo at the Sokovia Memorial.
Word Count: 900~
Warnings: gun, mentions of death and attempted suicide, angst, dialogue between Zemo and Bucky is as it is in the show, so ya know, spoilers for episode 5 of tfatws  
A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the love on this series!! I’ve had so much fun writing it! And I’ve appreciated every single like, comment and reblog! I’ve especially loved reading all your comments! It means so much <3
Find previous parts on my masterlist here!
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As you spot him stood in front of the Sokovian memorial, it’s takes everything in you not to run to him. But you know you can’t. You know what’s about to happen, and you have to stay strong. For him and for yourself.
You stay slightly behind so Zemo doesn’t know you’re there. You know what Bucky plans to do, and if you’re stood there, you know Zemo won’t believe the act with the gun. You can still hear the conversation they have though.
“I thought you’d be here sooner.”
He looks over at Bucky briefly before turning back to the memorial. From this distance you can’t see the moment of sadness on his face when you’re not stood next to Bucky.
“Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”
“Imagine my relief.” Bucky moves the gun in his hand slightly, drawing Zemo’s attention to it.
Zemo turns to face him and steps closer, “The girl has been radicalised beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you... they literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done.”
“Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”
“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Zemo.
Zemo chuckles softly, “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”
Bucky clicks his gun, and you see Zemo flinch slightly. There’s a pause between them, the air thick. Then Bucky lifts the gun up and cocks it, holding it inches from Zemo’s face.
Zemo just nods and smiles at Bucky, and it hurts you to see him accepting death. It makes you remember when he’d tried to shoot himself in Siberia and T’Challa had stopped him. The death of his family had truly broken Helmut, and it broke you to see him like this. You know the gun is empty, but he doesn’t. Bucky pulls the trigger and Zemo flinches, a brief look of disappointment flashes across his face at the realisation the gun isn’t loaded.
Bucky lifts his metal hand and drops a handful of bullets to the floor before stepping away, indicating to you that he’s finished with Zemo and you can approach. You see the Dora Milaje stood a little ways away, preparing to take Zemo to the Raft. This is your moment with him, so you start walking towards him and he turns at the noise of footsteps, assuming it’s his prison escort. But a soft smile begins gracing his features when he sees it’s you. When you reach him, he pulls you into a tight hug, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.
“My love,” he starts, pulling back to look at you, “I’m sorry I left you in Latvia.”
“It’s okay, Helmut. You took your chance. I don’t blame you.” you smiled at him, tears brimming in your eyes.
He pulls away from you and you furrow your eyebrows. He takes his coat off, wrapping it around you tentatively. Your eyes are filled with tears already, but the gesture makes them fall freely. He gestures for you to put it on properly, so you spend a few seconds wrestling your arms into the sleeves before he gently grabs your hands, pulling you against him once more.
“To keep you safe while I can’t.” He simply murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It’s only a short, chaste kiss, but you can feel all his love and passion poured into it.
He pulls away and whispers a sweet “I love you” against your lips.
“I love you too, Helmut.” You try your best to smile at him in your last moments with him. He smiles back at you, and you commit the image to memory.
He takes a step back, “Ladies.” He addresses the approaching Dora Milaje, who look less than pleased at the interaction you’ve just had with Helmut.
He looks back at Bucky, “I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Bucky just nods in response.
“Goodbye, James. Goodbye, schatz.” He smiles at you both before walking away with the Dora Milaje.
You watch him go, and Bucky pulls you into his side, leaning his head atop yours while you silently cry.
“I’m sorry, doll. You know it has to be this way.” Bucky murmurs into your hair.
“I know.”
You stay there and watch until the Dora Milaje’s ship is a small blur in the sky, and Bucky stands there with you. Once you can’t see the ship anymore, then you start to walk back to your car. As you trudge back to it, you put your hands in the coat’s pockets, and feel a scrap of paper in one of them. You carefully remove it from the pocket and unfold it.
I’ll come back for the coat. And for you. However and whenever I can.
Helmut x
You smile at the note, folding it back up and securing it in the pocket once more.
You’ll wait for him. You’re sure he’s scheming something up already, planning his escape. And you’ll be there with open arms once he’s out again.
You just hope you won’t have to be without him for too long.
~
Permanent taglist: @castieltrash1​ @toastytoastbb​
Marvel taglist: @moonstuffsteve​
Zemo taglist:
@noavengers @let-me-read-fanfiction-in-peace @zemodaddy @lulu-yuming @ichigomiluku @multiyfandomgirl40 @gwenebear @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @myeternalsin @moongirl1313 @angiekurosaki @lieutenantn @hibiscusgardenia @plantpottt @whatiswrongwithpeople @writeroutoftime @maldita-insonia @fandomxreaders @loudbluepancake @montypythonsholysnail @bel-13 @ayuoudro @leblubbles @marvelsvision @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e @and-claudia @multifandombtch @sinister-sleep @endorpuff @thanoshadtosnaptwiceforyou @cryinggarbagebag @eristudytime @grifffins @reichelhache @whoreforsamwilson @booksarekindaneat @ajeff855 @sapphiredreamer26 @marvel-trash-bin @tendertales73 @nocturnal-world @buckys-sugardoll @galaxypox @valeskasgf @mochminnie @cheekybluefox @ashamed23 @lonely-ghost-daddy @miranda-paige  @itslilithsstuff @incansas​
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spideeysense · 3 years
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Blurb (1): The day Bucky has to attend a funeral.
A/N: Helloo everyone! This is part of maybe a new series of blurbs I am starting. It'll be short little snippets of Bucky and Reader's life together after returning from the blip (these blurbs will have no relations to other Bucky x Reader stories I write). This first one is, well, quite sad. As always, feedback is always appreciated! I love hearing from y'all!
***SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER***
Warning: Grief, mentions of character death, spoilers for Endgame and TFATWS.
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“Buck,” your voice draws him from his fixed gaze on the wall in front of him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, and give him a gentle kiss on the ear. He takes in a long breath, and exhales shakily.
“It’s time” You murmur softly as you pull yourself away from the duvet and make your way to the bathroom. The door closes behind you with a soft click. Bucky stares at the black suit hung up on the closet door. It’s crisp and clean, and looks far too stiff. He can hear you humming in the shower, and decides to join you. You scrub shampoo softly into his hair, as his gaze is once again lost. Seemingly focused on the turquoise tile of the shower. You know this look. He’s deep in his mind, and you let him be.
Bucky relishes in your soft touch, and closes his eyes. The way your fingernails drag across his scalp and neck, combined with the hot steam of the shower makes him sleepy. And he ever so wants to just crawl back into bed with you and pretend this day doesn’t exist. But he can’t. He has to put on a sleek black suit, and show up to his best friend’s funeral. He has to get up in front of people who he barely knows, and speak about Steve. And then go home and pretend it never happened.
He follows after you once you’re done showering, and sits at the edge of the bed. He watches you dry and style your hair, and slip on a black dress. You make your way over to him and kneel down to meet his eyes.
“I’m going to make us some coffee, okay?” You say softly, and place a gentle hand on his knee. Bucky simply nods.
Again, he’s staring at the suit. The god-awful suit. It stares back at him with contempt and pity. He slides it on easily, and fumbles with tie. Bucky looks at his reflection in the mirror, and he can almost hear Steve say “You clean up nice Buck’” at his wedding. Steve stares back at him from your wedding photo. Bucky is dressed in a pale blue suit, you in a gorgeous white dress, and Steve, clad in a simple beige suit. Bucky remembers Steve telling him "You got yourself a nice girl Buck," in his old, raspy voice. A sharp pang stabs his heart. He’s careful not to cry around you, he’s too prideful, he tells you. But, here, in the solitude of your shared bedroom, he feels tears well up in his eyes, and becomes all too much. He crumbles to the ground in a heap of sadness. The sobs are quiet, yet rack his chest. It feels like a thousand rocks are raining down upon him. His whole body felt numb as he gasped for air.
He could feel your hands guiding his body onto your lap, cradling his head in the crook of your neck. He heard you shush him, and caress his head. “It’s ok,” you whisper and press a kiss to his temple.
He looks up at you with bleary eyes. “It was supposed to be until the end of the line Y/N, until the end of the line.” He whispers.
“I know” You soothe. “I know.”
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just for you, honeybee (6/?)
pairing: steve rogers x reader (platonic), natasha romanoff x reader (platonic), bruce banner x reader (y/n is a big fan of his), tony stark x reader, bucky barnes x reader
warnings: mention of bucky, fighting, training, mention of guns, takes place during The Avengers
words: 3,359
a/n: part 6! i honestly don't know how long this series will be, but i think i may end it at either endgame or TFATWS. so basically going through all the movies lmao, but skipping over a few. i just want honeybee and bucky to be happy but gotta add some angst.
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Transitioning into a new world, the year of 2011, was no easy feat, and you appreciated Director Fury being somewhat patient and honest about how much has changed. Him, and apparently one of your biggest ‘fans,’ Phil Coulson, have been the most helpful with your adjustment, teaching you all about the new technology and supplying you with a new phone, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.
However, along the way, were a few speedbumps. You and Steve trained consistently in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gym, almost leaving no room for sleep or taking proper care of yourselves. You both knew it was terrible, you should be looking out for one another, but the loss and confusion overran your needs to live a normal life. However, over time, he seemed to adjust better than you, as expected. Even though Steve had only been awake a few months before you, he jumped right back into the new world.
For you and Steve, the both of you had seen Bucky a few weeks ago; you had seen Steve a few minutes ago, from the time you had woken up. To everyone else in the world, including Steve, however, that was history, a moment written in textbooks ages ago; and for Captain Rogers, that moment was months ago.
In your mind, you deserved to release your anger out on some punching bags.
It had taken Director Fury and Agent Coulson a while until they shared the news to you and Steve, that Peggy was alive. They had claimed that since they found Steve, high hopes were in store for finding you, hence saving off on telling him beforehand. Steve had immediately wanted to see her but you hesitated; what would Peggy say to the both of you? How would she react to you both being alive? No matter, Steve had begged you to come along to visit Peg and you caved, giving him some time with her before he called you in.
Peggy’s eyes lit up, “y/n, you’re alive! Sweetheart…”
You smiled, pulling up a chair next to her, “hey, Peggy. How’s the strongest woman alive doin’?”
She sighed, grasping your hand, “better…much better. Howard never stopped looking for you, the both of you. He’d be so happy to see you.”
You sucked in a breath as her eyes turned glossy, “we know, Pegs. We know.”
She held back her tears as she continued, “he had a son, Anthony; just as stubborn but smart as Howard. You’d love him.”
Steve chuckled, “sounds like a handful.”
Peggy laughed before falling into a coughing fit, turning away for a few seconds. After regaining her breath, she turned towards you and Steve, “Steve! Y/N! You – you’re both alive; you came back!”
Steve gave a sad smile as your face fell, “yeah, Peggy, we did…”
Steve’s eyes teared up, “I couldn’t leave my best girl; not when she owes me a dance.”
Over time, the visits to Peggy became too much and you needed to rest. So, with little convincing to Director Fury, you found yourself in a small cabin in Bozeman, Montana, with frequent visits by both Coulson and your new female friend, Natasha Romanoff. At first, you hated the idea of someone visiting you during your time to reflect, but once you realized that she wanted to help you train and become used to your super serum abilities, you appreciated the company.
You barely had any time to adjust to your newfound strength, among other things, and you slowly became grateful that Natasha had joined you over the course of a few months. Sure, sometimes she was so nosy and bossy, waking you up in the ungodly hours of the morning to train, but she had slowly become one of your closest friends.
Honestly, some days it felt as if you just met Natasha the day before:
You stood in Fury’s office, arms crossed, as he stood adjacent to you, Coulson awkwardly standing beside him. “Why are you sending a babysitter to a place where I am supposed to be, oh, I don’t know, relaxing? Reflecting?”
Director Fury grumbled for the umpteenth time, “because, Agent L/N, you never know when the day will come where we will need you and Rogers, along with your special abilities. You are unskilled in hand-in-hand combat, among other areas in defense, and it’d be nice to enhance our agents.”
You uncrossed your arms, still very pissed off, “I don’t want them to visit me every day. That’s my one condition. I need time, Nick; I feel like I haven’t properly…taken everything in. I just want time to myself.”
Phil spoke up beside Fury, “and we respect that, Y/N, we truly do. But we hope you also see where we are coming from. Natasha Romanoff is very skilled in her profession and understands your situation – you’re in good hands.”
“Phil, you’re making me blush,” a female monotonous voice spoke.
