#bucky barnes fanfic funny

[lovelybarnes]

Truth- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: truth serum, ooc (its so hard keeping bucky and a truth serum in the same fic?) About: truth serum, request. (ph1+df31) Forgive for mistakes. why do i kind of hate this now

“Where’s this thing supposed to be again?”

Not missing a beat, you continue to survey the wide lab table in front of you, deft fingers careful when they tilt small vials at an angle so you can squint at the contents. “Things. Where are these things supposed to be.”

“Things, then,” Sam mutters, a fragile clinking noise following.

“Be careful,” you chirp, cocking your head at a thick tube with thick, dark liquid. You hold it up to the light, finally able to read the contents. “Whoa.”

“What?” 

“Did you know Hydra made hair nutrients, essentially? This is, like, the evil solution to baldness.”

“You’re kidding,” Sam crows, stepping closer to examine what you’re holding.

“High amounts of minoxidil, some weird fungus, and something that sounds like finasteride on steroids. Also, probably steroids.”

“Bet they could make a fortune on it.”

“If it works in a way approved by the FDA. Like I said, evil solution.” You grimace and set it back on the desk. “Did you find anything yet?”

“No. There’s slime and weird little liquids everywhere but no big-ass, weirdly-shaped tube marked deadly,” Sam grumbles, nose wrinkling as he catches sight of a limp plant. “Do you think that’s a normal dead plant? Or something freaky and poisonous?”

“Probably the latter,” you hum. “And I really, really doubt Hydra would be so stupid as to have the most cliched image of a toxin representing their mysterious poison.” You pause at a large, bumpy glass. “This one is pretty weird,” you say contrastingly, carefully picking it up with two gloved fingers. “Von innen brennt,” you read.

“What does that mean?” Sam asks.

“Burn from within.” You inhale sharply, and tuck it into your chemical storage container. “I really don’t think we should be leaving this in here,” you reason.

“I don’t think we should be leaving anything in here,” Sam adds, pointing to another bottle. “Weltschmerz,” he recites. “What’s that?”

“It’s… it’s apathy. There’s no good translation but it literally means ‘world pain,’” you frown as you grab it, too, twisting it in your fingers. “Bruce and I are going to have a field day.” You tuck it inside the container and purse your lips. “In a morose way.”

Sam shoots you a quick look. “Right.”

You bring your index to your ear and connect to Bucky’s channel. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I fuckin’ hate Hydra.”

“Yeah, it’s not great over here, either. We still have that huge lab to check over; are you done with yours?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

You confirm, scanning the room once more and sighing softly. “Be careful, okay?”

“I am.”

“Then continue,” you quip, narrowing your eyes at a fat bottle with a tiny opening, translucent candy red sticky inside of it. You poke it to teeter so you can see the label, seeing something unintelligible but missing the necessary ideogram. “We’re not even sure what this stuff is yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out the moment you see it,” Bucky comforts. Your face heats up, lips pulled to one side as you avoid Sam’s raised eyebrow.

“Right,” you mumble, straightening up. “Uh, we should probably head over there now.”

“Right,” Sam parrots, long and curved with a smile.

You shoot him a look over your shoulder as you walk out, disconnecting from Bucky before responding. “Shut up.”

“I’m not doing anything!” he argues, hands up in surrender. He follows you out chuckling.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you murmur, shooting him a final glare as you turn a corner into another dull hall. Grimly, you observe the doors you pass them, perking up when you hear familiar muted footsteps ahead.

Bucky catches your eye, lips turning up a little at the sight of you. You catch his pupils flicker down your figure once you’re closer, snagging on a darkened spot right above your right knee.

“I spilled some water,” you explain, fingers dipping unconsciously to brush against the purported area. “No harm done.”

He moves and the ruby tucked in the crevice of his thumbnail catches your eye. Like an instinct, you reach for his hand, a frown pulling on your lips as you observe the small gash on his thumb. 

“Hangnail,” he responds to your silent question, rubbing small circles into the side of your palm. “M’okay.” 

You’re pleased to affirm so, bumping his shoulder gently after you sneak a glance at Sam. “Okay. How’re you doing, hangnail aside?” 

His eyes constellate among your features and he manages some sort of comfort in his expression. “Bored.”

“Great.” Your voice is soft and pleased. He agrees.

You fall silent once again when the intended lab comes into view, Bucky’s large frame stepping half in front of you to prevent you from getting to it first. He pushes the door open before you can, left hand hovering above his weapon as he scans a room already cleared before letting you in, the same fingers that reached for a gun now grazing the small of your back.

Sam raises an eyebrow but remains silent, watching Bucky’s eyes follow you as you head toward the other side of the room to look through a multitude of vials. They don’t waver even after you spare him a reassuring glance crinkled with a tiny smile.

Quietly, he walks over to Bucky, who’s definitely aware of the movement but startles when he leans in close and taps his shoulder. “Strange man-made horror to find,” he reminds. “You can stare later.”

Bucky squares his jaw, metal fingers moving to graze uselessly along the glasses. “I’m aware, Sam.”

“Uh huh.”

It’s nearly silent then, tinged by brittle clinking and quick glances so heavy they seem loud.

Bucky is tired. Sam is tired. Most importantly, you’re tired—and it makes someone like Bucky a little careless.

He’s very sure he won’t be the one who finds the culprit matching Bruce’s description, which means he isn’t as careful as he should be when he ducks his head and inhales something so pungent it’s startling. He flinches back, making the steel shelf teeter. Both his hands shoot out to steady it, flesh fingers bending close to an undulating liquid that spills little bubbles onto his skin, burning sharply into the broken crevices of his nails.

What follows is worse. Clandestinely, a smudged window closes around his brain. It’s subtle and awful, like his mind processes become blurry and slow while outwardly remaining consistent. He keeps himself from stumbling but is sure his eyes round dismally, blinking owlishly as he struggles to catch up with himself.

It all happens in the quick span of a second before he opens his eyes and everything seems normal again, although something tugs thinly from the back of his mind. Super-soldier sanity, he guesses. He looks down at the cause and sees a match, vial open and a dizzyingly clear liquid stationary inside. A red symbol stamps the label, unnamed.

“I think I have something,” he says, cringing at how far away he sounds. Just when he feels the prickling of doubt, everything clicks into agonizingly perfect place. “This might be it.” Unthinkingly, he curves a finger around the neck of the bottle and holds it up.

“Whoa, there,” Sam warns.

You’re next to him fast, taking it away carefully.

“It was open when I found it,” Bucky supplies.

You nod at him distractedly, producing a lid from your pocket to close the beaker and observe it, thankfully protected fingers twisting it around in the light. 

“It matches the description,” he adds.

“Yes,” you mumble distractedly, half in response to him and half in thought. “This is it,” you lower it into your transfer box and grin up earnestly at him when you close it, “good job, Bucky.” It’s very sweet.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “S’what is it?”

“I’m not that smart,” you laugh.

Bucky disagrees.

“It’s probably not too dangerous. Not airborne, at least, since it was uncapped like that.” you contemplate a little more, looking back up at Bucky. Your pupils set in a way more calculating. “How close did you get to this? Did you inhale it?”

