#Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug

[spookfox-cosplay]

Hey, look, I decided to post my Winter Soldier cosplay here. I really like it. And I thought you might like it too. Bye😘

[zachoncrach]

if I may.

belongs to

[burberrycanary]

Hi there! I am about midway through reading your story Lost Vocabularies and it is amazing!! The whole series has been so lovely, I’m obsessed with the way you write! The way that you convey the boys complicated emotions and capture all the little nuances of their dynamic has me feral!! Beyond even them the way you inject so much personality into the locations is so good, I feel like I am there!! So thank you for writing this lovely story 💕 I was wondering if you happen to have a list of all the books that Bucky and Steve read? I have been looking up a lot of them and adding them to my to read list bc they sound so interesting lol! On that same note, how did you decide what books to mention? Are they all ones that you have read or did you do research to find ones you thought they would like?

I’ve been coming back and rereading this kind and wonderful comment in my inbox over the last few weeks when way too many massive, stressful, time-sensitive things were all happening at once. 💕 But since I have a little breather between crazy periods, I get to dive in here as a treat.

Lost Vocabularies involved a lot of research, which I hope isn’t apparent because I didn’t want there to be any noticeable difference between the parts of the story that are based on places I’d been, foods I’d tried and books I’d read personally—and what was created purely based on research. Fingers crossed that the seams don't show!

In this series, we see both Steve and Bucky use art to process—helping them understand themselves and connect to the world again. Bucky is drawn to stories while Steve as an artist is much more visual, but the underlying impulse is similar. In the same way that you learn a lot by glancing through someone’s bookshelves, what characters read is interesting to me, and revealing. This version of Bucky is a very private person so these books offer a glimpse into his inner life. And as the POV character we get to experience all these things alongside Steve.

I’m not much of a sci-fi or fantasy reader so some of Bucky’s picks were a real challenge for me. But I wanted these to be grounded in the characters and the storytelling functions, not based on my own taste and opinions, though of course those always bleed through. 

Steve’s Reading List

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Bucky’s Reading List

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos by Steven H. Strogatz

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I’ve included some notes and commentary on why I picked each of these works under the cut.

The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands)

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Classic post-WWII dystopian sci-fi that focuses on society collapsing after a series of catastrophes that were unintentional but very much caused by people, which leads to a lot of the population becoming blind. Thematically this work engages with the loss of identity that people, both abled and disabled, face in the process of survival and a dark look at what happens after societies break down. How this applies to Bucky is obvious, but part of the argument of this post-Endgame series is that it applies to Steve, too. 

Also, there are huge mobile carnivorous plants. 

Fun fact: the opening of this novel is said to have been the inspiration for 28 Days Later!

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion)

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

Alice Neel’s portraits are extraordinary, almost unnervingly vivid. In this story, Steve is familiar with her work as a fellow New York-based artist active in communist circles in the 1930s. She also worked for the WPA, producing wonderful street scenes that documented New York neighborhoods of the era. 

To be honest, I have so many questions about what Steve was up to in the late 1930s before his war mania of the 40s hits.

One of the core themes of this series is Steve struggling with what his body is for if it’s no longer for violence. Who is he if he’s not a soldier? What is his radically changed body if it’s not a weapon? How do you come home from the war?

In this regard, Steve and Bucky have all kinds of shared life experience.

So thematically I include Neel because of her startling gift for capturing personalities and bodies through a process of frank, earnest, truthful observation of the integrated completeness of body and self: this space that’s you. 

But a book of Alice Neel’s work with her sensitive portraits and fleshy frank nudes pulls him into flipping through page after page of these personalities and bodies, not idealized: seen.

Steve isn’t ready for that when he bumps into this big “impractical” art book in a holdover Barnes & Noble in Brooklyn, not when he’s still so shook up and adrift. But he will be.

There’s such empathy and radical humanism to her pieces. “People,” as she famously said, “come first.” I stand by the conclusion that Steve would love her work.

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft was relatively unknown in his lifetime—he died in 1937—but his stories were published in popular fantasy pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Astounding Stories, which is where Bucky would have come across his work. The fact that Steve recognizes Lovecraft by name means that teenage Bucky must have talked about what he was reading and the pulp stories he liked with teenage Steve, which is adorable—“this Lovecraft fellow, Steve, you wouldn’t believe the stuff he comes up with.” And Steve was paying attention enough to remember two decades and change later without the benefit of his serum-enhanced memory, which hurts my heart a little in the best possible way. 

That’s how Steve all these years and decades later is able to wordlessly toss this collection of H. P. Lovecraft’s stories at Bucky on a hot hazy stumbled-upon beach in northern Florida and watch Bucky’s whole face light up. 

And of course Bucky would view Lovecraft as a great beach read 😂

But this is the basis for something I’ve written into this series: Bucky excitedly sharing things he finds interesting with Steve—wanting to tell Steve first, Steve most. And although Steve is quiet, stoical and very self-contained, he’s paying a whole hell of a lot of attention.

Given that Bucky is canonically a Tolkien fan, I think the imaginativeness and ranging scope of Lovecraft’s complex, often interconnected stories would appeal to him. And, thematically, Lovecraft is distinctive for the era for having characters psychologically fragment when confronting these vast inhuman others. 

“The Call of Cthulhu” opens with:

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

Steve and Bucky have each voyaged out a long way.

Trauma, in a way, is a form of terrible knowledge. You can heal but you can’t unknow things. 

Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation)

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

This is the first book in the series that we see Bucky pick for himself. And, wow, he picks a doozy with themes of multiple and unstable identities, invasive surveillance, manipulation, psychosis, and how individuals can get chewed up by larger systems, falling through the cracks of society. Dick was writing based on his own troubled experiences with southern California drug culture of the early 70s, but this work gets at much more fundamental darknesses that I think would speak to some of the horrors Bucky has gone through and won’t talk about, not even with Steve. 

Within the first few pages, we get this:

It was midday, in June of 1994. In California, in a tract area of cheap but durable plastic houses, long ago vacated by the straights. Jerry had at an earlier date sprayed metal paint over all the windows, though, to keep out the light; the illumination for the room came from a pole lamp into which he had screwed nothing but spot lamps, which shone day and night, so as to abolish time for him and his friends. He liked that; he liked to get rid of time. By doing that he could concentrate on important things without interruption.

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

Eggleston was an early pioneer in color photography and that fascination with color is very apparent in his work. I think this focus would grab Steve as an artist who doesn’t take seeing the full spectrum of color for granted. Even in the MCU’s thin action-film scripts, Steve comments on things that offend his aesthetic sensibilities even when that has absolutely no bearing on the situation at hand, from Stark Tower to Lang’s van.

Not even a world-ending crisis can keep Steve from going, wow, no, that’s ugly. I enjoyed running with that 😂

Steve’s view of Eggleston’s photographs shifts over the course of the series, reflecting what he’s feeling, from the fragmented and disconnected detachment—“isolated and off-kilter”— that he sees in them at the beginning that shifts to the passionate engagement in the world he finds in them later. 

Steve looks through the whole book of William Eggleston’s photographs again and at first the colors still roll over him like the shockwave of a distant explosion, all he can focus on. But gradually the subjects and compositions pull forward, too: monumentalized images of the everyday that at first seem neutral, the work of a detached observer. But the off-center framing of ordinary life is so deliberate as though everything might be important and where every detail deserves attention—that’s nothing like neutral. That’s not detached at all. You have to care a whole hell of a lot.

This mirrors the journey this post-Endgame Steve goes on. Because Steve Rogers should be a character who cares a whole hell of a lot, not what the MCU writers eventually reduced him to. And that’s what this fix-it is trying to fix. 

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

I love writing Bucky as a big fucking science nerd. His last night in New York and how does he want to spend the time? At a science fair with his best friend and a couple of pretty girls. So Bucky reading about quantum electrodynamics is delightful to me. The thing is, though, Bucky is a bright enough guy with a high school education. He’s not a genius—and the MCU is lousy with geniuses. But if Bucky wanted to learn a little more about all this quantum stuff he heard about in passing during some vague and very improbable sounding explanations, which by the way also allowed one of the few people still living who truly matters to him and the closest thing Bucky had left to family to fuck off to the past, well, Feynman’s QED isn’t a bad place to start in understanding some of this quantum stuff, at least. 