Whipping your head around, you were met with a beautiful redhead who definitely seemed like an Agent, someone who meant all business. You’d learn later on that was just a façade.
“I- Y/N L/N, you must be Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out your hand.
Natasha grinned, shaking your hand in hers, “just call me Nat, Agent sounds too formal. I look forward to seeing what that super soldier serum truly did to you.”
Apparently, not too much as she continuously kicked your ass in combat.
Training with Natasha was, well, with your lack of combat, embarrassing. You had your ass handed to you so many times, it was a bit pathetic – but she always told you that you were improving. You used your heightened senses to your advantage, listening to her footsteps and figuring out what move she intended to use next. You hesitated to use your strength at first, but with continued training, you knew Nat could handle it.
With Nat, you also became very skilled in shooting handguns, rifles, the whole nine. Your aim was impeccable and target training was becoming a breeze. The thought of shooting someone terrified you at first, but when Nat reminded you that hesitation could get you killed, you understood – there was no room for mistakes.
During your stay in Montana, you kept in touch with Steve, but only through short texts. He was not thrilled with you leaving him, but he understood where you were coming from; you needed to mourn but also keep busy, careful to not fall into a dark abyss. Fury kept you updated, telling you that he had pushed himself into training continuously and visiting Peggy all he could. You knew seeing Peg was doing Steve no good whatsoever, and your heart ached...but at least he got to see his long love.
Nat had been there when Bucky’s birthday passed, holding you as you cried, unable to leave your bed the day of and a few after. She held you as you yelled at the sky for taking away the most important person in your life, leaving you so alone. She knew you had Steve, but it wasn’t the same – you needed Bucky. But she also knew by letting you cry, your emotions out of your body, you’d feel so much more at peace.
And she was right.
Natasha also told you about Howard's son, Anthony, and from what you saw on the news, that was definitely Howard's kid. Tony was arrogant, self-absorbed, but did what he thought was right. After his declaration of being Iron Man, you followed Tony all over the internet, but hearing first hand from Natasha of the man that Tony was...Howard would be proud. You wished to meet him, you did, but something pulled at your heart, telling you that Tony probably hated you for taking his dad from him, forcing Howard to become obsessed with finding you and Steve and thus, costing him his life.
Natasha told you he might see you in that light, yes, but if you ever got to know Tony, he'd warm up.
You weren’t healed and you still weren’t okay, but you were…better. You hated whatever being there was in the sky for taking your James, but you came to terms with it. But the one thing you were so resentful about was the fact that there was no body, no funeral for him.
Becca hated that, too.
You had visited her in her old age, just like Peggy, and the two of you held hands as you talked about James and Steve – your boys. She had missed you so much, just like she missed Jamie, and she understood your pain the best. She had tried to encourage a search party for him, to have some closure, but the government refused. He was gone, and they couldn’t send more men to find a disfigured body.
You hated thinking about that, what James would look like. It haunted you in your nightmares, waking you up in the wee hours of the morning, his frostbitten body staring right back at you. Phil had found you a morning after such nightmare, sitting on your porch in nothing but an oversized shirt and a blanket around your shoulders, cheeks wet with fresh tears.
You sniffled once more, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, watching as a black car parked into your dirt driveway. The car opened and Phil Coulson emerged, as expected - on time for your monthly visits. Hugging onto the blanket tighter, you shivered against the cold air, hoping Phil would just leave upon noticing your state.
He did the exact opposite.
Phil took off his jacket, resting it upon your shoulders even though you had the blanket. You sniffled, inhaling his scent, and hugged the jacket closer, feeling Phil take a seat next to you on your wooden bench.
"I always found snow to be soft, almost like a cloud, falling down upon it when James and I would make snow angels," you began. A shiver ran down your spine as you continued, "but now, I can't help but think of his body just...plopping onto the ground so roughly that he was hurting, still alive, yelling out for anyone and..."
Phil ran his hand over your head, brushing your hair back, "freezing."
You glanced to Phil, "freezing to...to death. He must've been so scared, I-"
Phil shushed you as the tears formed, "no what if's, y/n. He's safe now - that's what matters most. You're okay, and so is he."
Your bottom lip trembled as you held onto the dog tags, nodding to Phil's words, "you're right, as always."
Phil gave a tight smile, "let's go inside and heat up some milk, 'm getting tired myself." Coulson held your hand for the rest of the night.
Trying to convince yourself to get some closure, you told yourself that the next time you were in Washington D.C., you’d visit the museum and read all about Bucky, all that he had done, and see the amazed looks of citizens who saw him as a hero. Your James Barnes was a hero to so many people, including yourself, and you should be able to celebrate his goodness from when he was alive.
You were going to go the next day until Director Fury knocked on your door at 2:30 in the morning, holding a file labeled “CLASSIFIED.”
You raised an eyebrow, “couldn’t have given me this at a decent time?”
He narrowed his good eye, “it’s urgent, didn’t have time for formalities, your highness.”
With a snort, you grabbed the folder from his hands, “glad you know how to properly address me. What time do we leave?”
Fury tilted his head toward the quinjet, directing your eyes toward Steve who stood alongside Natasha, “once you get dressed, Agent. You’ll have time to look over the file in the jet.”
You weren’t sure why you got dressed so fast; seeing Steve for the first time in about 6 months, finally going on a mission, or just getting some new sense of scenery. Either way, you engulfed Steve in a hug and he laid a hand on the back of your head, “hey, honeybee.”
Your heart ached whenever he called you that, but you figured it was one of the last things he could hold onto Bucky as his dog tags laid against your chest, “hey, Stevie. So, what’s the deal?”
Reading over the file while Nat gave more information about Clint – someone else who you had grown quite close to – you grew confused. You looked to Steve, “the Tesseract. That’s the blue cube that…disintegrated Schmidt, right?”
Steve nodded, “looks like Howard recovered it and it’s been in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hands since, but this guy, Loki, wants something to do with it – Hydra’s secret weapon.”
Fury spoke up from the front of the jet, “that scepter he has, it controls the minds of anyone it touches, including one of my sharpest agents. The Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy – that’s something the world sorely needs. Falls into the wrong hands, well…”
You shook your head, “you shoulda left it in the ocean.”
Silence overtook the quinjet until Phil came over to your seat, sitting beside you, “I’d like you to come along to recruit another member, if you don’t mind.”
You gave a small smile to Phil, “um, yeah, that’s fine. Where we goin’ and who are we recruiting, Coulson?”
Phil seemed a bit nervous as he spared a glance to Nat, who nodded her head, “Tony Stark, Iron Man.”
You sucked in a breath, “Howard’s son? You want me to come along?”
Phil laid his own hand upon yours that rested in your lap, file forgotten about, “I do, and I hope you wouldn’t mind tagging along.”
Holding back your tears, you nodded, “yeah, yeah, I’ll come. When do we leave?”
“Once we land in D.C., we’ll take a quick trip to New York. Easy car ride.”
You squinted your eyes, “isn’t that like, a 6-hour drive?”
Phil gave an uneasy smile, “not with me driving, we’ll be there in 2.”
You chuckled, “as long as I get there alive, I don’t really care how we get there.”
In all honesty, the drive to Stark Tower was relatively calm, save for swerving through traffic and going way too fast for your liking. Once you arrived, you and Phil talked to the impressive AI named JARVIS who told you both that he was informing Mr. Stark of your arrival.
“Impressive Artificial Intelligence,” you whispered to Phil, “definitely Howard's kid.”
Phil was about to respond until JARVIS spoke up, “Mr. Stark is not in, Agent Coulson.”
Your friend pursed his lips together, “please tell Tony that this is urgent and we need to speak. Now.”
Very quickly, Tony ignored your calls until Phil hacked into the system, overriding JARVIS and his protocols. Phil spoke into the phone, pulling you inside the elevator, “Mr. Stark, we need to talk.”
Tony sighed on the other line, “you have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message.”
Phil rolled his eyes, causing you to let out a snort, along with Pepper Potts on the other line, “this is urgent, Tony.”
You and Phil stood in the elevator, about to reach his floor as Tony responded, “then leave it urgently.” Right on cue, the elevator doors opened and Tony held up his glass of champagne, “security breach, it’s on you.”
Tony’s eyes glanced over your figure as you stood beside Phil, Pepper getting up from the floor to greet him, “Phil! Come in. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met yet, Miss?”
You smiled at Pepper, meeting her halfway and shaking her hand, “Agent Y/N L/N, Miss Potts.”
Tony stood beside Pepper, “the infamous Miss America, Cap’s sidekick. How’s S.H.I.E.L.D. treating you? Always annoying you with something, barging in without your knowledge, telling you that you've been asleep for 70 years?”
Phil spoke for you, “I’m afraid we can’t stay. We need you to look this over as soon as possible.”
Tony shook his head, “I don’t like being handed things.”
You let out a chuckle as Pepper took the folder, “that’s fine, because I love to be handed things. So, let’s trade.” With a quick switch of hands, Pepper gave Tony the folder as she handed Phil the glass of champagne, “thank you. Anything for you, Y/N?”
You shook your head, “no thank you, Miss Potts.”
You took a moment to look Tony over. Peggy was not kidding – he looked exactly like Howard, and certainly acted like him, too. They had the same eyes, the same face, and the same attitude; it was almost like looking at a clone of Howard. Your eyes filled with unshed tears but you pushed them back, taking a small breath as Phil continued, “this is not a consultation.”
Pepper’s eyes grew wide, “is this about the Avengers? Which I know nothing about.” She looked guilty once the words slipped.
Tony sighed as he walked away, opening up the folder and looking through it quickly, “the Avengers initiative was scrapped, I thought – and I didn’t even qualify.”
Pepper shrugged, “I didn’t know that, either.”
Tony continued, “apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others.”
You mumbled, “kind of like Howard.” Tony pointed his finger towards you as he nodded, “and she speaks of him!”
Pepper nodded her head, “that I did know,” ignoring his comment towards you.
Phil shifted his weight, “this isn’t about personality profiles anymore.”
Tony grunted, “whatever. Ms. Potts, got a second?”
As the two were talking, screens were lit up of you, Steve, and others fighting, and you stumbled back with a slight gasp, still new to the whole holographic stuff of technology. Phil turned towards you, asking you if you were okay with a look, and you nodded. Pepper looked towards you both and back to Tony, whispering, “maybe while working on this, you can get to know her. Get to know your dad. I’ll take the jet to D.C. tonight. You have homework – a lot of homework.”
The two kissed before Pepper headed your way, “so, any chance you two are driving by LaGuardia?”
Phil nodded, “I can drop you.” Pepper smiled, “fantastic!”
The two began to walk towards the elevator as you looked on at Tony who held a holographic Tesseract in his hand. In that moment, your brain convinced yourself that was Howard, your Howie.
Tony turned towards you, “you joining them or you just gonna stare?”
You took a step back, a frown on your face as you mumbled an apology, meeting Pepper and Phil in the elevator. Pepper turned your way as the doors closed, “I’m sorry about him. When it comes to his dad and you, he gets a bit…”
You finished her sentence, “jealous. He missed out on a lot and I can imagine Howard spent too much time talking about me or Steve instead of him. I understand.”
Pepper gave a tight smile.
In a few short hours, you, Phil, Steve, and a few other S.H.I.E.L.D agents were on your way to the helicarrier, something that only a few of you knew about. You sat next to Steve, looking over Dr. Bruce Banner’s files, examining videos of him as Hulk, and how he was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. You had known about Dr. Banner and honestly, had become one of his fans – when he was in his human form, of course. His works on nuclear physics and gamma radiation greatly interested you and upon reading many of his published articles, you had completely forgotten about his condition. Having the opportunity to meet him in person was certainly one of your dreams and you just knew Bucky was making fun of you for being such a dork.
Phil stood up from his seat, walking towards you and Steve, leaning above you both. Steve looked to Phil, “this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?”
Phil nodded, “after Howard Stark’s death in 1991, Dr. Banner made it his mission to replicate it. A lot of people were. You – you both – were the world’s first superheroes. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”
Steve looked uneasy, “didn’t really go his way, did it?”
Phil shifted his weight as he looked towards you, then to Steve, “not so much. When he’s not that thing, though,” you interrupted him with a glare, “sorry, the Hulk, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking.”
Steve looked to you, confusion written on his face. You shrugged, “a really smart person.”
Silence enveloped the three of you until you nodded to Phil, urging him to continue. Phil seemed all giddy, “I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you officially. I’ve sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping.”
You snorted as Steve nervously smiled at Phil, covering your face as he continued, “I mean, I was present while you were unconscious from the ice.” Steve stood up as you continued laughing, making his way to the front of the jet, “you know, it’s just a huge honor to have you on board this.”