“No. I don’t think so. I smelled something, but it wasn’t that.” Bucky juts a finger behind him. “Maybe the rotted plant. Probably.” 

“Okay.” You say it rounded, edged with lightly veiled concern. “Tell me if you feel weird at all, okay?”

“Of course.”

Sam comes up from behind you, annoyed. “Okay. Are we done here? Can y’all flirt on the jet? I’m hungry.”

“You get so bitter when you’re jealous,” you bite, shooting Bucky a final, doubtful glance before tugging on his hand to leave.

“Am I so transparent,” Sam deadpans.

Bucky contemplates his strange state as he trudges back to the jet, taking quick notice of how dry his mouth has become, his tongue voluble. What he’s hazed with reminds him of oak bar tables and smoke, drunk confidence summery in his chest. He feels fine, he’s sixty-three percent sure. He thinks.

He’s in front of the jet before he can process the journey over, trying to shake away what feels like a creasing tug to his cling film mind. Your eyes are on him, and it looks like it’s not the first time, lashes kissing anxiously. Sam clambers inside, and you wait for Bucky right next to the doors.

“Are you okay?”

“Tired,” he tells you.

You’re about to respond when Sam shouts for you to hurry. Bucky scowls in his general direction, although it dissolves at your amusement.

“It’s okay, c’mon.” You guide him inside, seemingly unbothered as he follows you around like a puppy. “Do you want to take a nap on the way back?”

“Can I sleep on you?” he asks too rawly. You startle subtly with it, but recover quickly, a pale beam on your features.

“Yeah.” You smile at him, entirely saccharine. “Let me just get everything into the containment units.”

He sits in the seat next to your usual spot and stares after you as you walk away, appreciating the concentrated point of your expression as you fiddle with the storage settings.

“Maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” Sam cuts in, slumping next to him.

“I do talk to her,” Bucky argues. “I talk to her all the time. It’s just… she’s pretty.”

Sam struggles for a response for a second. “Oh-kay.”

“Do you really think I’d have a chance?” Bucky finds himself saying, unsure where his mouth has gotten permission to voice his thoughts. He clutches the suddenly few tendrils of control and tries his best to filter his thoughts. It’s too bad he can’t take things back.

Sam gapes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky forces through his teeth, feeling like he wants to puke. Unexpectedly, words feel so much easier to spill out than silence.

Lovely warmth touches his knees. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you, your presence something deftly familiar.

Up close, you’re even more captivating when he finally meets your gaze. He holds back from reaching for you, digging his fingernails into his palm to restrain them from curling around your wrist. He wants you closer.

Your sweet features furrow, sparkly eyes catching on his heated forehead and dilated pupils. “Bucky, are you okay?”

���Can I touch you?” he asks, a little desperate from gating the inclination.

“What?”

“He’s acting weirder than usual,” Sam provides.

“Bucky, sweetheart,” unauthorized, he softens at the nickname, “did you inhale anything? Do you feel okay?”

“Some of it got on me. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. It got on your skin?” You pull on gloves. “Show me where?”

He raises his right hand for you to examine, inhaling sharply when you take notice of the small gash on his thumb again.

“Okay,” you breathe, slowly and then assured. You grab his hand. He blinks. “Come on.” You say, tugging him to the sink and spraying water up to his elbow. “It might’ve entered your bloodstream, we have to wash it out. Sam, call the team, get Bruce working on exactly what it is.” You push Bucky into an isolation unit. “Probably not contagious, probably not deadly,” you mutter to yourself. “We found it nearly half an hour ago. More severe signs would have started by now.”

“It was a level three at worst,” Bucky says, but stays willingly, watching you. “It’s probably one or two. I feel fine, just… uninhibited. Reminds me of getting drunk back then.”

You shake your head, confused, edging on frantic. “Drunk?”

“It hurts to not tell you things.”

“It hurts?” You’ve never felt more helpless, only able to repeat his symptoms in an attempt to inspire some helpful memory from your research.

“More than usual.”

“Bruce says isolation!” Sam calls. “I quote: ‘There’s probably no need, but better safe than sorry.’”

“She knows!” Bucky shouts, eyes on you.

“He sounds fine. Just as annoying,” Sam chatters away to Bruce, and Bucky tunes him out, concentrating on the concerned lines of your face.

“Sam’s worried,” he thinks out loud. “So are you.”

“I am. You’re sweating, Buck.” You examine his face, fingertips bumping into the panel.

“Don’t worry,” he tries to soothe, his own fingers thumping against the separation barrier when he attempts to touch you. “If anything, this is a little bit of a relief. I don’t need Thor.”

You snort lightly. “You’re insane.”

“A little. Not stable, definitely,” he admits.

You hum lowly, biting your bottom lip, pupils quickly inspecting his features. Before Bucky can comment on it, you voice your thoughts. “Okay. I’m gonna test out a theory. I’ll ask you some questions and you just have to answer. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” he answers, then, unnecessarily: “I don’t think it would be if it were anyone else.”

You graciously ignore it, only ducking your chin. “What’s your full name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. But Steve’s right, that sounds a little snotty, doesn’t it? What do you think?”

You laugh. “I like your name. When were you born?”

“March tenth, nineteen-seventeen.” He frowns. “Damn. Just when I was reeling you in with the name thing.”

“Where do you live?” you ask, ignoring his comment.

He prattles off the address to his apartment. “Also you.”

“Me? I’m not…”

“You are,” he interrupts, glancing up at you anxiously. There’s so much he wants to tell you on the tip of his tongue, so much he doesn’t want to be forced to. Not right now. Not like this.

You catch his meaning and move on, eyes thinning accusatorily. “Are you the one who broke my mug?” 

“Yes, I knocked it off the table. But it was Sam’s fault, he pushed me into it.”

“I knew it,” you mutter bitterly, leaning back, limbs less tense. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with truth serum.”

“That’s not too bad. Considering the options,” Bucky says. “It makes sense. I feel… I want to tell you everything.”

“Effective.” 

“Thank you for not asking anything too invasive,” he says.

“I wouldn’t,” you respond.

“This shouldn’t be affecting me,” he continues. “The serum stops the effects. They must have made it stronger.”

You pause. “What?” Then, remembering his situation. “Nothing. Never mind. Do you have any pets?”

“A cat. You know Alpine, she loves you. But I know you like dogs.”

You tilt your head, wanting to ask further, but you stop yourself. “I do like dogs.”

“That’s why I’m getting you a dog for your birthday.”

You beam in surprise. “You are? Wait—”

“I keep looking but I can’t find the right one. I was thinking maybe it’d be better for you to come along, but I was supposed to think about that for a little longer.”

“Sam!” you call. “I feel like I shouldn’t be hearing this,” you confess to him, wringing your fingers in wait for the neutral party.

“No, you’re not supposed to know that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s weird it’s affecting you so much, it must be made for enhanced.”

“You figured it out?” Sam asks. 

“Truth serum, I’m pretty sure. Really strong truth serum, from the looks of it.”

“You have to leave,” Sam says immediately.