Feynman here is very much writing for a popular audience. His writing is conversational—the book is adapted from a set of lectures he gave—and his voice is witty, casual and surprisingly light, but at the same time Feynman is deeply invested in helping lay people understand quantum mechanics. The book opens with:

Alix Mautner was very curious about physics and often asked me to explain things to her. I would do all right, just as I do with a group of students at Caltech that come to me for an hour on Thursdays, but eventually I’d fail at what is to me the most interesting part: We would always get hung up on the crazy ideas of quantum mechanics. I told her I couldn’t explain these ideas in an hour or an evening—it would take a long time—but I promised her that someday I’d prepare a set of lectures on the subject.

I prepared some lectures, and I went to New Zealand to try them out—because New Zealand is far enough away that if they weren’t successful, it would be all right! Well, the people in New Zealand thought they were okay, so I guess they’re okay—at least for New Zealand! So here are the lectures I really prepared for Alix, but unfortunately I can’t tell them to her directly, now.

C’mon! Tell me Bucky Barnes would not be hooked by this opening. 

Thematically, and more seriously, the question of how could Steve do this? has two very different meanings. So far in this series Bucky isn’t ready to confront the harder version of that question which comes potentially with some very painful answers: how could Steve make that choice? Nope, he’s not ready for that. Instead, his brain unconsciously takes the easier way out: trying to understand quantum electrodynamics. 😂😭

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Bucky must have liked A Scanner Darkly, because he went for another Philip K. Dick novel. Today remembered mostly as the source material for Blade Runner, this bleak dystopian novel is set in the aftermath of a devastating nuclear war that destroys most life on Earth. The work has themes around empathy—who feels empathy and for what?—materialism and what really makes us human. 

I find it interesting how Sebastian Stan talks about The Winter Soldier in terms of someone who has undergone a process of total desensitization, which to varying degrees is deliberately part of the training of all soldiers. But rebuilding his core sense of empathy was one of the things Bucky chose to do as soon as he had any agency in that two-year period where he was on the run, which is remarkable. As a person who has been treated as though he wasn’t human and had his empathy forcibly stripped from him, I think Bucky would have a lot of complicated feelings about the enslaved androids who escape but are ruthlessly tracked down and killed. Some of these escaped androids are dangerous and do lack basic empathy—shown in the book by torturing and mutilating an animal—while other androids seem like ordinary people just trying to live their lives. 

I like that Bucky talks about the book with Steve later in the story, returning in my view to a very old habit of bookworm Bucky wanting to share what he’d been reading with Steve <333

“I need to find something to read next,” Bucky says after wrapping up his description of an imagined religion that involved plugging into a box to virtually suffer the existence of a man forever walking up a steep hill while struck by crashing stones. 

“Well, did the androids dream of electric sheep?” Steve asks.

“Who knows?” Bucky knocks into him gently as he takes the bowl Steve passes over. “They just wanted to be free. Though the free people just wanted to own stuff or plug into a box and suffer. So, you know, sort of a grim outlook. ”

“A little light, cheerful reading.”

“Hey, we live in a world where people write ‘Take back what’s yours’ in the streets and then smash up the windows. Dystopias don’t seem so far off the mark.”

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Another case of Bucky sticking with an author he likes! To me, this implies that Bucky has already read Feynman’s Six Easy Pieces, which explains some of the foundational basics of physics for a very broad and non-technical audience. Six Not-So-Easy Pieces is also drawn from Feynman’s famous Lectures on Physics, focusing here on relativity and space-time, but this work assumes a greater knowledge of math, hence the name. But as a legendary sniper Bucky must have a strong aptitude for math and anyway I just leaned into making Bucky an all-around nerd, because Bucky Barnes, nerd who grew up hot, is delightful to me. 

Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time are all on point for a post-Endgame fix-it, which I think should count as a not-so-easy piece in its own right. 

Throughout the series, we see Bucky using physical copies when he reads fiction, more or less from unconscious nostalgia: connecting back to memories of his younger self who was an avid reader of pulp magazines and cheap paperbacks. Once Steve gets him going with that first quietly tossed-over gift, Bucky always carries around a sci-fi or fantasy book in this series despite the limited space in his backpack. And this familiarity wouldn’t just be from his pre-war life since I figure Bucky would have gone for the Armed Services Editions that were distributed for free to soldiers. Bucky likely traded with other soldiers once he finished a book if he couldn’t get a new ASE distribution: trading in his finished novel for a new one is Bucky unconsciously falling back into another old habit.

But for non-fiction, Bucky is absolutely here for the Modern Marvel of being able to carry around as many books as he likes on his phone. I figure Bucky would have used public libraries during certain stages of his recovery when he was homeless and migratory since they are a place to get information that is consistently available in cities; and a warm, quiet place you can go with a minimal number of security cameras. I headcanon a middle-aged librarian who has a few streaks of gray in her dark hair—and who reminds Bucky of someone but he has no idea who—explaining what e-books are to this tall, gaunt, soft-spoken homeless guy with an eye contact problem. And this person who isn’t the Asset anymore and isn’t Bucky Barnes yet has the out-of-nowhere thought: huh, whaddaya know. That’s pretty neat.

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos: With Applications To Physics, Biology, Chemistry, And Engineering by Steven H. Strogatz

Isolated systems tend to evolve towards a single equilibrium and these equilibrium points have been the focus of many-body research for centuries. But life is generally not that simple because most systems aren’t isolated. Often the dynamics of a system result from the product of multiple different interacting forces and objects in these systems can change between multiple different attractor wells over time. Or as Strogatz puts it:

As we’ve mentioned earlier, most nonlinear systems are impossible to solve analytically. Why are nonlinear systems so much harder to analyze than linear ones? The essential difference is that linear systems can be broken down into parts. Then each part can be solved separately and finally recombined to get the answer. This idea allows a fantastic simplification of complex problems, and underlies such methods as normal modes, Laplace transforms, superposition arguments, and Fourier analysis. In this sense, a linear system is precisely equal to the sum of its parts.

But many things in nature don’t act this way. Whenever parts of a system interfere, or cooperate, or compete, there are nonlinear interactions going on. Most of everyday life is nonlinear, and the principle of superposition fails spectacularly. 

You can think of nonlinear dynamics as situations in which the sum of the parts is insufficient to understand the whole. This connects to multiple themes in this story as Bucky and Steve try to understand themselves, their lives and each other. But here Bucky is also just continuing to live his best life as a nerd with a strong intuitive knack for math, a high school education, an internet connection and a growing collection of science e-books. Or as Bucky puts it:

“It’s nice, though, like this smart guy is just talking to you but doesn’t assume you’re dumb because of what you don’t know.”

It’s touched on only very lightly in the series so far, but Bucky has a lot of complex feelings about higher education that relate to class, indirectly to sexuality, and go back to the experience of being the son of upwardly mobile working-class immigrants who were very bought-in on a traditional take on the American Dream.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I picked this partly because I thought the title would grab Bucky, who has been a stranger in a strange land several times over. Thematically this midcentury sci-fi novel focuses on challenging social norms through having the main character, a human who’d been raised by Martians on Mars, come back to Earth as an adult. A best-seller in its day that was controversial for its rejection of Christianity, monogamy and the nuclear family, the work is very tied to the looming cultural changes of the 60s and 70s. 

The novel’s critical reputation has been steadily in decline for decades, but I think Bucky would find it interesting since he grew up within the traditional early 20th-century culture this novel satirizes and challenges—mores that this story’s version of Bucky didn’t unquestioningly accept but didn’t openly challenge, either.

Having Bucky pick this novel reflects the themes for the last act of this story that focus more on Steve and Bucky's different experiences as closeted queer men growing up in a deeply homophobic society. These experiences continue to shape and impact them and yet are also a past these two are coming to terms with and growing beyond. 

Fun fact: this novel coined the word “grok.”

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Of all the books featured in this series, One Mighty and Irresistible Tide is my top recommendation. This is an accessible, well-written history of a topic that haunts American history: immigration. The specific focus is the waves of legislation passed in the first half of the 20th century that tried—and often succeeded—in limiting who could legally immigrate based on the racial and ethnic hierarchies that equally haunt American history, right down to the foundation. 

In this series, I wanted to pick up the themes of social justice and immigration that were so vaguely and incoherently included in TFATWS. These themes are inherent in the Snap and Return plotline except that Disney does not want to touch any of these politics with a ten-foot pole. But I remain fascinated by trying to wrap my mind around what it would mean for half the population to vanish and then return five years later, catastrophically in both cases. It’s a huge, intricate, sticky, difficult world-building problem that’s inescapably political. 