You followed Phil, clapping him on the back as Steve overlooked the ocean, “thank you for that, Phil, truly.”
Steve elbowed you as he mumbled, “I hope we’re the people for the job.”
Phil’s eyes lit up, “oh, you are – you both are, absolutely! We, uh, made some modifications to your suits, by the way.”
You glanced towards Phil – now this was what you missed.
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honeybee taglist:
@clownerlyluv
@ginger-swag-rapunzel
@starkleila
@intothesoul
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callmeluna · 3 years
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Skinny Jeans, Action Figures, and Baby Shark
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Sam Wilson x Reader
Warnings: 18+ Content. “Language!” Mentions of sex. Pranks.
Word Count: 2,578
Square Filled: Playful Relationship
Summary: You, Sam, and boredom are a dangerous combination. No Avenger is safe.
A/N: Written for @star-spangled-bingo SSB 2021. So excited to be participating this year! I wanted to write something different from what I have thus far. The result is a lot more playful and light hearted than anything I’d done before. Guess I was inspired a bit by Sam’s chaotic vibes in the last TFATWS trailer. Also, Endgame didn’t happen, everyone is alive and happy in this one. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.
My SSB Masterlist // My Masterlist
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The mid morning sun filled the common room with a comforting golden glow. You sat on the couch cuddled right up next to Sam, each of you reading different sections of today’s newspaper. You’ve read the same sentence four times now, his scent and warmth causing a distraction. It was one of those rare periods of time at the compound when all is quiet. No missions, no training, nothing to do. The result: you and Sam were bored. When you two were bored, anything could happen.
The thing is, you and Sam were absolutely perfect for each other. Between being Avengers, his volunteer work at the VA, and your after school program volunteer work, you both struggled with idle time. The struggle being you both hated having nothing to do. And when you got as devastatingly bored as you were that day, no one in the compound was safe from the two of you. Yeah, you and Sam were perfect for each other. Two peas in a fucked up, chaotic pod.
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The first time you and Sam decided to mess with someone, Steve was the unfortunate victim. Good ol’ “Language!” Stevie. Everyone liked to give Steve a hard time, because on his days off, he would wear what became known around the compound as his “Old Man Khakis.” The plan was totally innocent— you were just looking out for Steve. You both wanted to help usher him into this time by helping modernize his wardrobe. What better way to start, than to get rid of the Old Fart Pants?
While Steve was away running personal errands, you and Sam “broke into” his room (had a quickie, because why not?), and switched out all his khakis for pair after pair of super fashionable extra skinny jeans. And just for good measure, you took his workout sweats, shorts, and went across the hall and hid all of Bucky’s pants and shorts. Sam even went to the training floor and took all the spare sweats there. You covered all the bases. When Steve returned, he had no options but those damn skinny jeans.
Unfortunately, you and Sam were not aware that this specific evening was kind of an important one. Steve was going on his first date with Sharon. Oops. Things didn’t turn out that bad though. Steve and Sharon are still together anyway. Maybe those skinny jeans had something to do with it— America’s Ass indeed.
The next time the mischievous mood struck, Natasha was the target. She had once brought up how creepy the concept of Elf on a Shelf was. The whole idea of waking up and finding this weird looking doll in the most random and unexpected places would give her chills. That was all that needed to be said.
Sunrise— she was going about her usual morning routine, starting with a splash of cool water on her face to wake herself up. With a stretch and a yawn she walked into her bathroom and flicked on the light. She let out an uncharacteristic yelp at what she saw. There, in her private bathroom, she was greeted by two little guests. Sitting there in the sink, as though it were a little hot tub complete with mini towels and wine glasses, were action figure versions of you and Sam. A bit startling considering it meant at least one of you had been in her room when she was asleep, but otherwise, relatively harmless. “Fucking idiots.” She said with an eye roll and shake of her head. Letting the shock pass, she took the toys out of the sink, tossed them in the trash without a second thought, and continued with her morning.
That afternoon, she had a particularly aggravating training session. (You and Sam had made sure of it.) She was overflowing with frustration and needed a... “release.” Natasha made her way back to her room, locking the door behind her as she entered. She knew just what she needed. Sprawling herself out on the bed, she let herself get comfortable before reaching into the drawer of her nightstand. She looked inside when she couldn’t immediately feel what she was looking for— and there they were again. The mini doppelgängers of you and Sam… cuddled up right next to her vibrator. She screamed into her pillow in frustration, swearing to herself that she was going to kick both your asses the moment she has the opportunity.
With her frustration at dangerously high levels, Nat knew the vibe wasn’t going to do the trick. (And how could she use it without looking at your fucking action figures again?) She needed… more. Natasha ran around the compound searching for Bucky. She discovered him in the kitchen with you and Sam. Her face bright red with pent up tension, she flipped you both off and wordlessly dragged Bucky back to his room.
“Baby, I think Nat might be mad at us.” Sam commented to you in faux shock and concern, pulling a “snort-laugh” out of you.
At the other side of the compound, Natasha and Bucky stumbled into his room as they fumbled with their clothes. They fell onto the bed attached at the mouth, eager and ready to get it! Bucky knew what Nat needed and flipped her over, ready and willing to provide. But before he could, Nat pulled away, her eyes fixed on his nightstand and starting to fill with tears. There, rocking the same position her and Bucky were, were little you and Sam. Though Sam was the one on all fours for some reason.
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You frustratedly slammed the paper you were reading on the coffee table. You looked over to Sam, who seemed to still be preoccupied with an article about the best doughnuts in the city.
“Sammy! I’m dying!!!” You exclaimed as you dramatically lay out across his lap crushing the newspaper that, realistically, only partially had his attention.
“Babe…” he cooed as he ran his fingers through your hair playing along with your dramatics. “You’re not dying.”
“I am though! Save me!” You rolled yourself half off the couch while reaching out to him with the best puppy dog look on your face you could muster. “If you love me, you’ll save me!”
He was used to you being like this. Thank god he still finds it adorable. “Okay, okay, okay! How ‘bout we finally get Old Man Terminator?”
Your eyes widened and you hastily pulled yourself up at what Sam was proposing. “Sammy… Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You wanna get... Barnes?!?”
Sam smirked and nodded knowing you would be thoroughly excited at finally pulling a prank on The Winter Soldier. The two of you had tried to mess with him in the past, but to no avail. Ever since his time in Wakanda, Bucky was different. He was now always, for lack of a better word, chill. It seemed as though nothing bothered the man anymore. And it frustrated the hell out of you and Sam.
“We’ve never been able to get him Sam! He’s either catching us before we get to execute our plan, or our prank just doesn’t hit right and he brushes us off like nothing.”
“That's because, my love, we were thinking too small. Here’s what we do…”
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Bucky made his way to the kitchen after a particularly good night's sleep. While the nightmares no longer plague him as they once had, sleeping through the night still did not come easy to him. So having actually slept well, he felt a celebratory bowl of Lucky Charms was in order. For such a big, badass, super soldier/assassin, the man had an affinity for sugary cereals intended for children. Once in the kitchen, Bucky opened the pantry only to be disappointed. All his boxes of cereal were gone. Instead, in its place were multiple boxes of sugar-free-high-fiber-sad-dry-ass-bland cereal.
And on one of the boxes was a note.
A man your age should really be taking in more fiber. Just looking out for you Bucky Boo! :)
Bucky groaned so loud, he was sure he could be heard throughout the compound. Bucky Boo. God he hated that damn pet name you gave him. It sounds sweet, but whenever you called him that, it was usually joined by some condescending, annoying ass comment, and Sam’s bellowing laughter.
“Relax Bucky Boo, don’t get your taint in a twist!”
“What’s got your balls bobbin’ Bucky Boo?!?”
“Aw Bucky Boo, what’s bumpin’ your bunghole?”
Each one worse than the one before. Each one causing Sam to break out snickering.
Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose at the thought of all the times you used that damn name for him. But he wasn’t going to let you get to him. With a deep breath, he left the kitchen and set out to get a good, cleansing morning run in.
Once outside, he stretched and took in the fresh morning air. This is what he needed. The outdoors, the natural high of the run, and the playlists of his favorite music that Nat helped him put together. As he started around his usual running path, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through to find his workout playlist.
“Fuck me! Seriously?!?” He frustratedly exclaimed.
His playlists were all gone. Replaced by… “Bucky Boo’s Jams?!?”
No! He wasn’t gonna let you two ruin this for him. With a deep breath, he decided to push through. How bad of a playlist could this be? As it turns out, pretty fucking bad.
“Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer”
What sounds like haunted house background noise.
“The Rains of Castamere” from Game of Thrones.
Five tracks in a row of just random ass banjo playing.
And of course, the song produced by the god damned devil himself… “Baby Shark.”
Bucky had been through a lot in his life, but that song, with it’s annoyingly catchy “do do do do do do”— worst fucking thing ever.
He couldn’t do it. That song was the shark that broke the soldier’s back. He headed back to his room with plans to meditate and relax with a nice hot shower. But the moment he stepped into what was supposed to be his safe space, he knew something was wrong. He cautiously moved about the room, knowing the two of you had to have done something. He just had to find what it was. He looked behind doors, in the closet, under the bed, but nothing. Then, the dresser caught his eye. On his dresser, he kept photos and other mementos, and there was something off about them. He stepped closer, his eyes widening at what he saw.
There was a photo of him and Steve by the pool at the last 4th of July/Steve’s birthday bbq. At least that was the photo that was there. Now the photo in that frame was a picture of you and Sam at that same party eating a foot long hot dog “Lady and the Tramp” style.
The drawing Morgan had made for him of the two of them holding hands and in her adorable writing titled “Me and Uncle Bucky,” was replaced by a similar drawing. But in this one, Morgan is laughing at Bucky holding his own detached metal arm and is titled “Me and Uncle Bucky Boo.”
And then there was the collage Nat had made him, photo after photo of special moments in their relationship— every single photo was replaced by photos of you and Sam in a variety of “compromising positions”. (Fully clothed though— you weren’t monsters.) Bucky was in awe at what you two had pulled off. He begrudgingly took note of some of the positions, when he heard the sweet little mewl of someone who always made him feel better.
“Alpine,” he said with a relieved sigh, “C’mere girl.”
When she heard him, she stepped out from where she had been hiding and approached. Bucky’s heart sunk at the sight of her.
Alpine, his baby girl, covered in silvers, greys, and reds. Bucky shook his head in disbelief. She was dressed in a kitty sized Falcon costume, complete with a Red Wing bow on her tail.
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Mischief makes you both horny— then very hungry. The sex part was done, multiple times at that (as Sam always likes to point out). So now it was snack time. What better snack than a giant bowl of sugary cereal?
And that's how Bucky found you and Sam in the common room. Sprawled out on opposite sides of the couch in front of the television, mixing bowl sized portions of milk and Lucky Charms in your laps. He stepped in front of the tv, interrupting your current binge of The Mandalorian. (Sam just loves that Grogu.) But when you saw the look on Bucky’s face, you decided this was even better entertainment. Bucky wore an extremely deep frown, lips pinched shut in frustration. And in his arms, being carried like a baby was Alpine, still in “Falcon mode.”
“Don’t you ever mess with my girl again.”
“What are you talking about Buck?” Sam tilted his head in question.
“Yeah, we haven’t pulled anything on Nat in months.” You laughed and shot a glance at Sam knowing exactly what you were doing, and how much more it was going to annoy Bucky.
“You both know what I’m talking about.” He switched over to a more Winter Soldier-esque tone. “You’ve been warned.”
Bucky was about to leave when you asked, “Hey Bucky Boo, why is she still wearing that? You know you can just... take it off her?”
Bucky hesitated to answer. But knowing you, knowing you were not one to let questions go unanswered, he replied through gritted teeth.
“She won’t let me.”
At that, your eyes bulged and cheeks filled with air trying your best not to cackle in Bucky’s face. Sam was less discrete and was immediately laugh-crying, pointing mockingly at Buck with one hand, and holding his belly with the other, as though he might literally fall apart from laughing so damn hard. The sight of Sam with happy tear stained cheeks broke your resolve and you too were cracking up.
“God I hate you.” Bucky said just before he turned to return to his room, laughter echoing behind him as he walked back down the hallway.
You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or Sam at that moment. And frankly, neither of you cared. It was all in a good day’s work either way.
“Sammy,” you called to him with a sing-song tone and a mischievous grin, “How ‘bout tomorrow we mess with Vision and put stickers of his face on the toaster and other appliances around the compound?” At this point, your mind was racing with all kinds of ideas. “Oh! Clint is always stealing my Oreos. How ‘bout we replace the cream filling with toothpaste! Oooo… better yet, doughnuts filled with Sriracha hot sauce instead of jelly!”