“What?” you ask, confused for what seems like the millionth time. “No. I want to stay with him.” Your face twists in concern again.

“I want her to stay with me, too,” Bucky adds.

“No, you don’t,” Sam commands. “Who knows… what you might say in front of—” he points at you, enunciating your name with an italic and a gesture. “You should leave,” he turns to you.

“You’re going to take advantage of me,” Bucky accuses.

“Have you been lying to me?” Sam questions. “I am only interested in confirming. Like: did you or did you not break Redwing two months ago—”

“Sam!” you interrupt.

“Come on. Do you know how much food has disappeared? Water bottles dented?”

“I told you that wasn’t me,” Bucky grumbles, leaning against the wall.

“That’s true. That’s what you told me, but what’s true and what you said can be—”

You glare at him. “Stop it.”

He hmphs. “Fine. I’ll settle. He owes me thirty bucks.”

“Whatever. Go make sure everything’s okay up front, I have to give Bucky some meds. Friday, did you activate isolation protocol?” She affirms as you open the door to Bucky’s unit. It’s cold when you step inside, but when you reach Bucky, he’s burning. “Bucky, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He looks up at you, pupils dark and blown. He can’t stop his hand when it lands on you, but you don’t seem to mind, leaning in close enough to his face for him to catch the little details of your face. He clears his throat. “Now I’m a little hot.”

You wipe hair from his sticky forehead, taking a small napkin from your pocket to wipe sweat from his brow. “I can see that. Friday, can you lower the temperature in here?”

“You’re gonna get cold.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you. You can’t ask me to do that.”

You stare down at him worriedly, thumb rubbing gently at his temple. There’s a hiss nearby, and three pills in a little cup stand on the table. You grab them and hand them to Bucky.

“Take these.” You point to the pale tablets, three in a single container. “They’re a precaution and the blue one,” you pinch it to show it to him, “should make this pass a little quicker.”

He takes the blue one first.

“Five minutes ago, we didn’t know what it was,” Bucky says. “You’re amazing.”

“Friday’s amazing. All I do is hand things to you.”

“You’re amazing.” 

You chuckle, observing his eyes. Purely clinical. “Okay. You are, too.”

Bucky bites his lip. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. You’re amusing me.”

You look genuinely offended. “Absolutely not.”

Bucky cracks a smile. “You have a tell.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

“It’s in your lips. You purse them a little. Like even you can’t believe yourself.”

You pinch his lips closed with your index and thumb. He stares up at you with wide, blazing eyes.

“I won’t complain,” he says, muffled.

“You should! Don’t be so nice to me, Barnes.”

“I like it better when you call me Bucky.”

“Really? Everyone on the team calls you Barnes.”

“I said you, not the team.”

You let go of him, eyes sorry. Your thumb bends, the bone tracing along his bottom lip. You’re so close. He wants to echo his realization so badly.

“You’re so close.”

“I’m sorry.” You move to take a step back.

“No,” he protests, reaching for you again.

“What?” You laugh.

“I’m in love with you.”

The very first thing he feels is great, overwhelming relief. Like something had been interfering with his breathing and his feeling and his being and it was removed.

And then came the panic, thickened with fear of the consequences of his honesty and very thinly edged with something nicer.

You haven’t moved since he admitted it, pretty features contorted in neutral shock. He wants to know you so well, he can tell if it’s good or bad.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” He gulps, wanting very badly to let go of you but unable to do so. “Does that blue pill make it a lot worse before it gets better?”

You stare at him.

“Say something, please. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t want to—I never wanted to tell you that.”

“Why?” you ask finally. Your brows are knitted, the edges of your features dipped in pain.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

You don’t say anything, but your lips part, the sorrowful border of your features softening. “I… I really want to kiss you right now.”

Bucky freezes. “What?”

Your face heats, pupils flickering away from him. You clear your throat. “But you’re in a vulnerable position right now and I don’t want to take advantage of that. I want you to tell me because you chose to.”

“You’re saying…”

“Yeah.”

Bucky really wants to kiss you too. “Why?”

“Because I think you deserve honesty.”

Bucky really, really wants to kiss you. He cracks an unfiltered smile, although it’s not entirely because of the serum. “Damn.”

“What?” you ask uneasily.

“I’m really fuckin’ lucky.’

[batcavescolony]

a MCU/Percy Jackson crossover with Bucky Barnes as a demigod. Ik your already thinking, he's a soldier so Ares obviously but he's actually a child of Aphrodite. Reasoning: before the war and when he's healed he is dressed very well. He wasn't really into war. he's never really fighting for the fight, he's fighting for someone or because he has to. He was forced to be a soldier in both instances (drafted/brainwashed). Mcu Bucky doesn't give off Ares kid vibes. So Aphrodite kid.

[haltnook]

It had actually been a gift from Tony. He had tried to refuse at first, but Tony had insisted. Apparently “Everyone has a damn phone, Jackson.” and Tony had “no other way to contact you” and didn't “feel like learning the language of smoke signals.”

The File

denimbeans

[wwilsonbarness]

still not funny

pairings:  sam wilson x bucky barnes

summary: basically a continuation of the deleted scene <3 

warnings: fluff, tinyyyyy bit of angst

word count: 1932

a/n: I love them so much and after seeing the deleted scene I just had to write this!! 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Thank you for bringing us cake uncle Bucky!” Aj shouts across the table. 

“You’re welcome boys.” Bucky responds, playfully nudging Sam with a smirk. 

“I’m still their favourite uncle so don’t go getting any ideas.” Sam says shooting Bucky a glare.

“We’ll see.” Bucky returns the same look.

“Alright, alright I’m sure the boys love you both plenty, right boys?” 

A mix of “Yep” and “Mhmm Mama” come from Aj and Cass making everyone laugh lightly. 

Bucky couldn’t help but look to his side, focusing on the smile lines on Sam’s face. The way they moved as he looked around at his family. The way his smile kept growing as Sarah and the boys speak about the activities they’re planning tomorrow. He doesn’t realise how long he’s staring until Sam turns to him, toothy grin and all. “Something caught your eye Buck?” He says, his smirk only growing. 

He blinks as Sam’s voice breaks him out of his trance. “Hm? What? No I was just-” He rambles, only stopping when Sam moves his hand towards Bucky’s arm and squeezes slightly. 

“Chill man, I’m just messing with ya.”

Bucky laughs but before he can respond, Sarah calls his name. “You staying here tonight, Bucky?” 

“Oh, I- no that’s okay. Thanks Sarah.” Sam shoots him a look of confusion and answers again for him.

“Yes, he’s staying here tonight.” Bucky looks at him and mirrors the confusion on his face. 

“Guys I really don’t mind getting a room at a motel.”

“Nonsense!” Sarah exclaims as she stands up from the table. “Boys, get ready for bed and I’ll set up the couch for Bucky.” 

“It’s okay Sarah, I’ll do it. You just chill for the night.” Sam says. He gets up to hug the boys and Sarah goodnight. Bucky does the same.

“You sure?” She asks. 

“Yeah I got it.” He says. 

“Okay, goodnight then.” 