Steve isn’t quite ready to dive into facing or helping to fix the problems of the post-Return world that his actions helped to create. But here we get to see Steve’s burned-out passion and conviction slowly rekindle as he reads about the complicated and often ugly history of American immigration—and he gets mad about it. Of course, he gets mad about it! This is my answer to the ludicrous idea that Steve Rogers could quietly sit out the second half of the twentieth century. 

At the same time, I can have compassion for Steve knowing he can’t keep going but not knowing how to help himself, only to be given the cursed monkey’s paw of time travel. And he fucks up. His actions have real and lasting consequences. But that doesn’t make the situation hopeless or mean Steve can’t try to repair the relationships he damaged or work to regain the trust he lost, assuming he’s lucky enough to be given another chance by people who love him but have been hurt by his choices.

One of the greatest challenges in writing this Endgame fix-it was accepting Endgame as the starting point of the story and trying to reconcile a character I love with the choices canon has him make. Over the course of these stories, the central point isn’t Steve coming back to Bucky. It’s Steve coming back to himself. Through a slow and painful struggle, Steve finds himself again—rediscovering his stubborn endurance, his compassion for others and his drive to set wrongs right. Steve stumbled, badly, but he gets back up. Because that’s who Steve Rogers is. 

And because of who Bucky Barnes is—his innate kindness, his warm-hearted generosity and his stubborn loyalty that isn’t blind but runs deep—that’s how these two characters come back to each other, after everything.

Deliberately, this series is the first hard-fought and hopeful glimmer in a long trudging process that can get so heavy to carry forward, day after day, but is shot through with moments of beauty and joy all the same. 

I can't go on; I'll go on.

In other words, to quote one of my favorite poets: what the living do.

[luna-rainbow]

Sorry to the 4 people who already voted I was unhappy with one of the options and couldn’t change it 🙈

[darthbloodorange]

Rations

Rating: Gen Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers Warnings: None Major Tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, World War II, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers's Metabolism, Hungry Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers vs the Super Soldier Serum Word count: 100 - Drabble

Summery: Steve and Bucky get something to eat after returning to camp.

For the: ✦ Stucky Bingo - IMAGE: Steve and Bucky after the POW rescue [G4] (Card: 5054)

Read below or on AO3 >HERE<

He spent who knows how long in Hydra's grasp, starving, and yet he couldn't work up an appetite to eat his rations. 

Bucky sighs, pushing the rations around in its tin. "Do you think there's actually egg in the 'Egg and Ham', or do they just say that to make you feel better about the texture?" he asks, turning to Steve. 

Steve looks up from opening the third(!) pack they had given him. All his rubbish looked licked clean.

Bucky shudders, "Serum must've killed your taste..." he tries joking.

"Taste's nothing t'do with it," Steve says, shrinking, "M'just real hungry."

THE END

Sort of inspired by Bucky's comment "You don't have one of those do you?" when Red Skull tore off his face. I thought Bucky seeing Steve eagerly eating his rations and asking "Did the serum take your sense of taste?" would be a funny continuation. Then I thought he'd be horrified for Steve when he learns about the change to his metabolism (He'd likely be horrified by a lot of the serum's changes to Steve.)

Why isn't Bucky as hungry? Well, I like to headcanon that Steve and Bucky have two very different serums. The version given to Red Skull was unfinished and unrefined.

The one given to Steve was next to perfect, and Hydra failed to get it. The one given to Bucky likely was based on Red Skull's serum, whatever notes they could get from Erksine and Zola's experimentation. (I don't know if Bucky grew taller like Steve did?) But for being the Winter Soldier I think it would be an asset for Bucky to be super-efficient at extracting what he needs from food and going a long time without (Kind of makes the Winter Soldier a little scarier. He will outwait you. You will die of hunger and thirst before he does.)

[stressedbuttrying]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Feels, POV Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Past Torture, Past Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, It's Bucky You Know Why You're Here, No Smut, Night Terrors, Asexuality Spectrum, Aromantic Asexual Bucky Barnes, Touch-Starved Bucky Barnes Summary:

Set sometime between Chapter 7 and 8 of my work "The World Keeps Changing".

Cookie finds Bucky late at night in the midst of a PTSD episode. Told from Bucky's POV.

[nessieart]

TEETH pt. 17

WC: 4.6k

So sorry this took a million years to get out. I’ve been so stuck where I wanted this to go, so. Here we are! Please enjoy!

—

Masterlist

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The next week goes by in a blur, as you get used to being in the Tower.  Pepper left the next morning after the D.C. footage revelation, heading back to Stark Industries in California for a few meetings.  She promised a lunch date when she returned, giving you a tight hug before she left.

The week spent in the Tower around Tony, you realized he and Bruce were almost always in the lab together.  When Bruce managed to get Tony out of the lab long enough for him to rest, they both always returned to the floor, where they all shared dinner.  Tony claimed it was just easier this way since the top few floors and penthouse were still undergoing minor construction from the Battle of New York.

You awoke to the feeling of lips pressing along the side of your face, trailing down from your cheek to your jawline, to your neck, then a lingering press to your shoulder.  You sighed, the fight to stay asleep fading when arms wrapped around your middle to pull you back against a solid, warm body. 

It was still early, you could tell, the sun barely peeking above the horizon when you squinted an eye open.  You shifted back against Tony and cuddled closer, sighing again.

"It's early," you croaked out, sleep evident in your voice.  You turned your head to look at Tony over your shoulder, his nose poked into your cheek, and he nuzzled into you more.

"Sorry," he squeezed you a little closer, "Pepper needs me to fly out to London for a meeting she can't make," Tony dropped his head to your shoulder and sighed. "I forgot I told her I'd go until J reminded me."

You turned over to face Tony, taking in his appearance now. He still wore the old band tee from yesterday, his jeans were still on, and the bags under his eyes were evidence enough. You brought a hand to his cheek and could feel the stubble of his unshaved face under your palm.

"I know what you're going to say," he brought a hand up to cover yours and kissed your palm.  "But I can sleep on the jet," he shrugged a little.  You went to protest, mouth opening with a retort on the tip of your tongue when he kissed you.  Effectively silencing anything you had to say.  He pulled away after a moment, and you went to chase his lips. He chuckled lightly. 

"I'll be back tomorrow," Tony shuffled out of bed, then leaned over again to peck your lips at the pout you gave him.  "Brucie is also away for a few days, something about a conference or…something," he waved a dismissive hand in the air, "JARVIS probably knows."

You whined when he stood up away from the bed, making little grabby hands at him.  Tony laughed lightly, the sound filling your insides with a warm, gooey feeling. It made your heart happy to see him carefree and happy.  He removed his shirt in one swift motion and tossed it onto your face.  You inhaled his familiar scent and slipped the shirt over your head after discarding the one you were in.

Tony disappeared into the closet, and a few moments later, he returned in another band shirt, this one clean at least.  The faded Rolling Stones logo on the shirt made you wonder how long he actually had these shirts. 

"The full moon is in two days," you remind him, stretching wide on the newly vacated bed.  Tony's eyes briefly flash with concern before he schools his expression. "Just reminding you," you tell him.

He nods, thinking, “Well the Wreck-it room is all yours,” he gives you a small smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  Tony’s brows furrow for a moment as he gazes at you. “I’ll miss you,” he says softly.  You smile up at him and roll towards him to the edge of the bed, getting up on your knees and placing your hands on his chest.

“I’ll miss you too, Tony,” Your hands slide up to his neck, and your fingers weave into his hair.  Spending the past week with Tony was nice. Though you didn't understand half of what he and Bruce talked about in the lab, it still felt perfect to be around him.

Maybe it had to do with being around your mate that made you feel whole. There was never a sense of wanting to run or keep yourself on the move. 

A content sigh left your lips when Tony brought his forehead to rest on yours. One of his hands on your waist and the other pressed between your shoulder blades to keep you close.  

His nose nudged yours before he spoke, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

You rolled your eyes, "That's a very short list.  I'm sure you'd do just about any--mmff," Tony cuts you off with a sweet kiss, muffling the rest of your sentence into his mouth.  You hum, gripping the hair at the base of his neck a little tighter.  The hand on your waist grips you a little harder as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervor. 

Tony pulls away after a minute to catch his breath, chest heaving to take in air.  You pepper kisses along his jaw and down his throat, grazing ever so slightly with your teeth, your fangs extending at the thought of biting him, marking him as yours.

There's a sharp tug to your hair, and you're forced to look up at Tony with hooded, glowing eyes.

"I thought we agreed on no biting, honey?" He husks out between pants. He licks his lips, and you track the motion, a sly grin pulling at your lips.

You could easily get out of his grip, but you like him, thinking he can handle you a little longer.