Sam couldn’t help but smile at your chaotic enthusiasm as you continued to plan out pranks.
“Got it!” You clapped your hands together having a sudden epiphany. “We should have sex in Tony’s lab!”
Confused, Sam asked, “Wait, what?!? Why?”
You stopped him, “Oh, it’s not for a prank, it’s just one of the few rooms in this compound we haven’t banged in yet.”
Sam pulled you to him with such love and pride in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. “That’s my girl!”
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reallivegeekgirl · 3 years
Text
StanQuest
Something clicked on in my brain a couple months ago and suddenly Sebastian Stan became the hottest man alive. So I decided to watch everything he’s ever been in. A friend and I called it StanQuest.
Here are my spoiler-free reviews for anyone considering something similar (in inverse chronological order starting with latest works and going back in time. The stars are an overall rating of the work, not of Sebastian’s performance.
This only lists things I could find streaming for free or a price I was willing to pay. It does not count after credits scenes, music videos, or works in which he was uncredited.
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) - TV show - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This started it all. I very much enjoyed it. Good balance of humor and action, heart and heroics. I’ve watched it four times already, and will watch it again. Bucky Barnes is my favorite character of his and this is my favorite story of Bucky's so far. I can’t wait to see what he does next. (And I have a lot to say about how they treat his trauma in this show. I’ve definitely written about it before and may again.)
Monday (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one where he gets naked. If that’s all you’re looking for, enjoy. It was a very realistic portrayal of a relationship between two deeply flawed people. It can get depressing. But hey, penis.
The Devil All the Time (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you think Monday is depressing, this movie says “hold my beer”. But something about it is just captivating. It’s really disturbing, and if you’ve ever been screwed over by American Evangelical Christianity it might be more disturbing. Still, I’ve watched it twice. And as much of a bastard as Lee Bodecker is, he also looks really cuddly. He’s just barely in it.
The Last Full Measure (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - You will cry. A lot. It’s based on a true story. Sebastian plays a man who cares more about his career than this weird quest dumped on his desk by his boss, but changes his mind and his heart as he investigates why a war hero was denied a medal of honor 34 years before. Definitely recommend.
Endings, Beginnings (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - One of two love interests in the complicated life of Shailene Woodley’s Daphne, Sebastian is an adorable mess. The editing is interesting and fresh feeling. Watch it and you’ll see what I mean. Fair amount of sex in this movie, and you see his butt. It’s a very nice butt. I’ve watched this one a few times so far.
Avengers: Endgame (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐ - There is no reason to watch this movie if you’re not familiar with at least most of the rest of the MCU. It plays merry hob with the rules of time travel, and only makes sense if you don’t really think about it. In my opinion, the ending is really freaking stupid comsidering his character’s history, but at least it sets up TFatWS, which was amazing.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2018) - Movie - ⭐ - If you’re into movies that are creepy but also almost nothing happens for most of the movie, this is the one for you. Sebastian is handsome as hell, but also a complete asshole. As fine as he is, I’m not gonna watch this again. I fucking hated it.
Destroyer (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- I had a hard time paying attention to the plot because it seemed like they made this movie just to get Nicole Kidman an Oscar nomination for wearing ugly makeup and playing a complete mess of a person. It’s a fine movie, and all of the performances are good. Sebastian looks surprisingly good with the short hair and goatee. Ultimately, the plot is depressing and the whole movie seems kind of pointless.
Avengers: Infinity War (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Again, no reason to watch this if you aren’t already familiar with all the movies leading up to it. It’s long and the villain looks like Grimace and a California Raisin had an evil baby. The ending made me scream with frustration that I had to wait until the next one came out. Now I just watch them back-to-back if I watch them at all. It’s not a good movie, but it is part of a long-form story that I enjoy in general.
I’m Not Here (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Another depressing one. Told over the course of one man’s terrible life, it’s a sad account of how much your parents can fuck you up. Sebastian portrays the middle part of the man’s life. J.K. Simmons plays the current day part and unreliable narrator.. Do not watch unless you are fully prepared to be sad for a really long time after.
I, Tonya (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- This movie is hilarious. I mean, the true story is insane and really stupid. The spousal abuse is hard to watch, and Sebastian’s mustache in this is a war crime. But the acting is great and it’s a very engaging movie. The parts that aren’t horrifying are pretty funny.
Logan Lucky (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Watch. This. Movie. Sebastian Stan is only in it a little, but it’s a really fun, clever caper/heist movie and everyone in it is fantastic. I don’t want to say anything else about it if you’re going in fresh. I’ll be rewatching this one a lot
Captain America: Civil War (2016) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you ignore how kind of silly the conflict over the Sokovia Accords is, this is a good Marvel movie. Sebastian gets a lot of screen time because Bucky is the more pressing concern/urgent point of contention than the Accords. Bucky is my favorite character of his partly because of this movie.
The Martian (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I’m watching it(again) as I’m typing this. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. Sebastian Stan isn’t in it very much, but he’s very cute and so is his little story arc. Mostly I watch it because Ridley Scott made a fantastic movie. If you can get your hands on the Blu-Ray, it comes with a ton of extras. They made a very complete story that isn’t all seen in the movie. A lot of it is stuff about Mars, but there are also extra “crew” interviews, so there’s another chance to see more of Sebastian’s character.
Ricki and the Flash (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - He’s not in this very much, but he’s very cute when he does appear. It’s all about the relationship between Ricki and her daughter. Definitely rewatchable. Meryl Streep is fantastic, because she’s Meryl Streep.
The Bronze (2015) - Movie - ⭐ - This is not a good movie. It’s about Olympic gymnastics, so it might be slightly more interesting right now while the Olympics are happening. Sebastian isn’t in it a lot, but his performance is certainly… memorable. Weirdest sex scene I’ve ever seen. Worth watching just for that.
Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one I can watch over and over. I bought a Winter Soldier face mask for when I need to feel like a badass. Bucky’s story is really sad, but he’s also extremely sexy with the metal arm and determined walk.
Once Upon a Time (2012-2013) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐ - This show is so stupid, but it’s also fun. If you haven’t seen it, the premise is that fairy tale characters are real and live in another land. Snow White’s Evil Queen casts a spell to transport a bunch of them to a town she creates in Maine called Storybrooke, and gives them all fake memories so she can be mayor and watch them all not remember who they are. Sebastian plays Jefferson, a.k.a. The Mad Hatter. He’s in a few episodes in season 1 and 2, and doesn’t get a ton of screen time, but he’s really cute and tragic as Jefferson. It probably helps to watch the whole first season just to understand his episodes, but that’s up to your tolerance for weird shit. Note: IMDB says he’s in an episode uncredited, but I’ve watched it and didn’t see him anywhere in that one.
Labyrinth (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐ - Two episodes that tell a complete story. Sebastian isn’t in this one a whole lot, but he is adorable. It’s a strange story about religious stuff and a sort of Holy Grail that’s three books. It’s hard to describe. It’s on Amazon Prime right now, but they’re taking it down August 8, 2021, so watch it while you can.
The Apparition (2012) - Movie - ⭐ - If you like horror movies, you might like this. I did not. From what I understand, it’s not a very good horror movie. Watch with caution and expect it to suck.
Political Animals (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I had to buy this through Apple and watch it on a Mac, but it was worth it. Sebastian plays TJ Hammond, the out gay son of a former American president who is clearly based on Bill Clinton. Sigorney Weaver plays the former first lady and current secretary of state. TJ struggles with addiction and relationship problems. His performance is heart-wrenching. The whole show is pretty great. I wish there was more of it.
Gone (2012) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - More of a psychological thriller than a horror movie. Sebastian has a small amount of screen time as the worried boyfriend. Amanda Seyfried is good. She carries the film well on her own.
Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you haven’t seen this yet, I’d like to know what it’s like under your rock. This is a movie I can rewatch a lot, and have. I 100% cried in the theater. Sebastian looks fantastic in uniform as Bucky Barnes. This is his introduction and the start of his ultimately tragic story (before he’s saved by his best friend, again).
Black Swan (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Sebastian is barely in this. He’s basically just in one scene in a dance club. But I watched it to try to complete StanQuest, and I had seen it before. It’s a good movie, but might induce some nightmares, depending on what scares you. If Natalie Portman didn’t at least get a nomination for an award she was robbed.
Gossip Girl (2007-2010) - TV Show - ⭐⭐ - Carter Baizen is a little shit. The episodes with Sebastian in them might have made more sense if I watched the show from the beginning, but I didn’t want to. His character is an asshole, but a very cute one.
Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- The people who made this movie are bad at math, and their rules of time travel are sketchy at best, but it is funny and entertaining. Sebastian plays a ski patrol bro who’s paranoid about the Russians, which is hilarious irony to me. Worth watching if you want to laugh at something dumb.
Kings (2009) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐- Sebastian plays Jack Benjamin, the closeted gay son of the king of a fictional place. It’s loosely based on the David and Goliath story from the Bible. Sebastian is so sad and so gay. His family makes his life a living hell. Ian McShane is a force of nature in this. It’s only one season. I’ve watched it twice. I will watch it again.
Spread (2009) - Movie - no stars - This movie was practically unwatchable. It stars Ashton Kutcher and Anne Heche as a romantic couple, I guess? I ended up just skipping to Sebastian’s scenes and only watching those. Still painful.
The Covenant (2006) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This movie is so fuckig stupid, and I will watch it a ridiculous number of times. It’s about magic and teenagers, like The Craft for boys. Nothing about it makes sense. It’s terrible, almost irredeemable, but an evil Sebastian with magic powers is a siren song that will make me steer my boat right into the rocks.
And there you have it. There are a bunch of earlier things on IMDB that I just can’t find or don’t want to pay to rent. Maybe some day I’ll watch them and add them to this list.
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olivemac · 3 years
Text
1300 miles | chapter 3 | b.b.
Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.
Time Frame | post-TFATWS
Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc
Rating | explicit
Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, very very slight dom!Bucky, slight praise kink, very slight somnophilia], angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI
Tag | @mrs--barnes
A/N | Decided to go pure filth and fantasy for chapter three. Enjoy. 😉
series master list | AO3 link | full master list
1300 miles playlist
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previous chapter
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Since returning in The Blip, Bucky has hated the time between when he lays down and when he falls asleep. He can't seem to turn his mind off. He's still getting used to being alone with his own thoughts, having his own thoughts. Wakanda offered him some peace, and in his apartment, he keeps the TV running constantly to fill the silence and stop himself from getting too lost inside his head. But at Sarah's house, he's afraid to turn the television on for fear of waking anyone else. So, on Sunday night, he lays on the couch listening to the house creak and groan around him, trying not to overanalyze everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours. He also tries not to think about Jo and everything he likes about her: her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her lips, her hands, her breasts—
He cuts off his train of thought. She's funny, clever, and kind, and in just a few short hours, she seems to have commanded Bucky's undivided attention.
_____
On Monday morning, Bucky debates whether or not to text Jo. Sam advises him to wait a day or two: "Put the ball in her court. You don't want to seem over-eager," he says. Bucky doesn't point out that he hasn't felt this way about a woman in eighty years, so he is definitely beyond eager.
Luckily, Jo texts him first.
The slightly outdated smart phone Sam convinced him to invest in chimes. Jo's name appears on the screen, a small pink heart next to it, along with a photo of her in her glasses holding Toulouse and the message, I think Louie misses you, Sarge.
Another picture comes through. This time it’s of himself, asleep with Louie on his chest. Bucky smiles.
“Sam,” Bucky calls across the boat, “how do you save a photo on this damn thing?” He holds his phone up.
Sam laughs and trots over to him. “Hand it here,” he says.
Bucky hands him the phone, the message from Jo pulled up on the screen.
Sam raises his eyebrows, “Sarge, huh?”
“Don’t say a word,” Bucky warns. “Just show me how to save the photo.”
Sam walks him through the steps, then says, “You can make it your background, you know, instead of this…” he exits out of the text message and looks at the screen, “sad, generic picture.”
“You can do that?” Bucky asks.
“Did you not watch the tutorial videos I sent you, man?” Sam sighs.
Then he holds up the phone, snaps a photo of himself, sets it as Bucky’s home screen, and hands the phone back to Bucky.
Bucky stares at it for a moment. “What the hell?” he mutters.
“Watch the videos so you’ll know how to change it, Sarge.” Sam teases.
_____
Jo spends most of Monday and Tuesday trying not to think about Bucky and failing miserably. The only reprieve she has is band rehearsal which gives her something to focus on that isn't Bucky's hands or mouth or eyes or broad shoulders...