“Night!” Bucky says as she walks away before he turns to Sam.

“You know I really don’t mind getting a hotel room Sam.” He says slightly quieter than his normal voice. He didn’t really want to get a hotel room but he equally didn’t want to impose on Sam and his family.

“Come on now, you’re part of the family now Buck, there’s always going to be room for you here.” Sam reassures him with a pat on the back. They both begin to walk up to the house and Bucky heads for the couch. 

“Hey Sam?” Bucky shouts through to the kitchen where Sam was quickly finishing the clean up from the cookout. 

“Yeah?” 

“You got a spare pillow? Maybe a blanket?” 

“Yeah, in my room, hang on.” He puts away the last bowl and strolls through. Bucky could almost see a slight smirk on his face but had no idea why. 

“You know, I can’t really be bothered going all the way up, back down the stairs and all the way back up again.” Sam groans. He had been subtly hinting at Bucky to make a move but he hadn’t caught on, so Sam decided to up the stakes.

Bucky’s a bit confused but responds anyway. “Oh umm, I can get it? Where are they?” He heads for the stairs but stops on the first step, turning to Sam to wait for his answer. 

“Or” Sam trails off. “You could just stay in my room. Beds big enough for both of us.” Sam notices Bucky’s eyes practically fall out the sockets in surprise and suddenly worries that he might’ve overstepped. 

“Oh.” Bucky clears his throat before continuing, he pushes together his thumb and index finger, a nervous tic he had recently developed. “Yeah.. I- okay. If that’s okay with you?.” Truthfully the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Sam was a lot. He hadn’t even really admitted it to himself but there were feelings there, on his part anyway. Spending time with Sam, whether it was fighting on a mission or just sitting with him on the jet made him get a funny feeling inside his chest and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Wouldn't ask if it wasn't.” Sam responds with a light chuckle. He follows Bucky up the stairs. Sam’s heart was beginning to race and he prayed Bucky couldn’t here it. 

Bucky walks into Sam’s room and looks around. He’d only ever seen it in photos and once on a video call, but it was just as he imagined. It was tidy but had loads of little trinkets around. He sees photos of Sam with Riley, his parents and a baby he assumes is Cass or Aj. There’s also a diary, it looks like it had been read a lot but it had a pen sticking out. Maybe a journal, Bucky thought.

Below the photo wall is a bottle of aftershave, he couldn’t smell it but he guessed it was the smell he had become so used to smelling on Sam. The one that he had grown so attached to recently. It made him feel silly, being attached to a smell but it also made him feel safe and that was a feeling he had been craving ever since he fell off that train in the 40’s. 

He turns to the left and sees Sam’s bed, it was covered in blankets and looked so comfy. It had been a while since he had slept in a bed, his apartment back in new york had a bed but he hadn’t once slept in it. He begins to think about whether he’ll be able to sleep okay but Sam’s voice cuts him off. 

“It’s a hard one.” 

Bucky turns around quickly and looks at Sam, he turns his head slightly, urging Sam to continue. 

“The mattress I mean. Soft beds are the worst. Ya know?” 

“Right.” Bucky says. He hated that Sam had those struggles but it  made him feel better that he wasn’t the only one who did.

Bucky goes to the bathroom first and changes into a pair of sweatpants and vest. He brushes his teeth and heads back to Sam’s room. Sam does the same but takes a little longer, he had a more detailed night routine. He changes into a pair of shorts and leaves his shirt off. He takes the time to wash and moisturise his face and walks back to the room. 

You got a side you prefer Buck?”

“By the door? If that’s okay with you?” 

“Yep.” 

They get into bed and Sam turns all the lights off, just leaving a lamp on his side table on. The room is silent but he can hear Bucky’s deep breathing. “You alright?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckles to try to hide his embarrassment but Sam notices his cheeks warming up and turn a shade of red. “Just been a while since I shared a bed with someone.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Sam asks. 

“No! God no!” He wanted to tell Sam he could never feel uncomfortable with him around but he held back. “I just.. The only time I ever really shared a bed was with a girl back in the day.” He admits with a shy grin. 

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that and he takes a deep breath before responding “Is this so different?” He can’t help but chuckle when Bucky’s eyes do that thing again, they really would fall out if it kept happening. 

“Hm?” 

“Is this so different from then?”

“Sam.” Bucky calls his name.

“Bucky.” Sam responds in the same tone.

“Do you..”

“Do I..” 

Bucky takes a breath, he knows what he wants to say but he just can’t get it out. “Do you feel this.. thing between us?” Sam really can’t help his full laugh coming out this time.

“Thing?” He asks, waiting for Bucky to say what he’s really thinking. 

“Sam, If I’ve taken this the wrong way please tell me now to save me the embarrassment.” 

“How can I know unless you tell me?” He was really gonna make him say it wasn’t he?

“Sam, I like you.” 

“I’d hope so, we are partners after all.” Sam teases, he regrets it as he sees Bucky’s face drop. 

“Right.” Bucky nods his head slightly. “Partners.” He starts to turn back and lie down but stops when he feels Sam’s hand on his arm. 

“Oh my god, you idiot! Come here.” With that, Sam pulls Bucky towards him by the neckline of his vest and plants his lips against Bucky’s. The feeling of Sam’s soft lips melting into his was one he didn't think could ever be beaten. It’s a messy kiss and both of them don’t want it to end. Bucky’s the one to pull away, needing a second to catch his breath. He pulls away only slightly and presses his forehead against Sam’s. 

Sam’s tongue comes out his mouth and licks along his lips, chasing the taste of Bucky he had finally gotten after craving it for so long. “I do.” He whispers. Bucky pulls away further and looks at Sam, urging him to continue. “I do feel that thing.” 

Bucky chuckles at that, he feels shy and hides his head in the crook of Sam’s neck for a second. He couldn’t believe he had finally gotten to touch Sam in the way he way too often thought about. 

“What took us so long?” He asks softly but it comes out as a mumble against Sam’s skin. Sam pulls away slightly and places his hands on Bucky’s face. 

“What was that?” He asks and Bucky repeats himself but can’t bring himself to look in Sam’s eyes. 

“I’d say we’ve had a lot on our plates, it didn’t exactly leave us a lot of time to be alone.” Bucky nods along, it’s true. There was always someone or something in their way. “Plus, I like seeing you flustered. It’s cute so I had to play a little.” Sam teases. 

“Hey! I was not flustered.” Bucky argues playfully to which Sam laughs at.

“Buck, I honestly thought your eyes were gonna pop out of your head when I suggested sleeping up here.” Bucky feels his cheeks heat up even more.

“How else was I supposed to react? Sleeping in your bed with you in it.” 

“Aw baby are you getting all flustered again?” 

“You’re so annoying Sam.” Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and hides his smirk.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” They look into each other's eyes for a moment before he responds. 

“Yeah, I really do.” The unspoken true meaning of their words float between them but neither of them bring them to light. 

“Alright enough swooning.” Sam teases. “As much as I’d love to look into your eyes all night, we need to sleep.” 