"I just think," you lean in again and lick a stripe up his neck, "you might need my mark on you," you nip his throat again, and his breath hitches. "Can't have others think you don't belong to me.  That you don’t belong with me." There's a slight growl at the end in your voice, and you can feel Tony shiver.

You attach your lips to the crook of his neck where it meets his shoulder and bite.  It's not hard enough to break skin, but just enough to let him know you mean it.  Tony pants heavily, the hand in your hair moving to keep you to him and the other wraps around your waist.  You're almost positive you hear him whimper a yes, and you're about to bite down to finally put your mark on him -

Sir, the quinjet has arrived.  It is waiting for you so you can head to London.

A growl rips through you, and you glare at the ceiling. Tony slumps against you, and his head is buried in your neck.  You smooth his hair back and look at your handiwork.  Pride wells up in you at the indents on his neck.  A small bruise forming around the area of fine teeth marks.  It's not the mark you wanted on him, but it should last until he gets back to you.  Your thumb trails over the edges of your mark, and Tony shivers again.

A pleased hum fills your chest, "This will do, for now.  Mate," you smirk at him when he stands up to his full height, a playful glare on his face.  His hands squeeze your hips before he backs away. A hand goes through his messy hair as he tries to compose himself. 

Tony huffs, his fingers lightly brush the teeth marks on his shoulder, and you can almost feel it, a tingling running up your spine and your eyes flash again.  He puts a hand up against your forehead when you go to lean in again and shakes his head.

"No, no more of that, I don't think I could take it," then he cups your cheek and gives you a quick kiss.  "But I really do need to go," you nod, the smirk still on your face.  "I'm going now," one more peck.  Your hands squeeze his wrists as he backs away.

Tony pulls something out of his back pocket and holds it out to you, “Had this sent up for you,” You take the proffered item. It’s a sleek palm sized rectangle. The Stark Industries logo is on the back, and you look up at Tony with a confused look. 

“It’s new, hasn’t hit the market yet,” he taps the front, and it lights up, a screen coming into view with small buttons.  “StarkPhone; everyone important is already in there.”  Tony smiles at the tilt of your head, “Pepper, Happy, Bruce, me.  I may have put a certain Star-Spangled Man in there as well.”

Your eyes light up. You haven’t talked to Steve since you left D.C.

“Thanks, Tony.  Though I do have the watch you gave me, too,” and you turn your wrist over, and the watch also lights up with the time, a light blue backlight coming on as it activates.

He shrugs, “Well, now you have the phone!”  He pecks your nose and begins to leave the room.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," you tease him.  Tony laughs loudly as he leaves the room, the sound echoing down the hall.

-*-

The gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above your head is sweet. The smell of spring giving way to Summer is evident in the sun shining through the leaves.  You’ve been spending a few hours in the park since arriving in New York, and it makes you feel content, getting out of the confines of the Tower.  But you don’t mind spending the time inside when Tony is around.

You spent most of the morning in the park, after Tony left, lazing around between the sun and the shade.  Right now, your back is pressed to a big oak tree, the earthy smell of the bark filling your nose as the wind changes directions.  It’s peaceful and calm.

As the wind picks up speed, you smell it.  The odd scent, but you swear you know it. It makes you sit up right.  The hair on your arms stand on end, and a shiver runs up your spine and over your shoulders.

It smells like woodsmoke and fresh mint leaves, something sharp and tangy.  You stand up swiftly and turn into the wind, sniffing the air and scanning the trees.  The wind blows again, and the sun shines between the leaves and catches on silver blue eyes and a gleam of metal by his hip.  You perk up and raise a hand in greeting, a tentative smile on your face.  He seems hesitant, eyebrows creasing together in concern as he takes a step back to be covered by a tree more.  When you go to step closer, he doesn’t move, so you scan the area around you before heading into the thicker part of the wooded area towards him.  He’s standing on the other side of the tree from you, and you give him that space.

You smile up at him, “Hi, James,” you say softly into the woods.  His eyes scan your face like he’s trying to remember your name or remember your features.  "Do you remember me?" You feel like you ask him that a lot, but to be fair, he's had his memories wiped for the last 60 or so odd years. 

Bucky nods once. It's hesitant, but you'll take it.

"Do you know who you are?" 

His brows crease again, "I- think so," he then pulls out some folded and wrinkled paper from his back pocket.  He gives it a flip in his hands and then shoves it in your direction. When you step forward to take the paper, the wind shifts again and blows toward Bucky.  He inhales deeply, "Petals.  Of flowers. Dewey grass," you tilt your head at him, and his eyes focus on yours.  "You," he says quietly and then lets go of the papers to let you have them.

"My family called me Flowers growing up," you tell him as you open the wrinkled bits of paper.  There's scribbles on newspaper clippings, magazine cutouts, and a brochure from the Captain America exhibit.  "My twin -who you briefly met last week - smells like–,"

"Sunshine and cut grass," Bucky finishes for you, and you look up at him, surprised. He shrugs his left shoulder slightly.

"Well, anyway," you wave a hand in the air, "we all called him Sunny.  I'm surprised you and Steve can smell me.  Are you positive that stuff running through your veins isn't like, werewolf blood or something?" You laugh a little as you absently shuffle through the clippings.  Most of them are of Steve, and some of them are of the Avengers, images from the Battle of New York, or candid photos of them out and about. 

"Maybe the 'super' in that serum is for 'Supernatural'," you chuckle again.  You're joking, sort of, just making conversation as you read.

The scribbles along the papers are haphazardly done, incoherent thoughts written down in pen, some words scribbled out, some words not even in English.  In the Smithsonian pamphlet, there's a section on Bucky Barnes, and that has the most writing out of everything in your hands.  Questions about who he was and who he is now; no answers for either you can find.  It's silent as you read his incoherent thoughts, and then you look up at Bucky and notice he's gone completely still.  Eyes wide as he looks down at you.

Your head tilts, "You okay?" Your eyes scan his face, and he shakes his head a little, eyes refocusing on you, blinking owlishly.

He clears his throat and swallows thickly.  A small nod.  He shifts from foot to foot.  You hand the papers back to Bucky, giving him a small smile.

“Have you seen Steve since, y’know?”  Bucky shakes his head vehemently, eyes wide again.  “Okay,” you look him up and down now, taking in his appearance.  He’s in baggy jeans, his combat boots, a hoodie a size too small, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.  His eyes look sunken and haunted, and the bags under them let you know he probably hasn’t slept in a week.  His cheeks are shallow, making his cheekbones and jawline stand out more, his hair is greasy and stringy.

"He could probably help you more than I could," you mumble.  But you're sure he's heard you. His head tilts to the side.

“Come back to the Tower with me,” you blurt out.  Giving him a hopeful look.  Bucky makes a noise of protest, shaking his head no at you.  “It’s just me, Tony is out of town, and so is Bruce.  No one will see you or even know you were there.  You can shower, and I’ll get you fresh clothes.  Maybe something to eat?  You can sleep. It looks like you need it,” Your words come out quickly, trying to persuade him to come with you.

Bucky’s left arm whirs, his fists clenching and unclenching.  He worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment.  A heavy sigh leaves him out his nose, and he drops his head, chin to chest, and he gives a small ‘ok’ before he looks back up at you.  You beam up at him, a big smile on your face, and he tries really hard not to return it.

You grab his metal hand without thinking and pull him along to follow you, a spring in your step as you go.  On the way out of Central Park, you quietly talk to Bucky, telling him about your time in the Tower the last week and spending time with Tony.  He listens silently, only nodding along when you look up at him, your hand still holding his.

-*-

When you reach the Tower, you go down an alley instead of to the front doors.  You bring the watch up into view and tap it twice.

"Hey, J, I'm gonna need the back entrance.  And be discreet."  There's a small chime of affirmation and the metal doors a few feet from you click, and you open them.

The doors lead into a hallway, vacant and sparsely lit. There's an elevator bank not too far, and you hit the call button. Within seconds, the doors open, and you pull Bucky inside, hit the button with your floor, and wait. 

Bucky's silent as you both ascend, his eyebrows drawn together like he's thinking, staring blankly at you.

When the elevator chimes next, the door opens, and you pull Bucky behind you. The elevator is on the opposite side of the room of ones you usually take.

Bucky is tense as you lead him through the space. He's taking everything in as you bring him to a set of doors and push them open.  It's a large bathroom, dual vanity with a counter to ceiling mirror, bright lights that dim a little, a walk-in shower big enough for Hulk, and a giant stand-alone tub. You let go of Bucky's hand as you flit around the room, pulling soaps and shampoo from a cabinet, fluffy gray towels from another.