She throws herself into learning new music and tries to avoid texting Bucky every five minutes. They keep a fairly regular conversation going throughout the two days, but she's afraid she's going to scare him off if she seems too enthusiastic.
_____
When Tuesday evening finally arrives, Bucky pulls up outside the bar on a borrowed motorcycle Sam hooked him up with. He's sure that Sam only made it happen so Bucky wouldn't ask to drive his car.
He calls Jo on the intercom outside the residential door to the right of the bar. She buzzes him in, and he takes the stairs two at a time. He's full of nervous energy that he can't seem to burn off. At Jo's door, he runs a hand through his hair before knocking.
When Jo opens the door, Bucky has to stop himself from kissing her immediately. It doesn't seem like the right move for the very beginning of a first date, despite what happened between them two days earlier. Jo's dark hair is loose, falling across her shoulders, and her lips are a deep shade of red. It reminds him of the color women wore in the '40s, but he can't remember anyone looking as beautiful in the shade as Jo does.
She's wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into slim, black jeans, and when Bucky's eyes follow the trail of the gold necklace laying across her collarbone, he's greeted with the sight of the beginning of her sternum tattoo and the lace of her black bra peeking out. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes back to Jo's.
She smirks at him.
"You look gorgeous, doll," Bucky says.
"Not too bad yourself, Sarge," she says, taking in his usual dark jeans and leather jacket. She notices that he's not wearing his gloves.
"These are for you," Bucky says, handing her the small bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way.
Jo smiles and takes them. "You did say flowers." The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up in a smile. "They're lovely," she continues. "Just let me put these in water."
She moves away from the door, and Bucky follows her into the apartment. He watches as she pulls a vase from a kitchen cabinet and fills it with water. He can't stop himself from staring at the curve of her hips and backside in the tight, black denim she's wearing. All thoughts of not kissing her yet are dismissed.
He steps up behind her as she stands at the counter, snipping the ends of the stems and placing the flowers in the vase. Bucky's hands sweep over her hips and around her waist, pulling her flush against his own body — her back against his front. He takes her hair into his hand and moves it, so it falls over one shoulder, granting him access to her pale neck. His lips find the spot behind her ear, and he kisses her gently, before moving down to suck a bruise into the skin where her neck meets her collarbone. Bucky hears the scissors Jo was holding clatter onto the counter.
"If you start that, we'll never get to dinner," she says almost breathlessly.
"I did promise you dinner," Bucky mumbles against her neck.
"You did."
He spins her around and kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth, careful to not smudge her lipstick.
"Then dinner it is," he says, pulling away and offering her his hand.
Outside, Jo eyes his motorcycle with suspicion. "You want me to ride a motorcycle. In New Orleans," she says.
Bucky shrugs.
"The potholes alone will kill us," Jo argues.
"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks, his eyes shining with excitement and his mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile.
Jo nods. With that look, Bucky could ask her to ride a motorcycle naked through Mardi Gras and she would agree. "Of course," she says.
Bucky's smile broadens, and he places the extra helmet on her head. Jo doesn't care how much this will mess up her hair; she's too focused on how gentle Bucky's hands are as he secures the strap and flips the visor down. He puts his own helmet on and motions for her to climb on behind him. Jo wraps her hands tightly around Bucky's waist as he starts the bike.
He's surprisingly agile as he maneuvers the motorcycle through the streets of New Orleans, avoiding potholes and roadblocks. Jo relaxes her hold on his waist a bit and rests her helmeted cheek against his back. Bucky's heart swells at the thought that she trusts him to keep her safe.
_____
The restaurant Bucky chose from Sam's list of suggestions is housed in a converted warehouse a few blocks from the curve of the Mississippi River. Inside, it's louder than Bucky would have liked, but that also means that Jo sits close to him so she can hear him over the noise, her body angled toward his and her hand resting on his arm as she looks over the menu. Bucky places his own hand on her knee.
He has to remind himself to actually read the menu in front of him instead of just staring at Jo. He's finally made himself focus long enough on the entrees to decide what to order when he hears Jo let out a soft snort beside him. He looks up.
"Sorry," she says before biting her bottom lip to stifle another laugh.
He just stares at her.
"You do this thing," she continues, "when you're concentrating on something, where you squint your eyes, and you rest your tongue on your bottom lip. It's kind of adorable.”
Bucky sets his menu down on the table. "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'adorable' before," he says.
Jo hums and cocks her head to the side, staring at him. "Definitely adorable. But would you prefer charming? Handsome? Incredibly sexy?" Bucky blushes. "Should I go on?" she teases.
Bucky takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. "Please don't," he says.
"Not a fan of compliments, Sarge?" she goads him.
"Not used to hearing them," he mumbles.
Jo smiles and squeezes his hand. "We should change that," she says.
The corners of Bucky's eyes crinkle with his smile, and Jo wants to place kisses over each line created. Instead, she closes the short distance between them and opts for placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. She likes that Bucky lets her do this, lets her show her fondness for him this way. She's always been overly affectionate with people she likes.
For his part, Bucky is enjoying the contact. He used to love to hold a woman's hand, brush the hair from her face, press a kiss to her cheek, and after being denied any form of gentle touch for eighty years, he finds he can't get enough of it. He thought he would shy away from it after so long without human connection, but Jo makes it easy. She seems to make everything easy for him. He thinks about how normal it is to sit in a restaurant with a beautiful woman, and he chokes down the thought that maybe he doesn’t deserve anything easy or normal.
Over dinner, Jo leads the conversation. While Bucky answers her questions and engages with her stories, she's noticed that he prefers to stay quiet, prefers to listen. So, she talks. And while she talks, she observes him, observes the way his eyes follow her hands, the way his tongue drags over his bottom lip, the way his body tenses and turns ever so slightly to an unexpected noise in the room.
"You're very intense," she finally tells him.
"Sorry," he says, running his tongue over his lips again.
"Don't apologize," Jo says. "I like it. I like you."
The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and, for a brief moment, Bucky wants to pour himself out before her, tell her how she makes him feel like himself again after so long. He wants to confess to her, wants to tell her more than he's told Sam or his therapists or anyone in a lifetime – stories of his childhood and family, of Steve and the war, and everything after that. But the words get caught in his throat and the moment passes.
When they step outside of the restaurant after dinner and another drink, there's enough of a late-night breeze blowing to cause Jo to wrap her arms around herself. Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Jo's shoulders before tucking her body into his side. She lifts her head and smiles up at him as he leads her the few blocks to where the bike is parked.
Before he places the helmet over her head again, Bucky kisses her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body against his. He nips her bottom lip gently with his teeth and lets his hand wander down her backside, pressing her body impossibly closer. When he finally pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and his pink lips are slightly swollen.
Jo brings her hand up to cradle his jaw. "Take me home, Sarge," she whispers.
_____
At traffic lights, Jo, warm in Bucky’s leather jacket, finds her hands wandering from Bucky's waist to his thighs, drawing slow circles across the thick muscles there. When they stop at one particularly long light, Jo has to stop herself from letting her hand ghost across his crotch. She’s trying to respect his boundaries, his need to be in control. By the time they reach Jo's apartment, Bucky's half-hard beneath his jeans, and Jo is anxious to get him upstairs.
He parks the motorcycle on the street outside the bar and stashes the helmets while Jo unlocks the building's residential door. When the helmets are locked up, Bucky meets her at the door and guides her inside, his hands on Jo's hips. She turns and presses him against the inside of the door, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair and ghost her lips over his, their breath mingling.
"Are you done teasing me?" Bucky growls.
"Never," she laughs and moves out of his reach. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs before Bucky catches up to her. In one swift move, he lifts her up and tosses her over his shoulder, smacking her backside before climbing the stairs. Jo laughs and enjoys the view of his muscled back beneath her hands.
Bucky doesn't put Jo down outside her apartment. Instead, she hands him her keys, and he unlocks the door while holding her with one arm around her thighs. He doesn't set her down in the living room either; he carries her all the way through the apartment to her bedroom and tosses her gently onto her bed. Jo bounces once and laughs before sliding out of his jacket, kicking off her shoes, and pulling Bucky toward her.
"Come here," she says, releasing his dog tags from beneath the collar of his shirt and tugging gently on the chain.
Bucky steps out of his own shoes and climbs onto the bed, hovering over Jo. He pushes a strand of hair out of her face and stares at her. Her lipstick is faded from dinner and their kisses, but her cheeks and chest are flushed red in its place.
“You’re beautiful, Jo,” Bucky says, and he leans down and kisses her gently. They stay like that for a while, kissing slowly, finally breaking away for air and for Bucky to spread kisses across Jo’s jaw and neck.
“Bucky?” Jo whispers. He hums in acknowledgment, his lips pressed against her collarbone. “You're in charge, okay?”
Bucky exhales slowly, his fingers trailing up and down Jo's sides. “Good," he says. "Because first I'm going to make you come apart on my fingers, then my tongue, then my cock."
Jo practically whimpers, and her back arches, her chest pushing toward Bucky’s hands as they trail across her breasts then down to untuck her shirt. His fingers move quickly over the buttons on her blouse, and he parts the fabric to reveal the black lace of her bra. He leans back slightly and takes in the sight of her pierced nipples pressing against the fabric.
"Gorgeous," her murmurs before laving at one of her nipples through the lace. He leans back again and pulls the fabric down to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Jo sighs and weaves her fingers into Bucky's hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. Bucky growls against her breast, and his fingers move to the button of her jeans, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. His flesh hand dives beneath the waist of her underwear, and his fingers ghost over her clit. He's moving purely on instinct and maybe, he thinks, muscle memory.
“Bucky,” Jo whines as his hand dips lower, two fingers sinking into her wet heat.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He presses one more kiss to her nipple before claiming her lips again. He strokes her slowly, enjoying the way her walls clamp around his fingers and her eyes fall shut.
“More,” she pleads, and Bucky smirks against her lips. He crooks his fingers and presses his thumb against her clit until she’s gasping.
“Look at me when I make you come,” Bucky whispers, increasing the speed of his thrusts, his thumb pressing harder against Jo’s clit. He feels her tighten around his fingers, and she keens, arching her back, her eyes flying open and locking on Bucky’s. “Good girl,” he praises, and he adds a third finger as she clenches around him and digs her own fingers into the bed sheets, coming undone on his hand.
Bucky slips his fingers out of her and tugs her jeans and underwear down her legs, tossing them on the floor. His hands slide up her legs, over the curve of her hips and across her stomach to reach behind her back and unhook her bra. Jo sits up and shrugs out of her blouse and bra, letting Bucky throw them aside. His hand on her shoulder guides her to lay back down.
Bucky sits back on his heels and takes in the sight of her, from her flushed cheeks to the barbells pierced through her nipples to the trim patch of hair between her legs.
“Fuck, doll, look at you,” Bucky finally says, licking his bottom lip.
Jo breathes out a laugh and pushes at Bucky’s shirt until he’s pulling it over his head. He stands from the bed to pull his jeans off, as well, keeping his boxers on for now, then returns to her, his lips finding hers again. Their teeth clash, and Bucky’s fingers dig into the skin at Jo’s hips, holding her in place, keeping her from pressing up against his crotch.
“Be still,” he whispers, and his teeth nip at her jaw.
Bucky runs his tongue down her neck to the top of her left breast where he stops to suck a bruise into her tender flesh. He soothes the spot with his tongue and a kiss before continuing his path down her stomach to her hip. He uses his tongue to trace the floral pattern inked on the outside of her left hip down the top of her thigh and across to her cunt.
Bucky's heated breath ghosts across her sensitive flesh, and Jo gasps when he dips his tongue into her folds. He laps at her slowly, then sucks her clit between his lips, and Jo’s back arches and her whole body seems to rise off the bed.
“Be. Still,” he hisses again, and his arms wrap around the backs of her thighs to hold her in place.
“There," Jo whines. "Don’t stop. Please."
Bucky shifts his own hips against the bed, seeking any form of relief. He loves the sounds he's pulling from Jo, loves the way she tastes, and the way she ruts against him, despite his iron grip on her thighs. Later, he thinks, I'll lie on my back and let her ride my face until her legs collapse.
Stars explode behind her eyes when Jo comes, and a scream is caught in her throat. Bucky places a final kiss against her cunt, then pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jo reaches for him. He kicks off his boxers before settling back over her. She can feel him hot and hard against her thigh, and Bucky reaches down to stroke his cock, pulling the foreskin back with a groan.
"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, his eyes meeting hers.
Jo nods and cups Bucky’s face in her hands. “Are you?” she asks.