“Come here then.” Bucky responds, pulling Sam down towards the bed with him. He pulls Sam into his chest and lets him wiggle around until he’s comfy. Their legs tangle under the blanket and Sam rests his arm over Bucky.. “This okay?” Bucky asks. 

“Mhmm. S’perfect.” Sam mumbles. 

It’s silent for a few moments before Bucky breaks it. 

“Sam?” 

“Yeah Buck?” 

“You think Sarah is free after their plans tomorrow?”

“Buck! It’s still not funny!” 

Bucky can’t hold off his laughter.

“It will never not be funny Sam.” He speaks more softly as he continues. “Don’t worry, there’s only one Wilson I got my eyes on.” 

With that he pressed a gentle kiss onto Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes. 

“Goodnight Doll.”  He heard Sam giggle at that and it was the best sound he had ever heard, until Sam responded in his sleepy voice. “Goodnight Babe”

[thewintersoldier111]

Lmfao 😂

[punkyarabella]

You Little Minx (part two)

Summary: Mischievous (adj.): causing or showing a fondness for causing trouble in a playful way.

Warnings: obscenities

470 words

Part one

Masterlist

Bucky frowns at the frenetic knocking on his bedroom door. He is less surprised by the mischevious grin on your face when he opens the door. He's getting used to it.

"What's going on?" He has no idea about what you have planned, but he is already smiling about it.

"I found a bunch of chalk when I went grocery shopping with Natasha," you explain, your smile never faltering. As a proof, you pull out the colorful little box you were hiding behind your back. "I thought maybe you'd want to draw too?"

He squints at you. That's too tame, there has to be a twist.

"I was thinking of drawing something obscene on the parking lot ground, right outside Sam's window," you admit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip.

"There it is," he lets out a chuckle. "I'm in."

You cheer and he picks up his jacket, a small smile still stuck to his lips. He follows you outside, and you both sit on the cold asphalt. The air is nippy and smells humid, but you seem to be on a mission. Exchanging the different colors between you two, you draw a bunch of penises, some colorful insults, and Bucky signs the bottom with a "you're a bitch, Wilson".

You lean back on your knees, chuckling at the Falcon wings you just added to one of the penises. Bucky stands up, happy with his own work. Taking your hand, he pulls you up, just as a window opens two floors above you.

"You're children, guys," Sam shouts.

"You like it?" You yell with a smile.

"It's beautiful," he shrugs, "except for the parts that Barnes drew."

"Hey, fuck you," Bucky frowns.

"Anyway, it's gonna rain, so it won't stay long," Sam adds as he closes the window.

Right on cue, a drop lands on Bucky's forehead. He glances at you, but you are still smiling. You turned from the building to look at your artwork. More drops start to fall, and the colors mix in the little puddles.

"You knew it was going to rain?" he raises an eyebrow.

You glance at him and nod, "It's really pretty when the rain washes the colors away."

Bucky struggles to tear his eyes away from you, to look at the ground again. The chalk creates swirls of colors, turning the penises into shapeless blobs of rainbow. You keep watching, standing in the rain, until most of the colors are either gone or turned to brown.

"Let's get inside, you're gonna get soaked," he chuckles at the wet strands of hair falling in front of your face.

"I'm already soaked," you laugh, but follow him towards the door. "I've got some confetti to put inside the air vents of Tony's new car. Wanna help me?"

How could he say no to that?

[16woodsequ]

"Give me two characters and a word and I will write a <100 word drabble" - Tony and Bucky.

I got this ask a long time ago and finally sat down to do it! 276 words...close enough!

.

The first note Tony gets goes like this: Steve needs a scarf. It shows up in his SI mailbox and he basically raises on eyebrow at it and then discards it.

The next one is underlined. Steve doesn't like cold missions.

That gives him pause, because that means someone is paying attention to their missions. He asks around, even brings the note to Steve, but no one knows where it came from. It's correct though, Tony discovers. Which is interesting.

Notes continue like that, showing up in his office or under SI lobby doors. Eventually he gets JARVIS on the case, and the perpetrator becomes clear. A shaggy dark haired man with a bulky enough winter coat to hide the metal arm he's sporting.

Tony's first reaction is unease. He's still not okay with what happened to his parents. But he also knows that Steve is currently searching for this persistent shadow, and having no luck. Apparently, Barnes is just as concerned with Steve, even if he's more subtle about it.

After another month of tips and hints being snuck in through notes and memos, Tony makes his decision.

The media has a field day, trying to interpret what the skywriting above Avengers Tower could mean, but Tony couldn't be happier with it. COME AND TAKE CARE OF HIM YOURSELF.

Months later, after Barnes is more rehabilitated and less feral street cat-like as he'd been when he'd showed up after the message, he approaches Tony. "Thank you," he says simply. "At the time…with those notes, I didn't think you'd be comfortable with me here."

Tony sips a coffee mug noncommittally. "Yeah well, this is less annoying."

[yamirexic]

lifeguard!bucky x reader: motel 6

my inspiration for this imagine:

dare short film

overall motel aesthetic

a oneshot that got taken down (I was quite sad so I needed to fill that void)

american dad season 10, ep. 6: this indie movie episode

the last days have been quite chaotic: you stranding in a random city cause your car broke down. luckily there was a motel close by so you checked in. it was a really nice motel, the indie summer vibes not fading away. you car still is somewhere to get fixed so you need to wait in this city till it's done. but not everything is entirely bad: you've started liking the lifeguard at the motel's pool. you went to the pool everyday, enjoying the sun and maybe also the tall man with brown shoulder length hair and azure eyes, roaming over the pool's surface to be sure that nobody drowns.

you also went to the pool at night cause it was empty, quiet and peaceful. this night though, you weren't left alone. you were currently sitting at the edge of the pool, legs in the water. you have your dirty pj on since you're a bit self conscious and also just to lazy to change or care. you actually didn't notice him at the beginning since you were caught up with your thoughts and the water moving.

"can't sleep or do you just wanna relax?", you hear a smooth, yet husky voice saying. you flinch a bit and turn around to see him. "I just like the peacefulness when no ones there", you answer with a flutter in your heart. "why are you here?" "same reason. and also cause it's nice to just go for a swim without needing to take care that no one drowns." he dives into the water smoothly. he resurfaces and drags his hand through his hair. you look at him in a somewhat dreamy gaze as you breathe in the summer night air deeply. "I never got to know your name since I got here some days ago", you say after awhile. "my name is James but call me Bucky", he answers as he swooshes around the water to stay afloat. "I'm Yami", you smile at him as you can't seem to get your eyes off of him.

you two stay quiet as you exchange smiles and laughs. he dives in the pool as you watch his every move, his muscles moving, stretching, tensing and relaxing. coming back up for air, he notices that you still look at him but you don't seem to really "be there", your head in the clouds. "something on your mind Yami?", he asks as he gets closer to investigate your face. you fall out of your dreamy trance, looking away for the first time. "actually yes, I have a lot of things on my mind currently but only one thing sticks out right now", you tell him with a bit of sadness in your eyes but also bliss and peace, the motel feeling like an escape from reality, a little break that wasn't planned. "would you mind to tell me?" he is quite close to you now, looking through wet strands of brunette hair with cerulean eyes. "do you promise me not to judge?" "I won't judge you, you can trust me doll." you grin at the nickname and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I have a liking for someone but they don't know. it's also quite tough since I've broken up with my boyfriend recently, sorry for getting so dark and deep." you look at the water surface as the water carefully moves around in small waves. "a boy or a girl?" he asks, interested in your problems, looking at you with soft features. "it's a boy this time. I don't know him but I would like to get to know him but I'm worried he might find me weird and creepy since one did in my past." "I understand you completely and I know what it feels like to be humiliated or feel rejected." he said with a caring face, flashing you a soft smile. you slip into the water carefully and you both swim more into the middle of the pool. "thanks for understanding and listening." you smile as you look at him. he inches closer to you.