You set the water to hot, pouring in a lavender soap that bubbles up and fills the room with a sweet scent.  Then you put the towels into a basket, the warmer turning on as soon as you close the lid.

When you finally turn towards Bucky, you can see his shoulders are tense. He's looking down at his feet, hands clenched into fists at his side.  You step up to him and put a hand on his. He looks up at you with wide, frightful eyes. 

You give him a small smile, "it's just us here, James.  You can take all the time you need.  I'll bring you fresh clothes in a minute," you step back and close a partition that separates the tub from prying eyes. 

"If you need me, I'll be right outside.  I'll hear you," you give him another smile and go to leave.  You hear him give a quiet 'thank you', and you close the door.

-*-

Bucky had spent a long time in the bath, at least an hour after you brought him a new change of clothes.  He probably needed it more than he thought.  You could hear his audible sigh of relief when he did sink into the hot water beneath the bubbles, and it brought a smile to your face.

You were rearranging the couch cushions and blankets when you smelled the fresh scent of woodsmoke, mint, and now lavender come into the room.  You stood and faced Bucky as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders pulled up tight by his ears.

The jeans you gave him were a little snug but fit him better than the others. A borrowed red Henley from Bruce was a tight fit, but you doubt Bucky would fit into anything else. The plain zip-up hoodie you found was gripped tight in his left hand, the same combat boots adorn his feet.

Bucky stood awkward in the living space, eyebrows drawn together as he stared at you. He was as big as a bear but somehow made himself seem small under your gaze.

"I made sandwiches," you tell him, gesturing to the coffee table behind you.  He perks up a little bit, eyes bright. He takes a hesitant step forward and then another until he's standing at the end of the large couch.  You take a seat in the middle of the blankets you just arranged, feet tucked under you as you wait.  When he doesn't make a move, you pat the cushion next to you, giving him a reassuring smile.

Bucky sits rigid next to you, hands balled into fists on his knees.  You grab a sandwich and one for him, too. He takes it from you with a small nod and waits for you to start eating before he does the same.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a sound that chokes, a sound of held back elation. And before you know it, he's finished the sandwich before you could take another bite.

His waterline is wet when he looks over at you, and you hand him your sandwich and grab another one.

"You can eat as much as you want," "There's plenty of food," you tell him between chews.  He's had two more before you could finish one, and it makes you chuckle.

-*-

You were warm. The last thing you remember was being content and sleepy.  Now you were warm and wrapped in your blankets and something very, very warm.   You don't remember Shifting, but you feel it as you come back to consciousness.  You purr and lazily lift your tail in a slow wag.  There's a hand that runs over your head and down your neck, over your shoulder blades, and repeats the ministrations again.

Your eyes blink open, and you're met with steel blue ones.  You're both encased in your blankets, laying down and your head on Bucky's chest, his left arm behind his head, and flesh hand buried in your fur.  The longer you look at him, the pinker his cheeks become.

You yawn loudly and stretch, plopping your head back down on his chest and licking your chops.  There's a small smile pulling the corner of his lips, and he ruffles your head so much your ears flop back and forth.  A half yawn half growl leaves you, and you put your paw on Bucky's face, and he laughs.  He laughs loud and full, and it makes you pause, head tilting to the side, and ears flop over as you stare at him.

He looks back at you, a smile still on his face, "What?"  You yip, paws coming down on his chest playfully, then leap from the couch and trot around the coffee table.  You bark louder, and Bucky sits up, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. He lifts a hand, and you bring your head under it for him to pat.

"It's easier for me to talk when you're like this," he says quietly.  You vaguely remember soft rumbles of his voice in your ear while you slept.   "I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone.  Well-" he shrugs a little, "half a conversation."  His eyes go distant for a moment, then they focus back to you, and Bucky sighs.

"You should hate me," he drops his hand back to his lap and looks away from you.  "After what I did to your family.  What I've done to countless others since then."  

Part of you agrees with Bucky. You tried to hate him, wanted to hate him.  Maybe somewhere deep inside you, you do hate him, the Winter Soldier, at least.  But there’s no more blind rage when you think of the man in front of you now.  Not the rage your brother feels towards him, or the anger Leon feels at you for protecting Bucky, even after all he did.

You realize he’s still talking, but he's staring down at his hands as they wring together.  Bucky’s head is down, his long hair falling into his face hiding his eyes from view.  You can smell the sorrow on him, his sweet mint scent gone stale, the woodsmoke he smells like turning to burnt charcoal.

You whine, placing your head on top of Bucky’s hands, and he grabs your head, burying his fingers in your fur.  He heaves a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, Petal,” he mumbles and runs a hand over your head.

There’s a buzzing from the coffee table, and you jerk your head over to see it, Tony’s name flashing across the screen, and your tail wags on its own.  You tug one of the blankets off the couch and cover yourself with it as best you can before you Shift.  When you do, you bring the blanket up around your shoulders and hide your body as much as you can before you pick up your phone. 

You're smiling when you answer, sitting down next to Bucky on the couch.

"Hi," you breathe out, adjusting the blanket around you more.

"Hi, pretty girl," Tony's voice comes through the phone.  "Sorry to call so late."

And you realize it's dark out, the lights of the city below shining like stars as you look out the windows.

"Oh," you look at Bucky, who just shrugs. "I didn't even notice, I was Shifted most of the day."  He hums on the line. You hear him scratch his goatee through the phone.

"Isn't it also really late for you, too?" You ask him.

"Guess I'm still on New York time," you can just imagine his shrug, and then. A tiny spark goes up your spine.  He must be touching the mark on his neck.

"Tony," you warn. And then the tingling stops.  He clears his throat and chuckles.

"I uh, was just calling to let you know I might not be home in time for the full moon," he sounds a little sad.

You get up from the couch and grab your discarded clothes, and make your way to your shared bedroom, giving Bucky one last glance before disappearing down the hall.

"That's ok, love.  I've spent plenty of full moon's by myself," you say as you get dressed.  Peering down the hall, you can see Bucky still on the couch, "I've um - James is here."

It's silent for a minute, and you think maybe Tony hung up, but then there's a heavy sigh in your ear, and you worry if you've upset him.

"Yeah, I know." 

Oh. "I couldn't leave him.  Not when he's so lost."

"I know."

You kind of wish he'd shout or get frustrated.

"I'm not upset with you, Poppy.  I may not feel the same, but I trust your instincts on things I couldn't even comprehend.  So if you need to do this, I trust you."

You smile, a little teary eyed, as you make your way back to Bucky.

"Maybe call Spangles, and let him know his childhood crush is sleeping on my couch, yeah?" Tony half jokes.

You hum, “I’ll talk to him about it,” you say as you sit on the couch.

Tony hums this time, "Call him, Pops, he deserves to know.  I'll see you soon, ok?" 

"Yeah, alright."

"Love you, Popsicle." 

"Love you too, Tones."

It's quiet for a while after you hang up the phone.  Bucky is in your nest of blankets, his metal fingers pressing and picking at the callouses on his flesh hand.  You're sure he heard your conversation with Tony. He hasn't looked up from his hands since you reentered the room.

"James -"

His eyes cut to you, and you swear they shine, lighting up in warning. Just a flash; if you blinked, you would have missed it.

"James, I think Tony might be right," you start again.  Bucky shakes his head.  "He can help you better than I ever could.  He understands. You just need to trust him." 

You reach over and place your hand on top of his, and he looks over at you again.

"I don't even know who I am most of the time," he whispers.  "How can I face him after-" You squeeze his hands in assurance. 

"We can take it all one step at a time," you say quietly.  There's an itch under your skin, and you shudder.  Your phone lights up, and there's a winking emoji under Tony's name, and you curse him under your breath. 

"One step at a time," Bucky repeats, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

-*-

AN: I really wasn’t sure where this was going anymore, so I just said fuck it and just letting whatever comes to me and writing it down. Thank you for reading!!

[ffiamgoku]

Working on an X-Men and MCU crossover fic (blending X-Men elements from the live action films and comics/animated lore). And have been re-reading some 80s era issues that are Kitty Pryde-centric, and decided to use Bella Ramsey as Kitty's in-fic face claim. It's a thought I've had before, and one I couldn't pass up using for the fic.

(also, not supposed to be an intentional TLOU-HBO connection XD But I also pictured Kaitlyn Dever as Rogue, and her role in 'Justified' was a strong reason why) And yes, Rogue has the borrowed/absorbed powers from Carol.