"Yes. God, yes," Bucky groans. He hasn’t wanted — needed — anything this badly in so long.
Jo wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. Bucky fists his cock, running it along her folds to gather her slick, before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust. Jo gasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her neck bared for Bucky’s lips and tongue.
Bucky’s vibranium fist is clenched so tightly in the sheets he thinks he might rip them. He relaxes his hand slowly, the plates that work as his muscles whirring quietly beside Jo’s ear.
Bucky groans against Jo’s neck. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me.”
He holds himself very still, giving Jo time to adjust to him, until her hips rise to meet his. He sets a slow pace at first, enjoying the way her body flutters around him. Jo digs her short nails into the skin of his shoulders, and Bucky is surprised to find he likes the slight sting. He shifts her legs even wider with his large hands on her thighs and sits back slightly to watch himself sink into her over and over.
Jo's hands drop to his waist, and she caresses the skin there gently before whispering, "Faster, please."
Bucky practically growls at her request before pulling back and snapping his hips against hers at a frantic pace. Jo keens, and Bucky shifts again to press his body over hers, covering her completely. She can feel his dog tags against her heated chest. He watches her bite her bottom lip, her green eyes meeting his. Jo is lost in his eyes, his pupils blown wide; the look he's giving her somewhere between awe and adoration, and Jo is certain the look in her eyes mirrors his because she is so far gone for him.
“I want to see you come again, pretty girl. Give me one more,” Bucky demands, his thumb rubbing harsh circles against her clit.
That simple command is all it takes to send Jo spiraling over the edge for a third time. Bucky follows behind with a low groan, tensing and burying himself deep within her. He drops his weight on top of her briefly, his head resting against her shoulder, before pulling away and rolling onto his back, bringing Jo into his side.
They lay like that for a while, Bucky running his flesh hand up and down Jo's arm while Jo presses lazy kisses against Bucky's chest. Eventually, she excuses herself to take her contacts out and wash her face, tossing Bucky a clean washcloth from the bathroom door, and when she slides back in bed, Bucky is on her again. He makes good on his promise to himself to have her cunt over his face, pulling another orgasm from her before she falls onto the bed beside him, laughing.
He takes her face in his hands and sweeps his fingers across her cheeks gently. He wants to tell her how amazing she is, how happy he is to have met her, how wonderful the past few days have been, but he isn't sure how to put all of that into words. Not yet.
So, he rolls them both onto their sides, her back pressed against his chest and his flesh arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Jo hums and laces her fingers with Bucky's, her eyes closing. She's warm and happy and sleep is calling her name.
_____
Bucky wakes an hour or so after he's fallen asleep, the beginnings of a nightmare fresh in his mind. When his senses clear, and he feels Jo's body pressed against his, he feels calm. He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her closer to him and presses kisses against her shoulder until she stirs.
Jo mumbles sleepily and pushes back against him, Bucky's cock nestled against her lower back. His fingers find her cunt, and she's still slick with evidence of their earlier encounter. He presses inside her slowly, groaning as he fills her, her walls tightening around him.
"Bucky," Jo sighs, her hand moving back to grip his hip as he ruts into her.
When he comes, he sinks his teeth into her shoulder to stifle his cry, then runs his tongue across the spot to soothe the sting. Jo drags the hand wrapped around her up to her mouth and kisses his palm. He tries to remember what he would have said to a woman in this situation eighty years ago, but the romantic words don't come.
Instead, he whispers, "I really like you, Jo," against her shoulder.
Jo laughs sleepily. "Good. I like you, too, Sarge."
_____
When Bucky wakes the second time, he’s alone. He can hear faint music coming from another room. He checks his phone. 6:00 AM. He slips out of bed and slides his boxers on.
The apartment is still dark with all the curtains closed, apart from light spilling from a crack in the music room door. Bucky finds Jo sitting on the floor, a guitar in her lap. He knocks and pushes the door open further. Jo turns to look up at him and smiles.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “I don’t always sleep well,” she says.
Bucky sits on the floor with her, his back propped against the wall. Jo has to stop herself from staring at his muscled chest and thighs.
"Play me something, doll," Bucky says, resting his head against the wall behind him.
She runs through a couple of songs while Bucky replays the events of last night in his mind.
"Shit!" he says suddenly, sitting up straight. Jo stops strumming and looks at him, bewildered. "I didn't wear a condom," he says.
“It’s okay. I have an IUD so I can’t get pregnant," she tells him. "And I’m disease free. I assume you are...you know, with all that super soldier serum running through your veins," she gestures toward him.
Bucky nods but stays silent.
“Do you know what an IUD is?” she asks in response to his silence.
He blushes. “When the government pardoned me, they made me do a complete physical — doctors poking and prodding me," he shudders involuntarily. "So yeah, I'm clean. Afterwards, I don’t think they really knew what to do with me, so they gave me a bunch of pamphlets on everything from mental health to safe sex.”
Jo hums and mutters something about the state of the American public health system.
“We should have had this conversation before we slept together," Bucky finally says. "That’s what the pamphlets recommend.”
Jo tosses her head back and laughs, and Bucky beams with pride at the sight.
“Come on, Sarge," she says, setting her guitar aside, "I’m taking you to breakfast."
_____
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astarryon · 3 years
Text
Amends
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Warnings: mentions of violence and weapons, slight language, short fight scene, etc.
Summary: The last thing you expect to find when you come home is the most important ghost from your haunted past.
A/N: Not really sure where this one came from, just something I dreamed up after watching the first episode of TFATWS! Let me know what y’all think!
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It’s the sharp, cloying scent of cologne that tips you off.
You don’t think much of it at first, initially having caught the trail of it down the hall from your apartment door. Automatically, you assume it belongs to one of your neighbors, or even one of the guests they’ve invited over for the night. Nothing to harbor any sort of significant concern over.
That changes the instant you reach your front door.
It’s locked. In addition to that, the hall light is off, and from what you can see there’s only darkness to be seen beyond the bottom crack of the door. For all intents and purposes, as far as you can tell, everything is exactly how you’d left it upon leaving your home earlier in the evening. But the closer you’d walked to your door, the more concentrated the scent had become –– to the point that it’s now the only thing your sharpened senses can focus on.
You didn’t used to be like this. Paranoid. Always instantly assuming the worst, to note something as simple as the smell of cologne hanging in the air and immediately jump to the conclusion that it meant someone had finally come to put an end to you. There’d been a time, once, when you trusted easily and laughed with everyone. When you would make conversations with strangers as you passed them by on the street, when you could spend ages soaking in the sun with your eyes closed with no worry of whether you’d open them to find a knife buried in your chest or a bullet lodged in your skull.
But you hadn’t been that way in a very, very long time. And as you crack the door to your apartment open, reaching for the knife hidden at your hip as the cologne’s stench only grows stronger, you can’t help but wonder if that isn’t as much a blessing as it is a curse.
Your apartment is dark, but that doesn’t make much difference to you. You’ve got the space memorized like the back of your hand, know where each corner is and where every weapon is placed –– home court advantage. Stepping inside and closing the door as softly as you can, you make sure to keep your back to the wall, clutching the handle of your knife ever tighter. You might know your way around, but you’ve been intentionally dulling your senses, your reflexes, in an effort to bury the past and leave it behind you. You’re not entirely sure where the intruder is in your home, and you’ll be damned before you let them get the drop on you before you’ve put up a proper fight.
And then you hear it. A creak in the floor boards with the shifting of body weight, just to your right. In your chest, your heart thumps so forcefully that you’re positive its bound to explode right through your ribcage, and you know you don’t have much time, but that doesn’t stop you from slipping your eyes closed for the single spare second you do have and steeling yourself for what’s sure to come before opening them again, sliding your gaze just over your shoulder to assess the present threat.
Your mouth instantly runs dry the moment you lay eyes on him.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says softly, but your reflexes kick in the moment he speaks and before you can blink, you launch at him in a flurry of fists and panic.
That face. How many hours have you spent trying to convince yourself you would never see that face again, never have that bone chilling, bloodcurdling voice rasping in your ear? How much time have you spent nervously glancing over your shoulder, moving from apartment to apartment because something in your gut told you he was on your trail? You didn’t want to believe it, had always tried to reassure yourself that he was gone –– that all of Hydra was gone –– but you’d never quite managed to convince yourself.
And, given that you’d just walked into your apartment to find the Winter Soldier staring back at you, that was apparently for good reason.
He blocks the first hit you throw at him easily, sidestepping out of its way. The second manages to clip him on the jaw, though it doesn’t succeed in knocking him back as it would on any normal person. He opens his mouth to speak again, but you don’t give him the chance to get a word out before you send a kick flying toward his face. He’s forced to duck and roll, which in turn gives you an opening to launch another kick, but he reaches out with a hand and clamps a vice like grip around your ankle.
All it takes is one decisive tug for him to put you flat on your back.
“Stop,” he snaps, reaching to knock the knife from your grip. Funny, that. In your panic to land a hit on him, you hadn’t even thought to make use of it. “Stop fighting. I’m not here to hurt you.”
It’s the second time the words fall from his mouth, but as with the first, they don’t leave much of an impression.
The Winter Soldier looks just the same as the last time you’d been in his presence, save for shorter hair and a clean shaven face. His skin is still pale as a sheet, turned ghostly in the few slivers of moonlight that manage to creep their way through the blinds hanging in the window. His eyes are still ice, a shade of blue that makes you grind your teeth and sets your nerves on edge. He’s got that same melancholy about him that had been there the first time you’d seen him, though now you knew better than to sympathize with it, to trust it.
Making that mistake years ago had cost you your life as you knew it.
“Get off me,” you command, struggling hard.
It’s no use –– his grip is much too strong. You won’t be going anywhere until he wants you to.
“Please stop,” he tries, an odd desperation in his words.
“Get off me!” you yell again, kicking with your legs like a helpless child.
The Winter Soldier clamps the hand not preoccupied with pinning your wrists above your head over your mouth, waiting for your muffled screams and swears to die down before trying to speak again.
“Look, this is simple,” he sighs tiredly, inexplicable sadness shining in his eyes. “I will let go of you as soon as you calm down. Alright? All I want is to have a conversation.”
You want to call bullshit, but his hand over your mouth still robs you of your voice. You aren’t sure what game he’s playing, but it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving you with much of a choice but to participate. And… well, technically up to this point, every move he’s made has been defensive. Perhaps playing along wouldn’t necessarily be the worst course of action.
He removes his touch from your body as soon as you nod and go still, making it clear that you have no intention to repeat your flurry of attacks from before. Part of you is tempted to make an attempt to pull one over on him, strike and get up and leave as fast as you can, but you know it would be in vain. He’s faster than you, always has been. It wouldn’t take more than a passing second for him to get his hand around your throat and squeeze.
The two of you sit together in silence for a few awkward minutes, trading nothing but ragged, adrenaline spiked breaths and charged stares between you. Just when you’re sure his ploy for peace had been nothing more than a cheap trick to allow him time to catch his breath before finishing the job and killing you, he opens his mouth, then closes it again, and repeats this sequence of actions two more times before actually giving a voice to his words.
“My name is James,” he tells you, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I’m… I’m not who I used to be.”
“You’re not?” you seethe, barely managing to keep your volume level in check. “You sure look the same.”
“I’m not,” the Winter Soldier –– or, James, as he’d introduced himself –– insisted. “Not at all.”
“That’s funny,” you spit, hands trembling where you’ve forced them to remain down at your sides. If you squeeze your fists any tighter, you’ll be sure to snap a bone. “Because I remember you. You and all the little lessons you made sure to incorporate into your training.”
“That wasn’t me,” James mutters lowly, jaw working hard enough that the grind of his teeth was audible.
“Oh, wasn’t it, though?” you hiss, flashes of red anger lacing your vision. “You weren’t the one who dislocated my arm and then forced me to spar without resetting it? You weren’t the one who taught me to lie by holding a blade to my throat and pressing the knife harder against my skin every time you saw a shift in my expression? Neither of those were you?”
“No,” he mumbles, but you hardly hear it, and you don’t care to.
You aren’t done with him. Not yet.
“Then you also must not be the one responsible for the deaths of my family,” you throw at him, the tang of iron souring the back of your tongue. “The one who took my parents away from me with the squeeze of a trigger? The same one who happens to be the whole reason that Hydra managed to get their hands on me in the first place? You knew what it was like, to be taken and turned into a monster, a–– a machine for them to build to suit their needs and use whenever they felt like they didn’t have enough power, but you didn’t care. You could have stopped that from happening to me, but you didn’t.”