"I noticed you sparing me glances in the course of the last days, don't think I haven't seen you daydreaming while looking at me." he smirks a bit as you look shocked, feeling embarassed by actually getting caught. you accept it though, cause you were quite bad at hiding it. "I'm sorry for that it's just...that you're quite attractive. I'm really sorry if you felt uncomfortable by that." he pulls you closer, mere inches apart, your skin touching his. "don't worry, I don't mind.", he answers as he does something you wouldn’t have expected but have dreamed of the last nights and days: he carefully leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips slightly wet. the kiss was passionate but ended to soon. he pulled away slowly, opening his eyes, his wet lashes sticking together in little traingles. you smile at him and lean your head on his shoulder. "you feel the same or was it just to make me feel better? whatever you say, it made me happier. thank you, Bucky." he chuckles and smiles at you, caressing your wet hair. "it's both" you chuckle as well, feeling hopeful for the first time in ages, the night endulging you in it's cooler (but still hot) air.

I haven't proof-read this so sorry if I have some typos in there

[builder051]

Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies

—————-

Chasing Ghosts. Warning for drug mentions/implied drug use. Meant to be stupid and funny.

—————-

James sits at the table. He presses his cheek to its cool surface and wraps his arm around his head. He should go, he thinks. Somewhere. Not here. Or at least turn off the light.

The logical thing to do is plant himself in the bathroom and wait out his seasick headache. The thought of the bathroom sends James’s throat up to throb behind his clenched teeth. He won’t be turning off the light. He won’t be moving at all.

“It’s bad?”

Steve seems to have materialized in the kitchen. James doesn’t know how long he’s had an audience. He’d taken his hearing aids out a while ago. With his echolocation gone and his eyes hidden, James knows he’s a sitting duck. Not that Steve would ever hurt him. Well, not on purpose. He sometimes gets a little rough when administering first aid.

“Eh,” James says to the inside of his elbow. “You probably know better than I do.”

“Mm,” Steve muses. James imagines him stroking his chin in contemplation. “You have a headache and feel like you want to hurl?”

“Yeah…” James pauses to draw in a shaky breath. “I don’t know. When, I mean. If.”

“You never do know.”

There’s a scraping sound and a vibrating sensation as Steve pulls up a seat. James bites his lip. He’d rather taste blood than bile.

“I mean, I can guess. I can try to help. Hold your hair. Or a mop.” Now that he’s close, James hears the uncertainty in Steve’s voice.

“Yeah. Try consulting your magic 8 ball or something. ‘S as good as anything else.”

Steve gives a quiet laugh. “I would if I could.”

“Wait, what?” Tasha’s running up the hallway, her words going from muffled to sonorous. James pretends he doesn’t suppress an instinctive swallow. He can’t acknowledge what doesn’t exist. Logic bends as James’s head makes a particularly strong throb. He’s losing his grip on reality. He must be. Tasha awake and moving at this hour on a Saturday morning? James assumes it’s still morning. It was morning when his mild headache turned to extreme vertigo and sent him tilting toward a chair.

“Oh, hey, Tasha.” Steve says.

James forces out his own sound of greeting.

“Who has an 8 ball?” Tasha speaks quickly, tripping over her words. She’s probably on an upper already. Hopefully her very own, very legal Adderall. She has absolutely no need for cocaine.

“Nobody,” James groans. He lifts his head just enough to give his sister a scathing look. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a bathrobe that hangs far to low in the front.

“I heard you—“ Tasha starts.

“No.” James shuts his eyes and bows flat to the table again, this time cooling his aching forehead.

“It was, you know.” Steve sounds slightly embarrassed. Maybe because he won’t leave the bedroom in just boxers. Whose dignity he’s still pretending to protect, James will never ask.

Steve clears his throat and goes on. “Like, the toy kind? Where you ask it a question and shake it?”

“Oh.” Tasha’s disappointed. She recovers in a beat and says, “I had one of those once. As a kid. It was dumb. It wasn’t right about anything.”

“I was thinking about ordering one on Amazon.” Steve puts too much positivity into his tone. The man will do anything to avoid a confrontation.

“If you really want one, just give me a few bucks. I can have it by tonight.” James sincerely hopes she’s joking. Well, not joking, exactly. He hopes she won’t do it, whether to spite him or any other reason.

“That won’t be necessary.” James sees Steve’s gluey smile projected onto the backs of his eyelids.

“Might help your headache.” Tasha pokes James in the shoulder. He grunts and swallows frenetically, determined not to lose control.

“Tash…” James sighs. “Just leave it.”

“If you say so.”

Silence briefly ensues, then a cabinet opens and the sink starts running. Then the table jiggles again as Tasha joins them. She sips her water, then casually asks, “What question were you going to ask, anyway? The 8 ball?”

“Oh.” Steve laughs.

“You can tell her,” James says, then breathes deeply and focuses on the feeling of his nose squashing as he rests his forehead directly against the hardwood.

“It was, um,” Steve warms himself up. “We were going to ask, uh, whether or not James is going to puke.”

“Hm.” Tasha sets down her glass. “Well, duh. You could’ve just asked me.”

“What sayest you?” Steve gives James the floor. Which he may or may not be about to soil.

James has reached his limit. If he speaks, if he so much as acknowledges his turn in the conversation, his jaw will unhinge and everything will fall to pieces. He steels himself and clenches his abdominal muscles as much as he can. “Yeah.” It comes out in a gasp that’s probably inaudible as he takes off in a rush toward the bathroom.

[rissararity]

Me- at work:

*painters tape on closet doors out front. Maintenance said he'd be by Monday to take it off.

"That would drive me UP THE WALL, I'd have to take it down before then." I comment.

*WINTER SOLDIER THOUGHTS INTENSIFY*

"...That's not the ONLY thing that could drive me up a wall." I say quietly to myself.

[lovelybarnes]

The Thing- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: best friend bucky, i do not think it’s an au but honestly i dont know? I wrote this for fun so i made details fuzzy, innuendos. Did i check over this right im so tired About: new girl inspired. I was watching the episode with the trench coat and that fucking scen got to me like??? I had to. I started crying.

Bucky thumps around in your closet, too-long limbs making the doors shake when vibranium fingers slam against them. He grunts, followed by a disconcerting silence, only charcoaled by the metal clinking of steel hangers and heavy breaths. You purse your lips, looking up from your phone to stare at the shut doors. You can imagine him standing frozen for a glimpse of peace. Or staring at your favorite sweater, metal-finger-torn. You frown.