The fic is set during the events of 'Captain America Civil War' and revolves around Logan and his gaggle of adopted kids/sidekicks, as well as other adjacent characters. And will lead into Logan and Bucky's past friendship during the war. It however is not friendly to Steve, or Wanda.

[batondecannelle]

Wanted: One Night’s Sleep

Bucky scrolls through the forum, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. It’s full of hopeful posts from alphas and omegas looking to make discreet connections without commitment. He frowns, only seeing people reaching out for casual sex. Not exactly what he's looking for. His hands shake nervously as he begins typing up his own post.

white_wolf: Looking for a companion to make the lonely nights easier. Not interested in casual sexual encounters- just tired of sleeping alone. Willing to provide financial compensation, transportation, anything for the right person. Message me to discuss details.

He hesitates for a beat, and then posts it.

***************

Sophie brow furrows when the new post pops up at the head of her search.

“Tired of… sleeping alone?” She murmurs to herself, her eyes scanning his words curiously. It’s not often she sees requests like this one. The men on this site are usually just looking for a quick hole to stick their knot in, not a cuddle buddy. She frowns, reading the post again.

Financial compensation, transportation, all that just for… a sleepover? She thinks skeptically. Still…  Rent’s coming up, and she could definitely use the extra cash. It would be a lot easier than most of the jobs she found through this site.

This has to be too good to be true,” she mutters, clicking on his blank profile anyways and drafting a response message.

cuddlebunnyy: hi, I saw your post. you really just want someone to sleepover? no funny business?

white_wolf: I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe, but yes.

cuddlebunnyy: most guys expect a little more than that, especially if they’re paying for it

white_wolf: Well I don’t.

cuddlebunnyy: interesting

cuddlebunnyy: how much are you willing to pay?

white_wolf: I was thinking this for the first night, to see if we’re a good fit. Then we can discuss where to go from there.

Sophie’s jaw drops, her glued to the number on the screen. He was offering how much just for her to come over and spend the night?

cuddlebunnyy: are you serious?

white_wolf: Are you?

*This is the first chapter of my Bucky fic “Wanted: One Night’s Sleep” ! The whole thing is on Ao3 (@regis_emmy) if you want to read more :) 

[lynlee494]

The glaring mistake in Bucky Barnes’s plan so far, named Tony Stark, had for sure already alerted Clint and Natasha...

...and sure enough Clint does get a panicked call from Tony, who has to repeat himself twice and send the security footage before the archer can believe that Bucky Barnes had just killed two members of the Avengers. Clint swears he sees something there, and Clint Barton makes the choice to stay and try to persuade his friend to come with him to get help.

Clint thinks he knows where at least some of this mess may have started...

Stroking Bucky’s back in repetitive circles after clearing his airway, Clint had done for Bucky what Coulson used to do for him. Told Bucky where he was over and over as he heard the team over the comm – with all of them having sounded absolutely wrecked. Iron Man was out after Hulk, and the rest sounded physically unharmed.

So Clint had just sat there and wiped the sweat soaked hair out of Bucky’s face, and when Barton found himself at a loss for words he just began again from the beginning:

"I’m your friend. You are an Avenger, you are one of us. We had cold pizza for breakfast. You loved it."

[crushedbyhyperbole]

The Pen is Mighty

Summary:   Bucky goes to therapy where his shrink encourages him to write a letter to help acknowledge and sort his emotions and thoughts.  (First person narrative from Bucky’s POV.)

Words:  ~1.8k

Note:  I wrote this before TFATWS was even a thing.  It’s set after CACW and I totally ignore that Infinity War ever happened.  This is part 3 of the Muscle Memory series with Bucky and OFC Dr Veroinca Edwards (though she’s not present in this fic).   I wanted to show how some of Bucky's thoughts changed as he progressed through the exercise. The way he moved on a little from blaming himself to acceptance, how he started to acknowledge his real feelings for Veronica and how he progressed through the stages using different names for her.

Bucky’s “letters” are in bold block quotes.

Warnings:  Angst, emotional hurt, Bucky is in therapy, past trauma, guilt.  It has to be said that I’m not a therapist nor indeed have I been to therapy so none of this is accurate therapy stuff.

Main Masterlist

Sunlight permeated through the vertical blinds of Dr Daniel Rodriguez’s office.  It was too bright and cheery for my liking, not very fitting at all for my mood.

I felt like an open wound that had been stuffed with broken glass and salt.  I was a raw nerve, feeling everything and trying to feel nothing.  It was all so impossible.

Dan had helped me get back a lot of my memories from before HYDRA, and the words.  He worked with me all the while I was in Wakanda and was one of The Avengers’ go to emotional support team.  We had weekly sessions but this one was an additional meeting.

Steve had made it clear he would book me in for a session if I didn’t go, but I had called the shrink myself anyway.

“I want you to write a letter.”  Dan had told me at the beginning of our session.  “It could be to yourself as a way to start forgiving yourself and help sort some of those emotions out.  Or it could be to someone who you maybe want to get some things off your chest to.  No one but you needs to see it if you don’t want to.  One step at a time.  But to acknowledge the things you feel is to take a step in the direction of a solution.”

So there I sat, at the table in the too bright therapy room, with a pen and an empty page in front of me.

What do I say?  I needed to apologise for starters, but how.

Just write anything.  Unburden your brain.

Ok, here goes.

Dear Dr Edwards,

I’m writing to you because my shrink says it’s a good idea to help me process my trauma and deal with some of the things I been feeling lately.

Nope.  No good.

Dear Veronica,

I’m writing to apologise for what I did to you during your assessment.  It was wrong of me to take it too far and I’m sorry that I hurt you.

I don’t know why you don’t like me but I accept that we’re not going to be friends.  Maybe we could call a truce instead?  I’ve

No good either.

Dear Ronny,

There are some things I want to say to you but obviously I don’t know how.  It’s like there’s a knot inside that twists and aches.  I don’t know what it is but it’s not like the trauma stuff PTSD.  I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry.  I saw the reports and hate myself for what I did.  You won’t forgive  I won’t ask you to forgive me but please know I’m struggling with the guilt deeply sorry.

We don’t really get along and I know that’s my fault.  I only ever seem to break things but I think that’s maybe because I feel like I don’t deserve better.  I know you’ve tried to help me but for whatever reason I was unable to accept it.  I’m sorry for that too.  You don’t owe me anything but I appreciate all the things you have done, with the arm and all that.

Look, I’m not very good at

When we first met, I felt we had a connection but I’m not good for people so I pushed you away

Tony wants to send me back to Wakanda

When I overheard you saying to Wanda that you thought we had a connection I was

When you told Wanda that you’d studied me, it made me feel angry.  I’d hoped I was more than just a project not just a project.  I’ve been trying to become less subhuman and to be more myself.  It’s taking time.

When you and I met, I wasn’t equipped for the kind of friendship you were offering that we may have had, and now that I am ready it’s too late.  I wish I hadn’t pushed you away.  I wish that I could take it all back but I can’t.  No matter how you feel about me I have to tell you that I don’t hate you, you just make me uneasy.  It’s not your fault, it’s mine.  You’re a strong woman, confident and beautiful. If I'm honest with myself   You’re a little intimidating.

I can honestly say that I don’t dislike you, if anything it’s the opposite.  I like you a lot and that is something I shouldn’t feel.  Everyone tells me that I deserve happiness but I don’t see it that way, I guess that’s why I pushed you away, because I was scared that you could give me that but I thought maybe you wouldn’t feel the same I don’t know if I’m worth all of that.

Nope.  Can’t do this.

I scrunched the letter up and tossed it in the waste basket.

Dear Tony,

There are no words in any language that are good enough to say how sorry I am for

Ahh fuck!

I scrunched that one up too and it joined the first in the trash.

Dear Bucky,

You’re an asshat.

Pull yourself together.  You’ve got a great chance of getting your life back together and if you can’t get a grip on yourself you’re going to fuck it up like everything else.

You were a victim of some

Don’t get stuck in your own head

Listen, punk.  You’ve been through some tough times.  You’ve known torment far worse than most and you survived.  You came through the other side, not without scars, but you made it through.  You’re stronger than this but not just that

It’s ok to be vulnerable.  It’s ok to hurt.  There’s no weakness in accepting help or asking for it.  There’s no weakness in saying that you’re a victim.  There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging things were out of your control, and accepting that they happened.  They weren’t your fault and you should forgive yourself.

You’re not alone and you don’t have to pretend like you want to be alone.  Don’t be afraid to let people in.  Don’t be afraid to cry.  Don’t be afraid of yourself, you’re not a monster.  Every day you spend crippled by your fear is another day that they win.  Don’t let them win.