“That wasn’t me,” James snaps, raising his hoarse voice at you for the first time all evening. The sudden outburst is so jarring it takes you aback, forcing a pause in the functions of your brain. All you can do is continue gazing upon the quiet anger which slowly boils into James’ features. “You were with Hydra for twenty years before Steve blew their cover, I was with them for seventy. Seven decades, doing the work of the people I enlisted in the world war to stop in the first place. Knowing that, do you honestly think the things I did were at all my own decisions?”
You cross your arms, swallowing hard as your gaze switches from his contorted expression to the floor. You don’t want to hear this. All these years hiding, trying to get back to some semblance of normal and carve out as much of a life as you could for yourself, it hadn’t been the faces of the Hydra operatives that haunted your nightmares each time you closed your eyes to fall asleep. It had been one with eyes blue as ice and twenty times colder, no compassion, compunction, or remorse to be found at all within their depths. One with a gaze deader than any of the corpses he’d been responsible for making.
That face was his.
“So why are you here then?” you sigh, still staring at the floor. You can’t trust yourself with anything else, not right now. Actually looking up at him holds the potential to yield very dangerous results. “To finish the job? I’m not stupid, I know none of the other agents are left. But if you think I’m just going to sit here all quiet and make killing me easier on you––”
“Oh, you people and your assumptions,” James mutters blackly under his breath, reaching a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That is not why I’m here. Which I might have been able to tell you if you’d just let me get a word in edgewise.”
“You mean like you used to let me?” you scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling and doing your damnedest not to give into the rage rising in your chest. “You’ll have to forgive me for not buying that, considering the entirety of our past and all.”
“Christ,” he gripes, more to himself than to you, “and Raynor says I’m paranoid.” The name isn’t one you recognize, but to James its significance is clear. Speaking it seems to serve as a reminder to him, and he exhales deeply and loosens his shoulders in response to it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost appeared to be counting himself down to his next sentence –– like it was so important he needed to work his way up to it. “I’m here… because…”
You blink, tilting your head to the side as you await his explanation. Actively refraining from attempting any guesses. Not exactly a challenge. If he truly didn’t come here to kill you, then his motive was a complete mystery.
Ages pass before he finally works up the nerve to say what he’s been meaning to.
“I’m here,” he sighs, carefully enunciating each word like he’s afraid they’ll break if he doesn’t pay them enough care, “because I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am… I am James Bucky Barnes, and you are part of my effort to make amends.”
His words are small, crafted with the brittleness of glass and about ten times as fragile. They’re spoken so resolutely that you’re positive this isn’t the first instance in which he’s uttered them to another human, but they seem… choked, for lack of a better description. Judging by his grimace, they clearly don’t come easily, either.
You’re entirely unsure what to make of them.
“You don’t have to say anything,” James assures you, clasping his hands together in a manner that almost looks meek. “I don’t expect… What I’m trying to say is that it’s not transactional, this apology. There isn’t anything I want from you, or anything I’m looking to take. Just… My doctor, she had me write out a list of names of people to confront, and some to apologize to. That’s the one yours is on.”
You hear the words coming out of his mouth. What’s more, you understand them in a conceptual sense. But for some reason your brain lags in correlating the words and their meanings, in properly contextualizing them in accordance with his soft tone and the sincere regret in his eyes. Of all the nights you’d spent living in fear of this exact moment, that your mentor of once upon a time would one day appear to quietly finish you off, the last thing you’d ever expected to be met with instead was this.
Whatever this was, exactly.
You scan his body head to toe once more, searching more carefully this time. Dressed in all black as he was, it made it slightly more difficult to be certain, but you don’t see any telltale signs of a gun hiding anywhere beneath his clothing. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one, nor did it mean there was no knife strapped to his arm or tucked away in his boot, but you could spy no evidence.
So, no weapons. No yelling, other than to cut through your assumptions of violence. No hissed warnings or threats. No apparent sign he’s looking for a fight. Each of your senses scream at you to ignore all of this, to put no trust at all into the meaningless words of a man, a machine, who had only ever served to bring strife and suffering into your life. Even in spite of the realization that he’s likely unarmed, you still find yourself tempted to attack and flee before he inevitably makes his move.
But then…
“Why?”
The question catches each of you by surprise. James, because he clearly hadn’t expected much of a response, and if he got one, he didn’t think it would be simple as a posed curiosity, and you, because you hadn’t truly meant to ask the question aloud.
“Why…?” James echoes, brow furrowing in confusion. Certainly a sight to behold. Time away from existing as the Winter Soldier had evidently made his face that much more expressive.
Strange, that there could be so much to read in that face, yet so little at the same time.
You open your mouth to speak, carefully sifting through words in your mind before deciding upon the proper combination to convey your meaning. “Why would you want to do something like that?”
James squints in confusion. “Apologize?” he reiterates, gears in his head visibly turning a mile a minute.
“You had to know what I would think,” you explain, “seeing you after all this time. You say you have a list? Well, I can’t be the only one who instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. Why would you… why would you want to put yourself through something like that? A slideshow of the people you hurt? That’s painful, James.”
“No more painful than all the things I did to them,” James sighs, shoulders deflating. “To you. And anyway, it wasn’t me who did all those things. It was someone else’s will, I was just… I was just the tool. That’s not something I can change, and I can’t bring back all the people Hydra used me to kill. But I can apologize for it, because I am sorry. Just like I’m sorry for my part in what happened to you.”
You can see it more clearly, now. The human in him. Before, he’d been cold. Mechanic. Void of any and all emotion as far as the eye could see. That had made it easy to hate him, all those days he’d made you fight, spar, endure endless physical and emotional pain until you learned to be the tool Hydra wanted you to be. In your pain, your rage, your fear that all you would know for the rest of your existence were dark rooms and metal walls, the Winter Soldier had been the one to incur your wrath.
But this man was not the one you’d known. This man was different. This was a man whose eyes glimmered with remorse so bright it looked like unshed tears. This was a man with a face so expressive it was hard to believe you’d known its features for decades. A man who only wanted to talk, because if he’d had a more sinister motive in coming here, you would surely be dead by now.
Just as he’d told you moments ago, this man was not the Winter Soldier.
“Does it help?” you question, unable to force your words above a whisper. “Seeking people out, apologizing like this.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” James tells you, blue eyes wandering back to the floor. The light of the moon peeking through your window casts them an odd tone of silver. “It doesn’t take the hurt away, not for me or for them. But it helps to say it out loud, that I’m not that person anymore. Not everyone believes it, but all of this isn’t for them. It’s for me.”
“To what end?” you ask, words coming out harsher than you mean them to. “What’s the point, then?”
James shrugs a shoulder, head shaking. “My doctor says closure,” he supplies, reaching up almost nervously to scratch at the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Making amends helps process difficult situations. It’s not easy, but I figure it’s as good a shot as I’ve got to move on from all of this.”
All James was looking for was a way to move on. Wasn’t that the same thing you’d been trying to do these past few years, when you laid down to sleep at night and did your best to push all the faces of the people you’d hurt at Hydra’s direction out of your mind? You certainly wouldn’t consider yourself the same person you’d been back then. Was it really fair of you to condemn James to his past in the way you’d been trying so hard to escape yours?
“I’ve been at this a long time, James,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Trying to move on from my past, trying to… forget. So far, it hasn’t worked out.”
“Forgetting isn’t the point,” James responds carefully, analyzing your face with marked carefulness. “You’ll never be able to forget. The past will always be there. It’s not something you can run from.” He pauses then, and the next time he speaks it sounds as if he’s been struck hard by a sudden epiphany. “But you can come to terms with all of it,” he goes on, “if you try. And you really gotta try, ‘cause otherwise all that bad will still be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning. Take it from someone who knows.”
And you don’t really know what to say to that. You’re not really sure what you can say. James’ certainty is tangible. You can feel it in his words, the way they tickle your brain like ribbons and set your mind rolling down a path you don’t altogether recognize. You want to ask him about it, make him elaborate further on all that he’s said, pick each and every one of his sentences apart until you understand the methods and reasonings for what he’s doing so you can know for sure if it will work for you the same it clearly seems to be working for him.
But he’s clearing his throat and running a hand through his dark hair before you get the chance.
“Like I said,” James tells you. “I’m very sorry for the hurt and the pain my actions have caused you. I can’t take it back, and I can’t change the past. All I can do now is try to be someone better. I hope… I hope you understand.”
And then he’s gone, out the front door so quickly you don’t realize until it shuts behind him.
You scan through your dark apartment, taking note of all your surroundings. James has left no sign of his presence, hasn’t disturbed a single one of your belongings. Even his footsteps over the floor on his way out had been remarkably silent –– though that, you supposed, was characteristic of his capabilities. Here and gone in an instant, fluid as a ghost.
The realization that you’d only been aware of his presence before entering your apartment because he’d wanted you to be strikes you dumb.
He hadn’t come here to cause you harm, hadn’t shown up at your home to kill you, rid himself and the rest of the world of the living reminder of the dark things which had gone on in the Hydra base –– though, doing so would have required such little effort on his part. No, James… James’ reason for seeking you out had been exactly what he’d told you.
Making amends, in an attempt to forgive himself for the things which others surely couldn’t. Perhaps that had been your mistake all these years. Rather than beating the past out of your mind with a stick, refusing to acknowledge it for everything you’re worth… maybe trying something else was the correct way to go.
Surely taking a page out of James’ book couldn’t hurt.
Your body took charge through no accord of your own, and before you realized it, you were standing in your kitchen beneath the glow of a single light staring down at a blank sheet of paper, fingers turning the pen in your grasp over and over again in your palm.
Names. You needed to write down names. But doing that would require you to actively delve into your past, and you weren’t sure that was something you could handle much of tonight. But there was one name which immediately sprang to mind, one repeating itself over and over in your head like a mantra. Sighing, you uncapped the pen and touched its point to paper, hastily scrawling out a single name before setting it back down on the counter.
James Bucky Barnes.
A list of names to make amends, half to confront, half to apologize.
You’d been on his. It only makes sense that he’d be on yours, too.
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terriblygrimm · 2 years
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genuinely curious why you think tfatws ruined bucky? he got a recovery arc and a personality and they gave him agency, which i think makes him an even richer, better character.
hey, thanks for the ask and the discussion.
i personally don’t see it that way - bucky was already well established. he already had a personality. we see his range all over the map from tfa to cw. i see tf.atws as taking this 3 dimensional, emotionally varying, experienced, and female-coded character (trope wise), and deciding to fully blame him for something he had no control over. for yrs marvel has been trying SO hard to make bucky a bad guy but audiences were just not having it, because that’s not who the character is, but tf.atws was their opportunity and they took it.
bucky’s sadness, loneliness and grief was literally palpable the entire show until about halfway through when he did a totally unexpected 180. he seemed utterly miserable aside from a few manly and marvel-level humorous quips to sam and awkward hetero-inserted flirting (who has time for that? nobody but bucky apparently! the one character audiences view as gay!). bucky as he stands is not leading-man material, he’s heavy and traumatized, so they reconstructed him and it felt very, very out of place.
granted yes, he DID do those things as the ws and to some degree he DOES need to accept that. but the show goes way beyond that and takes this headfirst approach into turning bucky into a macho, gruff and shady bad guy with a past who needs to atone. but for what? literally being tortured and brainwashed for 70 years? it’s proven in marvel canon that the words trigger the winter soldier, it’s not a choice. we as an audience have witnessed bucky screaming in agony at the torture, as his brain is fried and rewired. it’s also proven in canon that shuri needed to take out the “programming” in his head. none of it was bucky’s choice (obviously) and yet bucky feels this immense guilt over his ws actions. those feelings are a product of being a victim.
but instead of attributing his guilt to his victimization, marvel takes this “ohh the winter soldier is still in there!! will he/wont he snap back into being a bad guy!? the suspense!” facilitated by zemo. that is simply.. not the character? he should feel broken about his loss of agency, his loss of life and loss of choice. hadnt it been like 3 yrs or something since the events of endgame? where was his support group? where are his supportive friends? what does he view as his purpose? there was honestly no character growth or fleshing out done to expand his trauma other than blame him for it.
imo it’s just a tactic marvel used to buff up bucky post-the steve rogers (queer-coded) era. they “main manned” him. they cut his femme-coded hair and gave him a short buzzcut. they inexplicably gave him his dog tags back. they made him the rough-and-ready co-star to sam (who needed to remain the likable, unproblematic, level-headed, and well-meaning lead for marvel’s fear of their life). every character who interacted with bucky was rude to him and inconsiderate of his past. they even made the triumphant “breaking through the words” scene in wakanda cold, unloving and un-congratulatory. this man who’d been a victim for 70 yrs was crying alone at what should’ve been the biggest breakthrough moment in his entire character run.