“Are you okay? Did you pass out?”

He huffs, more shuffling noises ensuing. “No.” Something drops to the floor.

“Pick that up!” you call when it doesn’t sound like he does.

“Why couldn’t I change in the same room? It’s cramped in here. And you’ve seen more.” He pauses and you can hear his smirk. “So have I,” he mutters pleasedly.

Your fingers reach for the closest thing and launch it at the closet. “Because the last time you did, Wanda walked in, and then Sam did, and we ended up with half of our friends staring at you half-naked on my bed.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bucky argues.

“And my closet isn’t that small,” you quip.

Your closet doors roll open, light defining Bucky’s features and catching the blue in his irises. His sweater compliments the color too nicely than should be possible. Along with it, he wears a grimace.

“What’s wrong? You look great.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” he admits, pulling at a thread.

“Starting to?” you parrot. “Agreeing?” You shove your legs to the side of the bed and stand, heading toward him. “Bucky, they had to bribe you into saying maybe. And then you insisted on staying anyway the entire time up to now.”

“I would really rather stay here with you.” Bucky leans into your touch when you settle your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.

“That’s all you’ve been doing for months,” you point out.

“And I’ve really enjoyed it,” he allays.

You laugh, fingers coming to a frustrated rest on his face. You try to come up with an argument but fail, deflating. “Me too.”

He grins. “See? I’m gonna go tell them I’m just gonna stay here to watch more horror movies with you.”

You loop your index and middle around his wrist before he can leave your room. “You know how much I love you. And how much I love spending time with you. Which is why I think you should go.” You continue before he can begin to argue. “This’ll be good for you. And me. You’re kind of annoying, you know?” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

He rolls his eyes but relents, inhaling deeply. “Fine.”

“If you absolutely hate it—”

“I will.” You glare at him.

“Then I will fully support you in never going out again.”

He perks up. “You’re my best friend. You should support me before that,” he jibs.

Exasperated, you wag a lazy finger in the air. “You’re so annoying.”

The door to your room bangs open to Sam and a slightly begrudging Steve both very dressed up. Sam has a hand over his eyes, other arm extended dramatically to search around him. “Everyone decent this time?”

You glance at Bucky.

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky groans.

He grins and claps. “So we can finally go out? Do I have to drag you out kicking? ‘Cuz I will.”

“He did,” Steve remarks further.

“No,” Bucky glowers, then gestures to you. “‘Convinced me.”

“Of course,” Sam says, turning to you with a smile. “Now, you. I love you, you know that, but tonight we’re going out to have fun. Which means,” he begins to count off on his fingers, “none of the girlfriend texts or calls you send all the time.”

“They’re not girlfriend,” you argue.

“And she can call me if she needs anything,” Bucky adds.

“But try not to,” Sam insists. “Now, let’s go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, lamely watching his friends go out the door again. He turns to you and pecks your forehead. “Call me for whatever. I’ll probably thank you if I’m not the one insinuating.”

You shove him lightly. “Have fun.”

“Love you too!” he laughs, waving once more at you before he disappears past your doorframe. It’s only a few more seconds of the guys chatting before the apartment door closes and steals away the noise with it.

You deflate, sagging onto your bed. Dazedly, your fingertips drift to your forehead, where the shadow of a kiss still warms your skin. Frustration digs its nails into your arm and your hand fists, eyes squeezing closed. There’s the sticky rush of tears in the back of your throat and you groan loudly, but it’s obstructed and thin.

You pop an eyelid open when something else catches your attention, squeezing your lips closed to focus on the thin, chalkboard scratches further away. You sit up and stare out your door for a second, before realizing it’s coming from the front door.

“Bucky couldn’t have backed out by now,” you mutter, reasoning that he could’ve forgotten something when the noise suddenly stops. “Huh,” you quip. He must’ve found it.

You sigh again, at least satisfied that the sudden burst of emotion had passed. Deciding not to dwell on it, you pull your laptop onto your bed and search for a show to watch until you come up with something better to do.

It’s an episode and a half past when the noise returns, a little louder and accompanied by a faint tapping. Hopeful, you pause the episode, expecting for it to disappear with the click of your touchpad. When it doesn’t, you tense and think, calling out your friends’ names and listening to the responding quiet.

You pull at your fingers nervously, debating stilling to will it to go away or going to investigate. Clips from yours and Bucky’s horror movie night the previous day flash in your mind, making you cringe and stay put. Silence falls after a minute, but you remain unsettled, uneasily dragging yourself off your bed, poking your head out from your room to observe the hall up to the living room. “Bucky? Sam?”

No response.

You stare at the door, expecting some tangible inference of yours to appear in the shadowed crooks of the weathered red thing. When it doesn’t, you force yourself to be brave and head down to the living room, wrapping yourself in blankets with your front facing the entrance.

You resume your show but pay only half attention to it, jumping when there’s a loud crash in a scene. Hand to your heart, you pant at the scare, dissolving into a disbelieving laugh.

“I’m an idiot,” you state to no one. “I’m scaring myself.”

You splay yourself on the couch and breathe, rationalizing.

“This is Bucky’s fault,” you say matter-of-factedly. “He’s the one who chose home invasion horror when he was leaving me home alone the night after.”

You stare at your keyboard, rubbing off a smudge on the space key.

“I hate home invasion horror,” you mutter, running a hand down your face.

“This is pathetic,” you lecture. “What am I reduced to?”

Bravely, you stand, taking your computer with you to the kitchen.

You’re gathering a ridiculous amount of oily cookie cutters in your oven-warmed apartment when you hear it again, louder and more startling than the previous times. You flinch, a multitude of colorful molds tumbling to the floor in your startlement.

You leave them in exchange for paying attention. Slowly, you slink over to the door, peeking through the peephole to see nothing. Now confused, you pull the door open, greeted with silence and an empty hallway.

You walk away once you shut the door with heavy hesitation, shoving warm cookies into your mouth, unsure.

Trying to be rational, you type out a short text contorting your panic into something a little more playful, your thumb hovering above the send button just as you remember Sam’s warning. Isn’t this what he meant? Silly requests that interrupt Bucky’s good time?

You stop, deleting everything you’d written and flipping your phone screen down on the kitchen island. Everything was fine, you were sure.

It’s juxtaposingly pleasing and frightening to hear it the next time; both disappointing and reassuring that your mind wasn’t making things up. The intervals between the noise get shorter, too, until it’s less than a half hour after the last, and you’re buzzing with paranoia.

You text your scariest friend first, anxiously waiting for Sent to turn Read below your message to Natasha, but it never does.

It takes half an hour and the noise to come back before you give up on her, instead watching Wanda’s three little dots pulse before they settle on an apology because she’s on a date.

Tony and Bruce are out of town for some convention and Thor is on vacation, meaning you’ve officially run out of friends to call for help.

Your fear builds until you can’t help yourself, powered by thorough panic when you click on your first contact number. It’s only a couple tones before Bucky answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so, no big deal, but there’s something scratching at the door and I’m worried for my life.”