No matter what you’ve done in their name, you didn’t choose it.  No matter how they broke you, it didn’t end you.  No matter how you feel about yourself, it doesn’t have to be that way.  You deserve

If I could give you 1 piece of advice it would be this:  Forgive yourself.  Choose happiness because you deserve something good in your life.

And for everything you think you’ve done wrong… I forgive you.

Sincerely yours,

A friend.

I wrote as if I was giving advice to Steve if he’d have been in my shoes.  It was oddly liberating, thinking of my situation from the outside.  I’d never really thought about it like that before, and how it would feel to watch my best friend go through all of this fucked up shit.

My eyes stung with withheld tears and my chest burned.  It could have been indigestion I suppose but…

Quit the jokes.  I told myself sternly.

It hurt.  That was the bottom line.  And everyone around me had a little share in that hurt.  Watching from the side-lines was in no way the same as living it but if anyone understood what I was going through it was the people here at Avengers central.  The collective trauma here in this compound was staggering.  My own adding significantly to the substantial pile of baggage that these guys left at the door.  Except I carried mine with me like a fucking pack mule.

The fear would probably always still be there but I could work on it.  Take steps.

“How’s it going?”  Dan had returned with two cups of black coffee.

“Alright, I guess.”  I waved the paper in front of me.  “I wrote stuff.”

He laughed; a quick and light chuckle.  “That’s good.”  He set a cup down on the table by my hand.  “If and when you’re ready to share it you go ahead and let me know.”

“Knock yourself out, man.”  I slid the page over.

He read slowly, pausing over some of the words, then he smiled big.  “Oh we’re forgiving poor old Bucky now are we?”

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood a little, and it kinda worked, making me less self-conscious.  I nodded, giving a slight thin-lipped smile.

“Good.”  Dan clapped his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze.  “I think it’s about time he at least told himself it was possible.”

I can’t say that I felt unburdened but, having wrote a few things down and started thinking about them less abjectly, it at least gave names to some of the things I felt.   Most of it was guilt.  That one was easy.  But there were others in there that I was unused to feeling, ones that had almost been tortured out of me by HYDRA.  My friendship with Steve bridged the two lives I had occupied and rooted him in the one I had now.  The other Avengers, I had a kind of camaraderie with that was reminiscent of my days with the howling commandos; it was something I could draw on.  But the other feelings, they were corrupted by the emotional poison the HYDRA conditioning left behind.

Realising that made me think that maybe the negative feelings I felt about the good Dr Edwards hadn’t started off like that.  Not Like my friendship with Steve but something a lot more dangerous.  I liked her.  I could say that with confidence now I’d been able to label that uneasy feeling as fondness.  It was something that would leave me vulnerable, so I’d dealt with it the only way I knew how; I’d shut it down and treated it with hostility.  Truly a soldier inside, I’d protected myself against that perceived weakness.

It might be too late to change any of that but it wasn’t too late to try not to make it any worse.  I would talk to Veronica, soon.  But for now my courage against the inner darkness was waning, I was just about done pushing the boundaries of my emotional analysis for one day.

There were a few more minutes left in my session with Dan.  He talked about how terrible my handwriting was for someone who went to school in the roaring twenties and thirties, while I sipped the hot coffee and watched the sunlight through the blinds.  It warmed a little spot somewhere inside that I had forgot existed.  Maybe I’d go sit on the roof later and get some sun.  It looked like it was going to be a decent day after all.

[burberrycanary]

For the fic commentary game...I want to ask about so many lines, but ok. I've narrowed it down to three from Lost Vocabularies..., so you can pick—I'd be so interested to get your author's commentary on any (or all) of them! 💛

He will never forget nine months of stock prices from 1950.

(this is the one I'm probably least likely to get an answer to, which is fine, but I'm so very curious about what Steve did during those months in the past, and a girl's gotta try! 😜)

2. But he sure as hell doesn’t want them back, not so long as Bucky is willing to carry them, whatever they mean to him now—though Steve doesn’t like to think how Bucky must have found them and when.

(Basically, I just like to make myself sad about Bucky Barnes, so hey: talk to me about the dog tags!)

3.

“Why were you always signed up for something? You already took more vocational classes than about anybody.”

[…]

“Trying to impress my dad,” Bucky admits on a slow breath out. “But not in the way he wanted. ‘One of the laborin’ Barnes with a proper education,’ he liked to say. ‘Bastards won’t know what hit ‘em.’ He wanted me to live out that better American life he was chasing. Be respectable.” Bucky gives a faint dry laugh. “Sorry Pops.”

(I know this is more than one sentence...but I'm just endlessly fascinated by Bucky's (and Steve's) pre-war life and especially Bucky's relationship with his parents and how he feels about them now, after everything. So, if you'd be willing to elaborate on that snippet up there (I'm particularly intrigued by But not in the way he wanted), I'd be ecstatic!

(📦&🧼&◼&⬜-🔪)

2. But he sure as hell doesn’t want them back, not so long as Bucky is willing to carry them, whatever they mean to him now—though Steve doesn’t like to think how Bucky must have found them and when.

Crying into our beers over Bucky Barnes should be the name of our band. 😭🍻😭

The dog tags were such a distinctive element in TFATWS that I knew I wanted to use them in this post-Endgame fix-it series that ended up sprawling out to a bigger scope than I originally intended. But the first question from canon to consider is: whose dog tags are they, anyway?

In the surgery flashback from CATWS, we see that Bucky is no longer wearing his dog tags, which means they were taken away by Hydra. And this makes sense since Hydra was starting the process of completely stripping away Bucky’s identity. What Hydra does with Bucky’s dog tags depends on what kind of organization Hydra is, culturally and administratively. While you could write any number of stories here, especially since Bucky, as a specific known recovered asset, isn’t what the Japanese scientists in Unit 731 called “maruta” (“wooden logs”) or what the CIA-run black sites in West Germany under Project Bluebird called “expendables,” you could argue that Zola might keep Bucky’s dog tags for any number of reasons: spite, gloating, pride, or a perverse attachment to his greatest success. But the most rational course of action would be to destroy anything that could identify Bucky as a well-known American soldier—because this era of American history shows you could get away with not just murder but crimes against humanity as long as you played by certain bureaucratic rules. And this is the organization that Peggy Carter built, canonically, and the era that Steve returns to in Endgame—"the dark and bloody heart of the twentieth century [that] beat and maimed all the unsteadiness out of Bucky’s hands long ago." 

I’d argue these aren’t the dog tags that we see Steve wearing when he wakes up in the fake recovery room, which would have been replaced as part of the attempted deception, but instead the ones that he was wearing when he went into the ice, which would’ve been returned once the jig was up: 

Hanging around Bucky’s neck on a bright beaded chain are tarnished dog tags with the raised text turned, here and there, the pale green of copper eaten away by time.

I’ll admit I did look up the composition of WWII dog tags and scanned through some research papers on the corrosion levels in metal equipment used in the Arctic before deciding that I could just take a little literary license here and have Steve’s old dog tags be thematically “tarnished,” which in the text is explicitly tied to the theme of things being transformed over time, but the word also carries the connotation of something that’s sullied. For the dog tags, both meanings hold. 

My backstory headcanon is that Sam, who was the executor of Steve’s will and his chosen next of kin, invited Bucky to go through Steve’s surprisingly few personal effects for anything he wanted to keep before Sam donated the rest to museums. All Bucky took was the last, unfinished, mostly empty, little notebook and Steve’s old dog tags, which he restrung on a new chain. That’s it. That’s what Bucky is left with as a stranger in this strange land of the present. 

In the first glimpse Steve gets near the end of Still Left with the River, he interprets Bucky wearing his old dog tags as indicating that Bucky never stopped caring about him, which is true—Bucky kept on caring a whole hell of a lot. This is Steve’s “it taught me to hope” moment in the text that helps push him toward being honest with Bucky about how he feels after several decades of alternating between pining and grieving, pining and grieving. How many times has the worst already happened between them?

There is always an end to the line where the same big black pit is waiting. And eventually Bucky won’t crawl back out.

But the dog tags are deliberately ambiguous as a symbol, since they equally represent the grief that we see Bucky struggle with in TFATWS. They are Bucky’s chosen gesture of mourning when Steve buries himself in the past. It’s telling that even after Steve returns, Bucky doesn’t take the dog tags off or offer to give them back to Steve again. Whatever they mean, they’re Bucky’s now. And Bucky on some level continues to mourn a faith between them—ineffable and up to that point mutually committed to despite the worst the world could do—that Steve broke when he decided to go back to the past and which returning doesn’t unbreak. Because that’s the problem: “Time only moves in one direction.”