he and sam also shared that VERY cringy, tone-deaf “man up” scene. man up for what? being brainwashed? to shoulder the responsibility of somebody else’s actions & make it better for others when HE’S the one who needs help?. also bucky’s very masculine list-making (just check it all off one by one and the feelings will be gone!), when in fact we as an audience know bucky- and we know he just needs a friend and a damn good cry. and yet we were supposed to believe this painful convo was an olive branch and some sort of revelatory breakthrough for him.
sam, who literally has nothing in common with bucky (dont even get me started on their ill-fitting pair-up), but who could’ve offered his veteran counseling experience that marvel conveniently forgot about, that could’ve helped add a substantial foundation to their relationship (!!!), told him to MAN UP and make it better for everyone else. even bucky’s actual therapist was very cold towards him. she was dealing with a prisoner of war, somebody who lost all bodily autonomy and marvel played it off like he was an insubordinate thorn in her side.
also the root of bucky’s arc was the fact that he killed that guy’s son, right? (forgive me, i dont remember any of the characters in tf.atws) and yet in the last ep when we COULD have actually seen bucky facing the consequences of his actions, the scene cuts off? that scene felt more like the BEGINNING of bucky’s self-realization arc to me, not the end. he FINALLY expressed that he had no choice in the murder. but then we see no more? and we don’t see the man’s reaction - something that could’ve formulated bucky’s future actions/outlook. he also returned the list to his therapist in the end as if checking off the names somehow healed him. ??
also, lastly, the shield. they made bucky OBSESSED with the shield but they refused to acknowledge that it was actually just steve that he missed. they admitted marvel didnt tell them steve’s whereabouts so they couldnt write anything concrete. sam deserved a shield/cap arc that was crafted MUCH better than bucky’s possessiveness over it. bucky’s emotions are understandable to a degree, but you’re telling me bucky, …who loved skinny steve before anyone, who understood that man’s soul and what he stood for, would attribute his legacy to the shield? a persona steve actually hated? ok marvel.
a couple of manly smiles and an undeserved (as an arc) awkward cook-out scene at the end didn’t tie up any loose ends for me. i thought it was honestly horrible.
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fkingsteverogers · 3 years
Text
Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine
A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short 
Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers
                                                        ****
With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest.  (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are. 
Five Days; Eastern Europe:
Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood. 
“You have to talk about her sometime.” 
“Who?” 
“Whoever makes you frown like that.” 
“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor. 
“Yo, man, what the fuck?!” 
Day One; New York City: 
Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t. 
“Just go, Stevie.” 
Four Days; Eastern Europe: 
Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human. 
You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written. 
You’d been good enough for Steve. 
He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.
Day Three; New York City: 
You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.” 
The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich. 
Two Days; Louisiana: 
“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.” 
The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?
“You have her.” 
He didn’t, not really. 
“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply. 
Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.
 It makes Bucky physically sick with rage. 
Day Four; New York City: 
After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business. 
“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place. 
“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--” 
“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)
Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on. 
The nights had been quiet since he left. 
Twelve Hours; New York City: 
Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief. 
It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches. 
“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug. 
“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head. 
“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..” 
Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.
Day Five; New York City: 
Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about. 
You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall. 
Thirty Minutes; New York City: 
Bucky gets thrown through a wall. 
It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome. 
Two Minutes; New York City: 
The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors. 
Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky. 
Now; New York City: 
You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away. 
Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself. 
“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.” 
“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”
She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch. 
It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up. 
When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy. 
And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls. 
He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 
Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you.  Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?
Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again. 
“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it. 
It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone. 
“You’re so beautiful.” 
He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe
Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position. 
“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.” 
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Text
What I Gotta Do
Character: Sam Wilson
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Pairing: Sam Wilson / Fem!Reader (OC)
Inspired by (song): What a man gotta do? - Jonas Brothers.
Warnings: Nop. Fluff. First meetings. Mentions of COVID-19. Flirting. Post!TFATWS.
Author’s Note: Hello! Hello! I hope everyone’s well 😃
Ok, this is the first fic that I write with our new Captain America, Sam Wilson.
Short story: I heard that Jonas Brothers song and think in Sam in the moment. And I thought: Why not?
That moment I realized that I love write with Sam. It's a lovely character that deserved the world.
This is the first part of the fic, so at night maybe post the other part.
I hope you like it and thanks you for your replies! Always are appreciated!!! XOXO 😘😘
bbb-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Part 1
You ain’t tryna be wasting time on stupid people in cheap lines, I’m sure, I’m sure…
I’m not tryin’ to be your part-time lover. Sign me up for that full-time, I’m yours.
I’m yours.
- Excuse me, My friend sent me on a commission - I hear that voice in the distance and I feel that deja vu as if I had heard it before. I even have the feeling of knowing it.
- Name?
- James Barnes. The girl who always serve him knows him as Bucky.
Jenny laughs and mutters something I can’t hear. Wasn’t the sad-eyed boy outside? I focus on the cake in front of me, trying not to make mistakes in the new colors that identify Captain America, who was now the new obsession of all the children of the country.
- Charm, they are looking for you - Jenny enters my field of vision and I just raise my hands showing her that I have the shield in them and I was not going to leave it to deliver an order - It’s no excuse. You must go.
- Would you do me the favor of delivering it yourself?
- Nope. Go and then you’ll thank me.
She gently takes the sugar shield from my hands and hands me the package with Bucky’s order.
I shake my head as I leave the kitchen and look around for the avenger’s possible delivery, but none of them fit the guy. Most of the men were keeping an eye on the people they were chatting with, and there were none waiting on the other side of the bar for the order.
- Tam? - My best friend turns around and as soon as I show her the package, she is simply pointing to the door with a “happy birthday” smile.
What the hell is wrong with her?
The sound of the door bell makes me look and as I put the green package on the table, I feel my cheeks start to heat up. The object of my deepest desires was there.
Captain America was at the bakery looking for a damn cake for his friend.
Oh my god … I think as I try to remove my blue apron, which is full of traces of cream of white and red colors, but I feel that the knot in my back becomes impossible to remove and I give up with a sigh.
“Ok, Charm. You have to calm down. He is the man you dreamed of the last few months, so you must behave like a decent woman since he will not respond as he usually does in your dreams”
- This is mine? - I lift my head quickly as Sam sees me with a smile and nodded at my apron - Nice color combination. I like it.
God save me from that. Why do I feel like the world is reeling?
- Sure, if you’re here to pick up Bucky’s order - I push the two small boxes towards him while he puts the cell phone in the pocket of the brown leather jacket he wears and walks a little closer to the bar. Hell, he was even more attractive in person, and I wished for a second that the image of him in his suit didn’t invade my thoughts.
That was my damn weakness.
People knew who he was but we all knew that he was too private a person to bother him on the street. That’s why they only came over to pat him on the shoulder or simply bowed their heads to him.
- Yes, I’m babysitting.
We both laugh and I bite my lip, hesitating whether to ask. It was customary for Bucky to spend his mornings here, and that he didn’t come is very strange to me.
- Is James okay?
Sam laughs as he leans calmly and confidently on the bar and lets out a heavy sigh, as if something about that question bothers him.
- I could say yes. He has the “cold” - I nod when I notice that he refers to the Covid, that disease that kept us on edge for so long and that today was considered just another cold - He asked me to come for his order on my way home.
- Shouldn’t you be isolated?
That question comes off my lips like I’m talking to Jenny, and I shrug at that rush of confidence.
- No, because contrary to what many people believe, I do not live with Buck.
I laugh as I feel Sam’s gaze on me and that attention makes me even more nervous, in a way that I find charming.
- It’s not exactly what he says. If you are that friend that he talks about so much, he says that you are not one of those who share things.
I hear him curse as he looks away and waves to those watching him at a table in the distance. The four young women who see him smile at him as if it were a trophy they want to get, something that I notice makes him feel uncomfortable.
- I’ll rip off that bastard’s arm.
I barely pushed me away with my hands up and he tries to get closer, perhaps preventing me from walking away if he could get past the bar. Which wouldn’t be difficult for him if he’s used to jumping off a building.
- That does not sound good at all - I approach while I extend my hand towards him, who takes it without even hesitating and a spark seems to jump in the place where our hands are joined - I’m Charm, by the way.
- Sam, Bucky’s “tight-fisted” partner.
- It’s hard not to recognize you.
I wanted to let go of his hand but he wouldn’t let me apart.
- So you know who I am?
That dazzling and shy smile made me realize that Sam Wilson is not one of the men to be good for popularity. Rather, they escape from it.
- It’s hard not to know when a man with a bionic arm comes to breakfast every day and talks proudly that his partner is Captain America - Sam drops his head while smiling and I feel my heart melt like butter in contact with fire. That gesture seemed to me the most adorable - Besides that you are the new obsession of everyone around here. Children love you.
- Just the kids? - The tone of his voice changes and I feel that he becomes softer when pronouncing those words. Was that some kind of flirtation? - You’ll make me feel really bad if it’s just childish fanaticism.
- That’s what the cakes I decorate every day say. Your admirers range from 2 years to 15 - I admit while trying not to laugh at the expression of feigned disappointment that appears on his face, I even maintain the image would be regarding my childish analysis and in a moment, I push my hand away for more than wish the warm contact - My nephew Katriel loves you. And he’s only 3.
He nods as he looks around.
- Buck always talks to me about this place, especially how well they treat him … And sometimes, he only talks about you sometimes - He approaches over the bar, as if he wants to keep that between us - I think he wants to have you alone for him.
I blush at his words and shake my head.
If you knew ….
- If that were the case, it would be a shame if he is getting his hopes up, since I’m interested in someone else.
I play with a small envelope of green tea in my hands and if I even doubt it, Sam takes it from me, he approaches to ask Tam for a pen, who sees him as if he were a delicious sweet as he hands it to her, and write something on it before putting it back in front of me.
- I would like to continue with this but I feel in my pocket Bucky’s insistence on why I’m not in his department with the blessed cake.
I looked down for a moment the paper and I see a number. His number.
- Actually, they’re cupcakes.
I see him roll his eyes as he smiles at me and indicates the tea bag between us as he takes the two boxes in one of his hands.
- In fact, tomorrow maybe I’ll try again these delicacies that have enchanted a certain white wolf.
- They will be waiting for you.
I respond by trying not to get my hopes up about seeing him here tomorrow and even try to appear indifferent, but something gives me away because he gives me a mischievous smile as he walks away from the bar.
- I’ll only come if you are here, darling.
- And why are you so sure I’ll be waiting for you?
- Instinct. I think there may be something important between us.
- That’s how they all begin … - He frowns at my words and I shrug as he remains still.
- I’m not like the others.
- I don’t know you.
- But you will.
- Whatever you say, Mr. Trust. Or should I say, Mr. America.
Tam, who is pouring coffee next to me, lets out a laugh and mutters under her breath “America’s Ass” that makes me choke on my own laugh.
- I heard that, girl - We both blush at that proposal he makes to Tam and after pointing her out to her, he indicates to me as if I were guilty of something - You remain as a witness, Charm will marry me.
I gasp for words to rebut that, but my brain fails for a second and I just shake my head. I sure look like an idiot.
- Whatever you say, Captain.
- You will do it. You’ll see - Something in his words makes me shiver and I don’t doubt that. It seemed like a promise he was willing to keep.
And worst of all, instead of freaking out, I liked the idea.
- Didn’t you have to go, Sam?
- I’ll come for you, darling. As many times as it takes - he walks to the door after saying goodbye to Tam and just gives me a smile that could melt any woman on the road - And one more thing, don’t make plans after work. You already have them with me.
His scream is heard all the way to the kitchen, which makes Jenny come out of it with some pieces of candy tangled in her hair that I don’t even want to ask how they got there and for the first time in a long time I feel the stares of everyone present about me.
- Is that what I think it was? Did Sam Wilson just ask you out?
- I never said yes - I try to avoid looking Jenny in the eye because unfortunately she knew of my infatuation with Sam and she would see that the idea of ​​a possible date was very tempting for my mind and my heart - Besides, he will give up easy .
- I don’t believe that him is the type of men who give up the first time. It seems one of those who insist until he get what he want.
- I don’t see it that way. Maybe it won’t even get anywhere. Besides, he doesn’t know that tomorrow is my day off.
Jenny rolls her eyes as she hands me another sugar shield she just entered the kitchen and indicates the shield as if it were a spellbound object.
- Don’t forget you’re talking about the new Captain America. Giving up, we both know, is not an option for him.
And time would prove her right.
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