“What?”

“This is your fault,” you cry. “It’s the movies, I—”

“It’s probably the neighbor’s kids playing tricks on you. You know they’re assholes.”

“But I’ve gone outside and there’s no one there. There’s no way they can run that fast, right?”

“Maybe?”

“Look, I’m really freaked out,” you admit. “I really don’t want to bother you but Nat isn’t answering and Wanda’s out on a date and it keeps coming back and—”

“Okay, hey,” Bucky’s voice comes through a little clearer, paying more attention. “It’s okay. I’ll come back, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” You feel bad. You feel so bad your skin prickles with regret, suddenly willing to stand out in the hallway and let your monster eat you alive.

“Don’t be.” You can feel the comforting nudge he gives you when he’s reassuring. “I was about to call you anyway, this is as bad as I remembered it being.”

You manage a weak laugh. “Thank you,” you say genuinely.

“Thank me by not asking questions when I somehow get there in three minutes, okay?”

You furrow your brows. “What? How would you—”

“I think that’s a question,” Bucky interrupts.

“You left already,” you conclude. “Why did you leave early?”

“I think it’s unfair you can do that.”

“I think it’s hypocritical of you to say that.” Your near peace dissipates when something scrapes down the length of your door. Uselessly, you duck down behind the kitchen island. “Are you here yet?” It’s more of a beg than anything, a longing for the sound to be his clumsy fingers with a dodging key.

“Elevator. Which means—” His voice fizzles predictably, inspiring a fresh surge of hate for the machine. A few expected seconds tick by, a click cutting them off.

“What—” You tap your phone angrily. “I hate this stupid building—”

The noise returns, sharp and close and angrier than you’d heard it. You’re only slightly comforted by the thought that Bucky should be nearby, mainly in vehement disagreement with your fate. You curl your fingers around a rolling pin and crawl closer to the door, nails digging into your palms at the close proximity of your aggressor.

The door flies open and you jump up in tandem. “Don’t! My best friend is really big and he’ll beat you up!”

Bucky stands in the doorway, blue eyes rounded, palms up and open.

You pant together for a moment, before your limbs relax in relief, rolling pin tumbling to the ground as you fall into his chest. “Oh my god.”

Automatic, his hands steady around your waist. He says your name in question, pulling you closer anyway.

“What was that?”

“I thought—I thought it was the thing.”

“The thing?”

“I don’t know what it is Bucky, that’s why I called you,” you snap, digging your nose deeper into his neck.

“I didn’t see anything outside,” he offers.

You deflate at his saccharinity. “I’m sorry. That was mean. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, smoothing his palm over your back. It’s a comforting weight, his lovely tolerance of you endearing, although he’d frown at your choice of words. You pull away but stay at his side, laying your head on his shoulder. Your phone rings and you make no move to answer it. He looks at you questioningly.

“I left voicemails in case I died,” you explain, watching Clint’s contact picture flicker. “It might’ve been an exaggeration but look how late they’re calling. What if it were a dire situation? How useless would they be?” You fist your hand in his jacket. “I’m glad I have you.”

“You didn’t leave me a voicemail,” Bucky complains. “You never called in the first place. Whaf if you had died? What about me?”

“I called you.”

“To come here. No goodbye message.”

“It wasn’t a goodbye so much as fear-spurred insurance—”

“Well, how come I didn’t get one?”

“For one, you answered the phone. For two, I knew I’d be fine if you said you’d come. And for three, I knew you’d come if I asked.”

Bucky quiets. “I would.”

“You did,” you agree. 

Something shifts. Subtle and sweet, his heat on your skin isn’t all that casual anymore. He notices, too, shifting lightly on his feet, the weight of his fingers on your waist definitely heavier.

“So,” he starts. “I’m really big, huh?”

[aprilsarchives]

Tumblr exposing my fanfic history 😳

I love creating these videos. Can't wait to post my next one! Watch me read and react to fanfiction on my Youtube Channel - https://youtube.com/@aprilsarchives_?si=8CbTj5vdcZ9A6f7M

[zander-idgaf]

Bucky, where is my pencil?

Genre: crack, fluff

Summary: Bucky wanted to get your attention so he took your 'magic pencil' and now you are regretting the decision of giving him what wants. But in the end you get revenge.

If you want to be tagged just comment.

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You had left your Ipad and stylus on your desk in your room to go to the bathroom. As you do your business there is quite shuffling in your bedroom. So quite that you figured it was you imagining things.

You come out of the bathroom to see that your Ipad was turned off. You thought it just went o sleep. But when you push the on button it stayed dark. Now this made you uneasy, so you start looking for your stylus. It was gone.

Bucky pov

He sat in his closet clutching the weird pen thing that you draw on the tablet to his chest. He knew how much you loved to draw on your free time, but the both of you haven't send time with each other in awhile. He missed his friend and if he had to steal your beloved art wand...... He would.

He heard you stomp in the curse only to whip around and leave. He peeked into the hallway to see if he was clear. He sprinted for the training rooms.

Loki's pov

The browned haired man streaked by with a stick in his hand. He looked scared enough that Loki got up from the kitchen table and looked down the hall. When he turned around the soldier was gone down the hall.

Yn pov:

The damn moron didn't realize your 'wand' didn't work unless it was synced to a device. You watch him try to write on the white board in the training room. He didn't realize you were behind him. He grunts and scowls at the tool.

"She has the tech like Tony." He pauses and then looks at the white board. "He grabs a marker and starts writing.

Play pool with me!

He puts the marker up and turns to see you. "You could have asked."

"I have for the past week!"

"Well, you should really speak up when you do."

The man knew when he asked any of the Avengers to hang out with him, he gets shy and starts to mumble.

Side note:

Did he wake up with out his arm? Maybe. Did u hide it. No one knows. Let's just say he didn't sleep for two days looking for it.

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If you want to be tagged for the next fic I do comment. Same goes for requests. Also very sorry this is so short I did this while at work on break.

[uponasoapboxb]

i love looking through my ao3 bookmarks and seeing the timeline of all the characters that i’ve read fanfictions about. it’s like playing the “just how Unwell was i during this part of my life?” game

anyway: currently in my tasm! peter parker phase

[iwasmadetobeasoldier]

Somewhere in Stark Tower...

Sandy: * leans against Sam and Bucky's door, holding up an empty bag of doritos* "Seriously, guys?? You ate them all??"

Sam and Bucky: *pointing at each other* "HE DID IT"

Sandy: *unimpressed* "I didn't ask who did it, lads. What part about the bright red note that says 'Sandy's-DO NOT EAT'???"

Sam: Do you have proof? *smirking *

Sandy: "....If you two werent so cute, I'd punch you both right in the jaw."

Bucky: *smirking* "Sure, you would."

Sandy: "Don't tempt me, Bucko. I know Uncle Thor didn't do it, he's the one who showed it to me."

Sam: "THOR, YOU TRAITOR!"

Bucky: "Can we go smack him?"* to Sandy*

Sandy: "Guys, no.*laughing*"

@realcaptainfalcon

@buckybarnesoffical