(“There’s a creepy stone somewhere that says otherwise.”

“Exactly.”)

Significantly, over and over, these fraught identification tags are described as occupying the space between Steve and Bucky:

Tipping Steve’s chin up with his thumb, Bucky kisses the blazes out of him while the old dog tags swing a little on their glinting new chain in the space between them.

How Steve left is still very much between them throughout this whole series. 

The scene where the dog tags are revealed as Steve’s is significant:

...Steve’s old dog tags swinging in the space between their bodies; then the warm tender weight of Bucky’s forehead, pressed just off-center against his chest, overlapping with the light touch of metal and the pooling chain; [...] Bucky pressed close, and his face hidden.

The contrary actions of Bucky pressing close but still hiding is how Bucky has chosen to deal with the complicated emotional situation Steve has put him in—the combination of intimacy and distance that shades through most of this series. Bucky is trying to both protect himself and give Steve a good-faith chance to do better. Bucky’s strength and generosity win out in the end, because that’s who Bucky is at heart: the bigger person in a way that has nothing to do with being tall or strong or healthy. But part of the problem of any post-Endgame fix-it is that no one fight or confession or “being shoved in a closet together” shortcut could solve these emotional sticking points. 

Steve really did that. Whatever his reasons or motivations, which this series digs into a lot in the subtext, in the moment Steve meant it. And there’s no way to undo the choices that have been made, not without recourse to an ethically flawed concept that’s the opposite of living: because trying to undo past losses is exactly what Endgame gets wrong by attempting.

Fuck Endgame: the only way out is through. And by “through” I don’t mean Steve passively playing white-picket-fence house with Peggy through the ugly back half of the 20th century and then getting some sort of science-fiction second chance for a life with Bucky, once all that’s over. That’s doubling down on the flawed ethics of Endgame.

Life is a process of making choices, over and over. And living with the consequences. How you live with them is another ethical choice you get to make, over and over. That’s the constant and inescapable ethical action inherent in being alive.

This series is deliberately full of minor characters with losses just as profound as Steve’s: loved ones gone, former ways of life lost, all the small gathered-together pieces that we each painstakingly build into a life vanishing, whether bit by bit or calamitously all at once:

Her face lights up. “Thanks, I make them myself. I’m thinking of going to fashion school, maybe. Textile design. I’ve already died—fuck being scared, right?”

Between war, the Blip and the Return, she has lost every member of what was once a huge family. And life just keeps going on.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Fuck being scared.”

Or:

“Been walking since Greenwood Cemetery. I can’t get to where any of my people are buried so you know what I’ve decided?”

Steve gives a hum, meaning what’s that?  

“I’ve decided to collectivize. Every grave on earth with the first name George is my boy’s. I’ve claimed every Elizabeth—in all forms—and Rachael, Robert and Joseph. Never cared for my husband’s people so I don’t bother with them. But I’ve got some favorites down in Greenwood picked out for my boy. ”

“I’m sorry for your losses,” Steve says, quiet, and thinking briefly of his own most recent dead. He doesn’t add, I know what it’s like to let grief triumph over reality. “So you visit.”

“Every day that I can. Lots of graveyards in this city. But Greenwood is nice. All the flowers and so forth.”

This is a story about grief.

Steve is trusted with great power to help set right wrongs the Avengers did during Endgame, setting all these other timelines on roads to destruction to save their own. And in the face of the temptation of that great fantastical power: the possibility of easy facile answers to unsolvably hard problems about change and loss so many people equally have to confront and hurt over and struggle with—all the time, right now, forever, constantly—Steve Rogers falters:

Preemptive—that idea is never going to seem right to him. But isn’t that what he’d tried to do when he’d stayed in the past? Get the preemptive good life by side-stepping the possibility of more loss? Because, for him at least, one way or another everything that mattered would have already happened.

And still the same old story at the bottom of whatever idealized notions got papered over top: trading other people’s lives for your own security.

He’ll never know whether, if his plan had worked, he would have stayed in the past for good.

And now he’s got to live with that.

If the dog tags in this story stand for anything, it’s living with the consequences.

You can make mistakes. We all do, individually and collectively. But there’s no undoing the past—not even in the MCU’s confused theory of the multiverse. All you can try is to do better: to make right what’s been put wrong as much as you can; or find things that are good and help them be better for more people.

There are deliberately four apologies offered in Lost Vocabularies: two from Bucky and two from Steve. But this is the climactic and closing apology that echoes the same language used to introduce the dog tags into the narrative: 

Pushing Bucky back, he touches the tarnished dog tags where the raised text has turned, here and there, the pale green of copper eaten away by time.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, meaning a whole lot.

Bucky’s response, “We got here,” deliberately sidesteps the question of forgiveness and is designed to be read in two ways. The first reading challenges the relative significance of the past—we reached here however that happened—while the second rejects the past more completely: all we actually ever have is right now.

The thing is, Steve has been angry his whole life and he’s trying so hard to be a little more grateful for a change. 

He’s been doing better and he’ll keep on trying.

But there’s still just so much to be angry about everywhere he looks, from the past all the way through to this moment, burning up in front of him right now: this crawling-forward world that should be better, and isn’t, and won’t be unless people step forward to shoulder the hard slow work with no one to punch and no climactic battle you win or you lose.

This sort of work requires the splendid terrible patience of the tide eating away at a face of rock: mighty and irresistible, but wearisomely slow.

You gotta do the work. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy)

[floofweaver]

breaks my heart every time watching this scene 😭 God Sebastian Stan did such a great job

microdosing on catharsis by watching a fictional character or persona i relate to have an emotional breakdown until my chest starts to ache from the amount i've repressed

[darthbloodorange]

Birthday Picnics and Wishes

Rating: Gen Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes Warnings: None Major Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Picnics, Stargazing, Wishes, Steve Rogers's Birthday, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, POV Steve Rogers Word count: 400 - Quadruple Drabble

Summery: Steve and Bucky picnic in a secluded field to escape the 4th of July fireworks for Steve's birthday.

For the: ✦ @fandombingo - Picnic Under the Stars [B4] ✦ @fluffystevefest - Wishes [July 4: BIRTHDAY]

Read below or on AO3 >HERE<

Above them, the stars shine brightly, unobscured by a single cloud. It was beautiful.

They'd made the right decision in coming out here to escape the fireworks.

Though he'd be lying to say it was the stars alone that made tonight so wonderful.

Steve looks over at Bucky, sitting beside him on the blanket.

Bucky gives him a smile. "Another sandwich?" the man asks, reaching for the large basket of food they'd brought with them.

Steve shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good for now."

"If you say so," Bucky says, finishing off his cake slice. "So, what did you wish for?" he asks.

Steve's heart skips in his chest. "If I told you that," he says, "it wouldn't come true, would it?"

"C'mon, Steve," Bucky gives him a playful punch on the shoulder that Steve quickly returns.

"I don't know," He says after a pause, looking up at the stars, "I don't really think I believe in wishes. Not anymore."

"Why not?" Bucky asks, "We live in a world of crazy, unbelievable things. Magic is a thing. We work with Thor, the actual God of Thunder. Aliens are just a fact of life. We fight monsters. And that dragon once!" Bucky throws his arms into the air. "It hardly seems like there is much that isn't possible in the future. But a wish is where you draw the line? I don't get it."

"Maybe it is because of that," he says. "When I came out of the ice, I kept wishing... and none of it came true." Steve lets out a huff, then smiles. "I guess, I decided if I wanted something enough, I should just make it happen myself."

"I guess," Bucky says, stretching his legs out and then laying down on the blanket. "Suppose that makes sense."

Steve grabs his plate from his lap and sets it down by their basket. With the dish, safely away, Steve lays down beside Bucky.

They lay shoulder to shoulder watching the stars.

"It's worked out alright for me so far," Steve says, giving Bucky a nudge.

Bucky looks away from the stars to him. "Yeah?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah.

"I guess I might have to give it a go myself then," Bucky says, voice catching.

Steve frowns. "Buck-"

Bucky kisses him, warm and soft.

When Bucky pulls back, he chases, kissing him right back.

Maybe wishes did work. Just took a while.

THE END

[c-writes-sometimes]

New story!

Chapters every Monday for Moody Mondays with Bucky

[buckyalpine]

“My name is James Bucky Barnes and you’re part of my efforts to get forehead kisses”

(pouts adorably with big puppy eyes)